#if there's a post or something of mine you care about for whatever reason

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 20)

Hello lovelies, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! It's been a while, and for that, I'm sorry. I've been (and still am) going through a bit of a depressive episode. November's typically a tough month for me for a couple of reasons, but it hit harder than usual this year. Still, I wanted to come back and bring you another installment of Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics, just in case anyone needs a little Sterek to get them by like I have.

Side note: I'm actually thinking of doing a some, like, "feature" posts where I rec a single fic at a time, regardless of whether or not I've already rec'd it through this series, and actually explain what I like about the fics. Give a little endorsement, if you will. As much as I love all of the fics I have recommended throughout this series, I definitely have some go-to staple fics that I re-read with far more frequency than others. I can think of at least 3 off of the top of my head right this second...

Idk. Would any of you be interested in that? I might do it no matter what, just to have something to engage my brain a bit, but I have also been nearly catatonic with brain fog and just a general exhaustion of life, so. We'll see.

Okay, enough of my yappin'!

As ever and always, thank you all so much for all of the love and support you've shown this series. It genuinely warms my heart when I get a notification for this series, and I appreciate you all so much. I hope you've all found some new favorites and/or got to dig back into an old favorite or two along the way. There won't be too many more parts, but I'm going to try to stretch this bitch out to 25 parts because it's a tasty number to my brain.

I hope you're all having a good day, if not a great one! Smoochies and squeezies, lovelies!

List and links to previous parts below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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The Horror of Our Love by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 1/1 | 4,941)

"I'm not wearing a muzzle," Derek snaps.

"Look, if you wear this then we're golden! There's no way you can bite through this, Deaton said so."

"Oh well, if Deaton says," Derek says snidely. It's a silly argument. Sure, Deaton is shady and enjoys bending the truth on occasion, but unless it's a complex assassination plan he wouldn't lie about this. Something that Stiles knows that Derek is aware of.

"There's really no reason for him to lie," Stiles points out. "What's your real problem with it?"

"It's demeaning," Derek says through gritted teeth.

"What? No! Lots of werewolves have to wear one of these," Stiles says, waving the muzzle around. The leather and clasps jingle.

Derek sneers at him. "Wolves who can't control themselves."

"Pot and kettle, buddy. Wait, wait," Stiles says hurriedly when Derek turns to leave, "let's just... let's try it, okay? Come on, have I steered us wrong before?"

-

In which Derek can't control himself while having sex with Stiles and needs to be muzzled.

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Burial Rituals by aurevell (G | 1/1 | 4,989)

The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”

Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.

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Devoured by Hedwig221b (E | 1/1 | 5,298)

Breathless, Stiles shifted his gaze up and went red from the knowing smirk on the deific face. The man’s red eyes sparkled in the moonlight, glowing like two fires on the tips of the candles. One of his thick eyebrows was lifted in amusement.

He was the most beautiful being Stiles had ever seen. As was probably expected, considering he was the god of sexual desire.

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Satisfaction Brought It Back by Snare (E | 1/1 | 7,223)

Derek doesn't know how nobody else seems to notice the large, ever-present bulge in Stiles' jeans. He can't help but be curious about it, he just - he just wants.

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Lay Me Out by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 2/2 | 8,967)

"This is weird," Stiles tells him. His hands are still on Derek's chest. "Is this weird? Are you even sentient enough to think things are weird?"

Derek's tail wags back and forth, brushing against his calves and stirring up the fallen leaves. And the licking? It doesn't stop. Derek keeps at it, licking Stiles' cheeks, his forehead, that sensitive spot behind his ears. Stiles tries to twist away, much braver now that he hasn't been mauled, but there's no escape.

"Okay," Stiles croaks out. He pushes at Derek's shoulders, his chest. "Let me up, big guy, come on."

When Derek doesn't move, Stiles arches up, trying to wriggle free, but then he feels something wet and sticky against his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. He cranes his neck down and sees Derek's dick. It's distinctly non-human; red, with a tapered tip. Clear fluid drips from it.

"Oh holy god," he says, horrified and fascinated. "Is that - oh fuck."

-

In which Derek has sex with Stiles while in the Alpha form

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to be with those I like by sheafrotherdon (E | 1/1 | 9,323)

It's Deaton who tells Derek that Stiles is back in town, a broken marriage behind him, his daughter in tow.

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How We Got Here by Areiton (E | 1/1 | 9,718)

Maybe if you fight the creatures of the night together like they did, if you bury enough friends and strangers and enemies, you don’t lose touch.

He thinks that’s why he and Derek are friends--because Derek understands his nightmares, understands the nights when he can’t talk, and the nights he can’t stand the dark.

OR: Against all odds and expectations, Stiles and Derek have become respectable adults ( WHY?) and friends.

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Lunches, Knitting and Definitely Not Dating by attackofthezee (noxlunate), noxlunate (T | 1/1 | 10,107)

“So, I uh, managed to get myself pregnant.”

“You what?!”

“Got myself pregnant. Y’know, up the duff, knocked up, a bun in the oven, in a family way, eating for two, with child. I could go on Dad, really, stop me before I exhaust the list of pregnancy euphemisms. There’s still caught an 18 year STD, my eggo is preggo, building a person-“

“Stiles.”

“Hosting a parasite, harboring a fugitive-“

(Just a weird mpreg fic with Derek and Stiles totally kinda dating without realizing it, and Stiles figuring out this whole having a baby thing.)

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(they say) this should feel something like fire by dallisons (E | 1/1 | 11,163)

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

"Turn it off." The pack looked up, stunned into silence by the first words they'd heard from him in weeks.

Stiles stood, trembling - his knees weak. He tried to run and collapsed, his bad leg failing him once again. Derek caught him. "Turn it off," he said, his voice unmistakably a growl.

The water continued leaking from the loose faucet, and all Stiles heard was Erica's blood against the concrete. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of by Lissadiane (NR | 1/1 | 14,953)

It's a cold, snowy night and Stiles is halfway through his shift at the campus coffee shop when a tall, dark and handsome stranger walks in, one who seems unaware that he's being haunted by a wolf.

In which Stiles Stilinski sees the ghosts of animals with unfinished business, and Derek Hale is unaware that his dearly departed sister left a few things unfinished.

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Untouchable by Hedwig221b (E | 1/1 | 17,128)

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts.

See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding.

And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

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Camaro '68 by ZainClaw (E | 1/1 | 17,707)

Derek huffs, arching one eyebrow. "I'm not a fugitive." "You look like a fugitive," Stiles insists, practically beaming. "Maybe you should start wearing cardigans."

In which Stiles is a hitchhiker and Derek a runaway whose paths cross at a gas station in the California desert.

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Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit (T | 1/1 | 18,010)

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

--

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

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Do You Wanna Date My Avatar? by Renmackree (T | 9/9 | 18,399)

Scott frowned, grabbing the game case and reading it out loud.

“Become the Hero you've always wanted to be. Battle monsters, witches, dragons, and all the mythical beasts of the World of Fantasy. Play as a Human, Elf, Dwarf and other special races included in the basic game. Stiles this so stupid. Who the hell would want to play as a Werewolf?” Scott threw the game back on the bed and leaned back in the chair.

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We Only Get Better by Ninna_7 (T | 8/8 | 22,741)

Stiles doesn't call him these days. Not since he left Beacon Hills that last time. Not since Stiles left the FBI internship programme in favour of studying Forensic Psychology at NYU. Stiles has texted him a few times in the past, but he never called. Not anymore. Back then, however, whenever Derek received a call from Stiles or called Stiles in return, it was purely for survival's sake. So Derek doesn't know what to expect from this call. If he's being honest, he's scared of it.

x

Or: It's been years since Stiles and Derek last spoke, but a phone call from the human reconnects them. They have the chemistry, the history and the shared trauma. With time and each other, maybe they can have more.

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part-time soulmate, full-time problem by Renmackree (E | 1/1 | 27,111)

Stiles had seen it all in his five years of supernatural shenanigans, but never in his life would he have guessed returning to Derek's old stomping grounds in New York, especially under the guise of Derek's magical Mate.

It was going to be an exciting summer.

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The Light in the Woods series by DiscontentedWinter (5 works | G-M | 36,507)

1. The Lights in the Woods (T | 8/8 | 12,293) To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles. 2. The Gift of the Trees (T | 1/1 | 4,780) Stiles is everything that Derek ever wanted... almost. 3. Moonflower (G | 1/1 | 3,331) Stiles and Derek's son finds his magic. 4. The Path of the Wolf (G | 1/1 | 5,206) Faolán has to find his own path. 5. The Heart of the Wolf (M | 4/4 | 10,897) Etienne Argent is rescued by a strange young man in the woods.

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In Any Version of Reality by alisvolatpropiis (E | 7/7 | 39,853)

Standing next to not-Derek – whoa, holding not-Derek’s hand? – is someone who looks remarkably like Stiles. Is Stiles, a slightly-altered replica, just like this guy both is and isn't Derek.

It’s not like looking into a mirror – one, because looking into a mirror actually makes some kind of sense, and two, because not-Stiles looks older too, mid twenties maybe. And the tips of his short, spiky hair are dark purple, and he’s got a lip ring and he’s shirtless and covered in tattoos and what the holy hell?

“Time travel?" He's sufficiently freaked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears his dad laughing.

“Not exactly,” not-Derek says, and shit, even his voice sounds exactly the same, disconcertingly gentle. He gestures behind him, and Stiles looks over his shoulder, where behind him, scattered across the porch and in the front yard, are more…Dereks and more Stileses.

Fourteen total, including the two at the door, he notes distantly, eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out of his head from bulging so hard.

Seven other Dereks. Seven other Stileses.

Seven Derek and Stiles pairs.

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The Moon Gave Me Permission by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 9/9 | 57,572)

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.”

This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real.

The Hale Family Fire and the suicide of Katherine Argent.

Stiles knows this case inside and out. He’s racked up thousands of karma points on reddit for his thoughtful analysis, his pictures of the crime scene, and of his reporting of local gossip. Beacon Hills is a small town, small enough that Stiles is the only one on the Unresolved Mysteries subreddit to have actually seen the burnt out shell in person.

He’ll tell anyone who listens what he finds fascinating about the case. Absolutely no shame. He’s read all of the articles, he’s pestered his father’s deputies for more information, and he’s read every cold case compilation book that so much as mentions it.

No one knows this case like Stiles does.

-

In which Derek Hale is a man with a dark past, and Stiles is completely obsessed with him.

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The Soul Knows What the Heart Wants by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (M | 9/9 | 163,779)

“Holy—shit,” Stiles breathed, Bacon stopping in what he was doing, still staring at him intently, as if begging him to understand, for someone to finally understand. Stiles felt like he’d been electrocuted and he leapt out of his chair, kneeling in front of Bacon and grabbing at his furry face. “Holy shit! Oh my God, are you—wait, holy—you’re not fucking with me, right?!”

Bacon let out two quick barks, which Stiles chose to interpret as ‘no.’

“Oh my God, are you a real person in there?!” Stiles shouted in the wolf’s face, staring him right in the eye. He was still holding the wolf’s head with both hands, but Bacon dipped his muzzle in confirmation and Stiles officially lost his mind.

“Oh my God!” he shouted again, releasing Bacon to clutch at his own hair. “Oh my God! Dude, for real?! You’re—holy shit! Holy shit!” He didn’t know how to react to this news. He had no fucking idea how to react. This was a person?! But how?! How was this a person?! People didn’t just turn into wolves!

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[dragonboyteeth]

I know I've mentioned this before, and it's not like this website is immediately going away or anything, but if there was another place I could go I would have gone already. Nothing fills the same niche for me. I've got other places, I have have them linked in my pinned (edit: forgot I changed my pinned, so they're not even there anymore umu), but I don't really use them and definitely not in the same way I use Tumblr. Only other thing I use as much is Discord, and that serves a completely different purpose for me, ever since I joined Discord I've used it in tandem with Tumblr, two parts to an irreplaceable whole.

I'm not panicking, just... Things really aren't gonna turn around, are they? It's just a matter of time. I'm losing a platform that has been integral to my life.

I hope you all have fun on Instagram, I guess.

[capetowncapers]

Nurse on the phone at my gyn office, not letting me get a word in to explain why I would like to discuss my upcoming Pap smear with my practitioner first: well a Pap smear doesn’t hurt, you know, you might have some cramping but only for a second.

Me, willing myself not to cry frustrated tears bc at this rate I’m gunning to hold the office record for having a panic attack during not one but two Pap smears: ….. well I had one a few years ago that did hurt because I was so tense, so I ask because I’ve been having issues with those muscles still tensing.

Nurse, seemingly unconcerned with this new information: you can take some Motrin an hour before your appointment, did you have any other questions :)

[nedsseveredhead]

Funniest vague ive seen about me so far is the person who was mad I as a jew wasnt mad about the same performative bs they, goyim, were but since im jewish they cant make a callout post about me and theyre absolutely seething that i have a semi popular text post around rn

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

[notherpuppet]

Do you think there's a right and/or wrong way to handle QPR? I know it's a tricky relationship, but it feels like most/some people kind of just slap the label onto a ship while depicting the ship as just romantic/having no difference with a romantic relationship. (this is why I was a little surprised when you said you do radioapple qpr when it reads a lot more like normal romance). Not meant as an attack or anything on anyone, just genuinely curious more than anything. Again, tricky relationship

So Imma put this link to info at the top of this post: https://taaap.org/2022/07/16/qprs-part-one/

Alright, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, because that's exactly what it is. One small bit of perspective in a mass of many people who experience QPRs in their life and/or are on an aro/ace spectrum. I also have NO QUALIFICATIONS on gender/sexuality theory, so my opinions are shaped by what I've learned and experienced personally. While people may identify with the same term, we are all still individuals with our own experiences. Words can help describe a phenomenon, but it doesn't make everyone who identifies with the word into a monolith.

So I've stated a few times that I navigate shipping Alastor similar to my own experiences as an aroace person. (I guess I'm sharing about myself with this post, but I think that can be helpful to just spreading awareness of an "alternative lifestyle"). So I'm romance-repulsed and sex-repulsed LOL but I'm also "positive" about those things. Like I view romance and sex as lovely, fun experiences people can have, but I've never been into it personally. It's fun for me to consume media about romance/sex, but yknow, it's also fun for me to consume media about violence or isolation. Doesn't mean I want to experience or engage in any of those things lol.

Anyway, I'm a huge people person and I love to party and yknow it seems most people are really wanting to fall in love or fuck or whatever pretty much all the time, but especially at parties hahaha. Normally, I'm pretty touch-averse, but I love dancing so much and it's a blast to dance with a partner (salsa especially!! i don't care for grinding for probably obvious reasons). And to connect the two previous sentences, people (whatever gender they are) would be very kissy-touchy on the dancefloor. Which i honestly dont really give a fuck about hahaha. I don't really get anything out of kissing but I also don't mind it. I just like to dance. It's all a pretty superficial--but still genuinely fun--experience for me.

When it comes to my deeper or more intimate connections, I have had friendships that have felt SO on the line of what was viewed as a romantic relationship. They were exceptional friends and we connected on a level that was deep and true, but it wasn't romantic. Sometimes we'd slow dance, sometimes we kissed, and it rocked. But it wasn't more than that, it was all that it needed to be. I didn't want more and neither did they (except one situation and so we had to stop being friends lol whoops). From the outside, people would even refer to us as partners in a half joking way, but we really were just friends. And I love those friends!! And a huge part of what made those relationships (which at the time were described as 'situationships' because we didn't know any of these terms haha) was their convenience. We either lived in the same building, worked together, or were neighbors LOL. I'm still friends with those absolutely lovely folks, but we don't live around each other, so our QPR just appears a lot more like any ole regular friendship. But it's not like there was a feeling that we transitioned into something different than before. It twas what it twas! (Had to take a pause while I was typing to reminisce fondly for a second, okay back to hazbin hahaha)

SO, whenever someone asks or it comes up, MOST OF THE TIME I do ship alastor through an aroace lens and experience with QPRs (specifically, MINEE because they were fun and I've never felt like doing this before I met a character like Al). And my XP is: "this isn't gonna be a partnership and we ain't fucking" LMFAO. so yeah!

When it comes to using a queer term like QPR, I just hope folks are considerate in their writing, but I also am inclined to just believe them if they say that's their intention because QPRs can look very different. Again, aroace and ace folks are not a monolith. The terms help to describe a human's experience. I'm inclined to think people are writing in good faith.

And all this being said, I want to just emphasize that I really don't think it's necessary to consider any of this shit if you want to ship a fictional character. I understand wanting to be protective of a character who shares an identifier with you (I personally don't wanna see romance/sex with Al in canon). But shipping is a fun thing a fandom does that often does ignore canon. Tale as old as time. I don't think anyone needs to be beholden to canon when they're writing fanfiction or having fun. If we did, I would have like--5 artworks on this blog hahaha. These characters are like dollies, do whatever you want. It's cool if people don't like it and I think it's cool if people do. It's just not that serious. There are ships I'm not particularly into or dynamics that I am not enchanted by, but whatever. I can just scroll or close my eyes.

TLDR; shipping in fandom doesn't need to be taken seriously at ALL. It can just be fun way for someone to play with fictional characters they like. That being said, I think it's good practice to use queer terms thoughtfully.

[insert-name-heres-things]

Happy Disability Pride Month!!!

Remember Folks:

- SELF CARE IS NUMBER ONE

- Use your spoons sparingly! Here’s some spoons to go: 🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄

- Clean your mobility aids! (Seriously dude when was the last time you wiped that shit down with an antibacterial?)

- Accommodate yourself, as others will follow.

- Make goals within your reach and abilities

- DO YOUR COPINGS SKILLS

- Remember to stay hydrated and take your meds!

- For my fellow heat sensitive homies, stay cool this summer! A cold rag draped behind your neck, airy clothing, a small portable hand fan, keeping ice packs ready, cold water and expecially cold electrolyte drinks, all do wonders!

- For my fellow autistic folks, don’t be afraid wear earmuffs, stim, use chew charms, whatever it is that helps you regulate. You don’t have to mask if it’s something that isn’t benefitting to your life.

- POTS havin mofos like me, salt the ever loving fuck out of your food. Try different foods with salt, such as fruits and vegetables! I’m currently eating a salty tomato. Drink lots of water, I’ve been aiding gateraid packets to my water and it’s made a HUGE difference, especially as someone who hates drinking water.

- Those with PTSD for whatever reason, I wish you safety and support as you learn to cope and hopefully heal.

- I don’t know exactly what to say to others with H-EDS, as I’m still understanding this disorder other then BE CAREFUL WITH YOURSELF THIS PRIDE MONTH. I swear to god we are the most accident prone mother fuckers lmfao-

- If your immune system is all fucky like mine, keep clean and be sanitary, communicate with others that if they’re sick you can’t be around them, and wear a mask if you feel like that’s the right option for you. In my hometown I’ve gotten yelled at more than once for wearing a mask post-covid, however you can’t let someone else’s ignorance result in your own suffering.

- Don’t forget to move around and stretch! A little movement can do a lot for your body.

- Check in with your disabled friends! Try and see if there’s any way you can help one another, see where both of your strengths and weaknesses lie, and swap some spoons!!

- Be aware of what triggers your disorders. Whether if it’s caffeine triggering bipolar episodes, the weather causing fibro flares, big changes causing meltdowns, overexerting your hypermobility, whatever it is, it matters. Listen to your body and mind.

- Don’t be afraid to call out that doctor who isn’t listening, dismissing your symptoms and medically gaslighting you.

- While it may not seem like a big difference for some, trust me when I say your appetite is so important! Remember if it comes down to it, that it’s better to eat something, ANYTHING, than nothing at all. 

- To that person who might be hesitant, ashamed or might be questioning wether or not they should use a mobility aid, if it’s the difference between you being stuck at home vs going out and living some life… USE THAT MOBILITY AID!!! Same goes for braces and any other tool that may help you live a better quality of life.

- Be accepting towards those with disabilities different then your own- remember this month isn’t a competition about who’s struggling the most, rather to understand that people of physical, psychological, sensory, neurodivergence, and even undiagnosed disabilities all share one thing in common.. WHICH IS BEING DISABLED!

- Doesn’t matter who you are, how young or old, black or white, thick or thin - the disabled minority is one you can end up becoming a part of at any time, and likely will if you live long enough. Disability doesn’t discriminate, so EVERYONE should be advocating for disabled people’s rights.

- And of course, have pride in being disabled. This shit is fucking hard, but if you’re reading this, you’re doing it. Just being here today and doing what you can handle or manage, is doing your best, and that’s enough. You don’t have to push yourselves to impossible lengths to be proud of yourself.

Here, have the disability pride flag:

[nothorses]

hi sorry to bother u about this, i searched around transmasc subreddits for an answer to this and while i saw a few people joking about getting dry cramps, nobody seems to know what this is. and i vaguely remember seeing a post by you mentioning "mystery cramps" in a post also about vaginal atrophy, but I didnt pay attention to the post much at the time bc at that point i wasnt experiencing atrophy or mystery cramps.

but now I'm a bit over a year on T, (my periods stopped only about 4 months ago though, because i was on a much lower dose than most for a lot longer time than most. that ~4 months ago time frame lines up with upping my dose from 0.2 to 0.3ml. i'm on 0.4ml tho now as of about 3 weeks ago) and suddenly i'm getting "mystery cramps" sometimes, it seems to happen especially the night before my T-shot day, (but i cant say that with certainty—i know i'm having them right now and my shot day is tomorrow morning, and i think thats been the case, but i dont know for sure) and they feel exactly like period cramps. to the point where i feel super paranoid that maybe i've been injecting improperly and the testosterone isnt absorbing right and my period is actually coming back. (something i often have nightmares about)

i searched your blog again for that post and did find it, (the one about estradiol cream treating it) but the wording of it is a little unclear and i wanted to just clarify that this is the same thing youre talking about? or if what im experiencing is different than the "mystery cramps" you meant and i should see a doctor

I am for sure not a doctor, and I think you should see one either way!

My personal understanding of the "mystery cramps" is that it's a part of "vaginal atrophy" that some, but not all trans folks who go on T experience, and it usually doesn't start until a couple of years on T ( which is also, to my knowledge, based on more standard doses as opposed to "low-dose" T).

Mine started about two years in, and was happening occasionally at first- always at night, and often the day before my T shot- then progressed to several nights a week over time. Nowadays I tend to experience cramping almost every time I so much as miss one dose of estradiol. Ibuprofen and Midol are the only OTC pain relievers that seem to do the trick, and the cramping will keep me up through the entire night untreated. It also tends to come in fairly predictable waves (spaced maybe 15-30 minutes apart) and right before I started estradiol, I remember getting some light spotting as well.

iirc, I talked to my PCP when it was just starting up, and their response was along the lines of "that's weird, let's keep an eye on it". I moved and didn't have a PCP for a while, so when the spotting started, I went to a walk-in urgent care clinic and talked to them. They gave me a referral for an ultrasound, and encouraged me to go to a "women's health" clinic that had long history of specializing in trans care as well. When I talked to the folks at that clinic, they encouraged me to go through with the ultrasound (I didn't), and prescribed estradiol cream because I asked them to and they didn't see a reason not to try it.

If you think it's possible this is what's going on with you, I would really encourage you to talk to a doctor, specifically bring up research around this issue and estradiol cream as a treatment option, and ask them if there's a reason not to try it just to see if it does anything for you. If nothing else, estradiol cream also treats vaginal dryness, tightness, and inflammation (other symptoms of "vaginal atrophy"), so it might be worth a shot for those reasons anyway!

And don't do what I did; if they want you to do an ultrasound or whatever else, go with it, and rule out other possibilities. Listen to medical advice from medical professionals who know your medical history and who you trust are listening to you & know what they're talking about.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Headcanon/Preference # 36

Gifs NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW (some subtle NSFW)

Reading time (roughly) - 4 minutes

• Leon S. Kennedy •

• Leon loves it for so many reasons. Firstly it's because of just how pretty it makes your lips, so kissable and shiny. Secondly he loves it because you love it, plain and simple, he's an amazing boyfriend.

• Leon not only likes seeing what new lip gloss you buy, but he also honestly enjoys going with you to pick out new lip gloss. But he will point out when you've obtained a bit too much lip gloss, and very very subtlety try to coax you into not buying more for a bit, at least until your stockpile has dwindled a bit.

• Leon never knew about plumping lip gloss until after you'd applied it, and kissed him later on. He was so shocked by it, and so confused at first. He grew to love it, but if he's being honest, his favorites are the ones that give your lips a unique tone. Like greys, purples, blues, and oranges.

• Jack Krauser •

• Jack honestly loves it so much it feels very out of character for him. Like he's borderline obsessed with how it looks on you, and even with how it feels when you kiss. So he's always stealing kisses whenever you reapply it.

• He buys you new lip gloss all the damn time. You could have hundreds, and he'd be still buy atleast one more. He especially likes plumping lip gloss, and how it makes your kisses feel electric.

• Jack especially loves how it feels when you kiss his scars while wearing lip gloss. I mean he loves it even without the lip gloss, but with it it's just that much better. Plus it makes it feel like your kisses are lingering on his skin, and he lives for that.

• Albert Wesker •

• Wesker honestly kinda hated it in the beginning of your relationship. He likes how it looks, well he loves it actually. But didn't much care for the feeling of it when you'd kiss.

• Eventually however he grew to appreciate it in a way. It was just another part of you by this point, and if for whatever reason you aren't wearing it when he steals a kiss, he'll just immediately assume something is wrong.

• Sometimes Wesker will forget to wipe off the lip gloss you left behind after a kiss. And when someone makes a stupid comment about it, he might just remark about how he's also got your lip gloss smears on his dick, just to shut them up... Even if it's true.

• Chris Redfield •

• Chris won't lie, he hates it. He likes how it looks on you, and he likes that it makes you happy and all. But Chris simply can't stand the way it feels, to him it just feels oily and gross. You end up getting into the habit of wiping it off his lips for him after every kiss.

• He doesn't mind it in the end, and won't try to convince you to stop wearing it. It's something you like, so he'll tolerate it for you with little complaint. He'll also compliment you whenever he notices you're wearing a new shade.

• Sometimes Chris just likes to take his thumb and run it across your bottom lip. And just watching the lip gloss smear is almost sensual in a way, it definitely feels very intimate that's for sure, but sometimes it almost feels more than just intimate.

• Luis Sera •

• Luis adores it so so much. Your lips are so soft from all the lip gloss use, and now his lips are so much softer from kissing you all the time, and simply never wiping the lip gloss off of his lips. Plus your lip gloss makes your kisses even sweeter.

• Totally keeps an extra tube of lip gloss in his pocket on the off chance you forget yours, or if you happen to loose yours. And yes the one he carries is definitely one of your absolute favorites, and he most likely bought it for you in the first place.

• Luis really enjoys when you pepper his face and neck with kisses, smearing your lip gloss over his warm skin, it feels like a kiss that'll last forever. And he craves more every single time. He's also totally the type to try your lip gloss out for himself, probably with you present even.

• Lucas Baker •

• Similar to Wesker, Lucas hated it from the very beginning... He also likes the way it looks, how shiny and appealing it makes your lips. But he never could stand the feeling of it, even when you'd kiss his cheek.

• Unlike Wesker on the other hand, Lucas still fucking hates it, with a goddamn passion he hates it. And he will literally (and dramatically) wipe his mouth of it after every single kiss, even when he was the one to initiate the kiss in the first place.

• Lucas will 1,000% try to convince you to stop wearing lip gloss. If he can't convince you to stop wearing it all together, he'll at least try to convince you to stop wearing it so much. He will throw a bit of a fit if you won't give it up. He also groans and rolls his eyes whenever you buy new lip gloss of course.

• Billy Coen •

• Billy teases the hell out of you for wearing lip gloss all the time, but don't let him fool ya, he loves it. It makes you look extra cute, especially when you're reapplying it. Plus it feels nice and silky, so it's a win win in his book.

• Despite his teasing, Billy enjoys watching you apply your lip gloss. Sometimes he'll tease you about making a mess, and intentionally smear it real bad. Afterwards stealing a quick kiss of course. And sometimes he'll just randomly get you a new lip gloss and be like it made me think of you. He's so cute it's annoying sometimes.

• Will beg you to keep your lip gloss on when y'all get down an dirty, especially if you're going to give him head. Then he'll tease you for leaving lip gloss smears on him, and then get salty if you try wiping it away.

This ones been sitting in my drafts since last year! Totally forgot about it, and I hadn't finished it, until like 10 minutes ago. ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌ Anyways I hope you enjoyed. I originally wanted it to be longer, but I'm content with it the way it is.

[delugguk]

Only Mine, Nobody Else's.

pair: jungkook x reader.

genre: stablished relationship, smut, fluff.

word count: 5.4K

warnings: unprotected sex.

summary: there's you, who finds little things like eating perilla leafs as normal. then there's him,who finds such topics as horrendous. for him, this type of convos shouldn't even exist. so who'll win this battle? it's better to find out, now.

a/n: hellooooo here's the alternative version of THIS. finally!! I wrote this the same day I published the first drabble but never got to finish it until now, so I hope you enjoy this hehe. I really love them ㅠㅠ but I'll shut up now and enjoy their cute dynamics 😩 I'm sorry I took toooooo long to post but my irl schedule is kinda ass :( LET ME KNOW YALL REACTIONS!! I do appreciate it 👉🏼👈🏼🥺

everything can happen during dinner but.. let me explain, okay?

when you start a topic.. normally, your smart and super interesting boyfriend rambles around until he can't stop his pretty mouth from moving - not that you complained though, you adore listening to him.

but as interesting as it could be, there was some nights were each topic jumped from fun conversations to.. sudden serious ones.

like tonight.

A new trend has seemed to flow around socials making everyone have these interesting conversations that.. you're not really sure if you vibe with them to be honest - but it is what it is as soon as seho, jungkook's best friend, brings this topic to the table.

and yep, you wanted to chop his balls right in that moment.

you could swear you were having a good time until that moment came. you and jungkook were oblivious to the matter for some reason so when you're having dinner with your friends, this sudden theme really got you out off guard because you just knew how jungkook was gonna get.

"so what is it about?" jungkook asked and now that you think about it, you wished he could just.. not pay attention but.. oh well.

"well, it's basically a question about.. you letting somebody else help your girlfriend separate her perilla leaf-"

"hell nah." jungkook cuts him out of his sentence.

damn.

"wait.." seho's chuckles, "you didn't even let me finish and you're already prohibiting that from happening." finding the situation funny.

you only ironically rolled your eyes with an ironic smile too.

"you make questions knowing well the way he is.." you say but it wasn't annoying.

"what's love if there's not a little spice to it?" he laughs. oh you hated him.

not really. but you know what I mean.

jungkook's just listening until he began to speak with a cocky grin. "do you really think I'll let y/n get feed by another man?" a small scoff of a laugh leaving his mouth, "yeah sure." as he brushes his hair back with both hands.

just laying back on his sofa, casually looking so fine. but this wasn't the time to think about that.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be a man, you know? It's just any other friend." says yoongi.

"whatever, I don't care. I wont allow it."

you chuckle. "mm.. why not?" sounding more curious, but you really wanted to know why he is so against it. "I don't see nothing wrong about sharing food?"

"not this way??"

"exactly?" seho's following just after jungkook.

"you, shut up." you point at seho. - now looking back at jungkook, "what do you mean 'this way'?"

"mm.. babe, this isn't just something you can share, you know?"

"but.. why not?"

both him and seho sigh. but just before they could talk, luckily, the theme dies as soon as yoongi successfully changes the topic to some stupid funny video he saw these days.

the fact that seho knows about jungkook's possessive/jealous behaviours makes this worst. they're like best friends, for god's sake.

after that little moment, not even a single wrinkle of happiness painted on your boyfriend's face but a slight eyebrow furrowing instead and it's just that his reaction to the matter was... priceless.

jungkook had so much to say but so little to think.. completely blinded by the thought of someone feeding his girl, this obviously wasn't going to end here.

..and you both knew it.

when you arrive to your apartment, jungkook didn't wasted any time to continue your conversation and it's just that.. he was so predictable sometimes, or maybe you knew him too well.

"what did you meant about that?" his voice sounds genuinely curious when he closes the door behind you.

"about.. what?" taking off your jacket as you respond, he smacks his lips in annoyance.

"you know what I'm talking aboutㅡ bam, hi" voice suddenly changing into a whisper-y cute tone when he kneels down to kiss his son.

"..hm?" and as he gets up, he takes your hand leading into the living room.

he seats first. tattooed hand giving little soft but strong palms at the other side of the sofa when he motions you to seat beside him.

when you cross your legs, you give yourself just the perfect enough space between him and you just so you don’t get any other contact with his dangerous body 'cause right now this wasn't your sweet, sweet boyfriend at his best. - not that he’ll do something bad to you, but because you were very weak when it came to having him close..

"are we.. really having this conversation?”

blinking many times as if it wasn't obvious, "uh.. yeah??" he answers.

you sigh. "okay." pausing, "shoot."

"do you really not care?"

"about what? food?"

he glances at you.

you exhale. "It's not that I don't care. It's more of me.. thinking it's not that serious."

his mouth drops into a little gasp. "how isn't it that serious? my friend could easily be feeding you.. you."

"so?"

"so???" he feels so offended. "are you really-"

"no, okay, wait. I do care about that. I dont agree about them feeding me. I don't like that either.. what the hell." you confirm because you realize. "what I'm trying to say is, they won't be feeding me."

"how?"

"because they will just help me separate the leafs, silly. they don't necessarily have to give them in my mouth?"

"but most people do. unconsciously."

"you do?"

"yes. and I think you can tell. I always do it with you."

"but that's because we're dating.."

"it's because I like you. romantically, silly." he flicks your head, making you blink.

"of course, so that makes sense!" you say. "I don't think a random friend will-- wait, friends can also do it if they like you.. as a friend?"

"uh-uh” he nods his head. “that doesn't exist when it comes to this food."

"what's so different about this?"

"you really don't know, huh?"

nodding your head, you shrink your shoulders as you keep silent for a few seconds and he crosses both his arms looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“what?” you playfully exclaimed as you’re also confused but jungkook just pushes his hair back once again, taking a big breather followed with an exhale. “babe," you continue, hands cupping his face. “tell me.” as your face gets closer, eyes trying to read his.

"they could touch your lips with the tip of his fingers." he says. big pupils staring at your lips when he’s soon piercing your gaze.

you do notice. butterflies in your stomach, god.

“no, they won't."

"yes they will and I can't let that happen."

you sigh. "babe, is not that big of a deal. you act as if that will make me fall in love with them.” then you pause to say, "which, it would never happen, by the way."

"but you could."

"no, I won't." you affirm.

"yes? you would." but he keeps being stubborn..

"no? I wouldn't?"

you both pause staring at each other and you roll your eyes.

"I still stand with what I said during dinner though." leaning back on his seat, you’re not longer cupping his face.

"honey, me helping your friend or my friend isn't going to change anything."

"you never know.."

"I think you should stop watching too many dramas. their messing with your little head." you playfully say while softly pulling one of his hair strings.

but he rolls his eyes. "how can you say that?" starting his funny drama. "those things definitely doesn't affect the way I think.." he pauses. "but If that was the case, then they'll be totally right because If it happens in dramas it could happen in real life."

"You're delusional.."

"No I'm not?"

"..and you want me to take you seriously?”

“babe.” jungkook warns, voice sharp.

“okay, okay..” you side smile. “I get it.”

“can you listen to me?”

"always."

"you can't.. you can't still do it for him or anybody that isn't me." he’s serious but his voice is so endearing..

taking a deep breath, you rest one hand against your cheek when you look directly into his eyes. "why though?"

"because I say so."

"mm… that still don’t help."

"yeah, it does."

"you can't just give me that answer as your reason why?"

"just did."

you lightly punch his shoulder. "jungkook!"

he laughs.

“you’re being childish right now.” you fake cry.

"okay, okay.." breathing, he goes back to being serious. "either way you still can't help."

rolling your eyes for the 281 time, you annoyingly respond with, "are you going to keep saying that?" pausing. "like is this about you thinking that's how I'll end up falling in love with somebody else? or… what?”

"mm.. yeah?" he's sarcastic. "Isn't it obvious?"

"how is it obvious?" you frown your eyebrows.

"because he'll give you one perilla leaf and you know how.. when somebody can't separate them, sometimes there's have to be another person to help, right?" he breathes as you nod. "well.. that person is, of course, you!" he argues, "and that could make you end up holding hands with him!”

"I- what?" he's unbelievable.

“as soon as I blink!" he continues - pointing at his eyes. "he has already taking you away from me!"

your reaction is.. well, you don’t even know how to react as he says all of this. only thing that could leave your mouth was, "jungkook.. you can't be serious now.."

"well I am?" he’s all pouty and annoying but you needed to make him understand your point of view and that’s all you think when his hands are lightly hitting his own thighs in frustration.

"well, that's ridiculous." now you’re the one leaning back into your side of the sofa.

"It is not?!"

"It is, and it doesn't even makes sense. I won't hold somebody's hand just because they helped me?" you blink several times as something that’s so obvious.

"but- how can you say that? this does makes sense and it can totally happen!"

then pausing, you decide to tease him instead even though you’re still serious. “are you, perhaps.. talking by experience? ..and that's why you're saying this to me?"

"no!” hands brushing his own face in frustration. "that's not why I'm saying this."

"then why you get so mad about it? It doesn't make sense to me. explain how it works because I do not understand and believe me when I say I'm having a hard time trying to." giving up, you give him a good opportunity to make you understand his point of view in full detail but that’s only if he want it though. you weren’t going to force him to do anything.

he was clear of it.

as soon as you said that, jungkook takes a short time of silence to think. rubbing his chin, rubbing his face.. you can clearly see he's really making up his mind for the way he keeps zooming out into his complex mind.

that could be pretty sometimes.

"let’s say.." he quickly nibbles his lip ring as his dimples slightly pronounce more and that's when you confirm for the second time that he wants to make this right. "..you have a friend, a girl friend.” you nod as he speaks. “and she needs help to separate all of her perilla leafs.."

"Aha.." you slowly nod your head.

"would you like it if I help? It'll take a lot of time.." his eyes feel so heavy looking at yours like he really wants you to say what he think is the right answer..

"..yes?"

but your answer is still very.. unbothered and that makes jungkook open his mouth with both hands on his head in a dramatic manner.

"yes???" he’s back to being exalted. “that’s really your answer?” he chuckles but it’s not even a friendly one. more of a sarcastic one.

“I mean.. what do you want me to say?! I just think it’s normal?”

“n-normal?” and there’s that sarcastic grin all over again. “why.”

"because.. it's just food?"

he covers his face in disbelief. "but I'm the one giving it to them.." he pauses. "Isn't it like if I was deeply caring for them? that's why it's wrong! It can look bad."

"not for me.." you look around.

he sighs for the 10th time smacking his lips as he reveals, "babe, you can't help others with perilla leafs because it'll look like you have second intentions with them."

"who said that?" now you're the one rolling your eyes.

jungkook sighs, rubbing his eyes. "it’s something to flirt about.”

“flirt?”

“yeah." he leans his body a little closer to yours, staring at your eyes almost intensely. you felt tension. not a bad one necessarily.

"have you done that?" genuine question.

"no!" he whines with the same pout on his lips. "why do you keep asking me this?”

“genuinely curious.. and you’re saying a lot of things.” you say.

he rolls his eyes. “I know a lot of people that do it..”

“how?”

"well.." he takes one of your hands to caress it while he speaks, "you know how hard they are to separate, right?"

"yeah..?"

"you normally will have to lean closer to that person in order to do so." he pauses. eyes piercing at yours when his voice goes two tones down. "people like closeness."

you nervously clear your throat. "ah.. yeah," immediately changing the direction this was taking— "so.. imagine we're eating on a cute restaurant-“ you fix your posture and jungkook only grins to himself. he has made you feel nervous.

he liked that.

“…with a friend, it doesn't matter if it's a woman or man” he nods, paying attention to your words. “and I can't help like you said.."

“aha..?”

“if I’m minding my business in that situation but my friend needs help, does that mean you’ll be the one helping them?”

"of course not." tone? annoyed and very serious.

"why not?"

"because I don't care if it's a woman or man, I shouldn't be helping anybody that isn't you. MY girlfriend."

that kinda made your stomach flip, let's not lie here.

"but then who'll help them eat?"

"nobody."

"jungkook!" you call him out.

but all he does is shrink his broad shoulders. “what? It's easy! nobody helps them! don't they have arms of their own?" he annoyingly responds.

"but that's so ass. it's not like you're giving them food directly into their mouth?!"

"..and? I still don't care! If I say you shouldn't then you shouldn't."

you raise your eyebrows. “okay boss?”

jungkook exhales, “I'm not saying that. but.. it’s just what's obvious? I can't help either and we're dating."

"..and you're possesive."

"I'm not possessive.

"yes, you are."

"okay, maybe a little but I'm not most of the time."

and that makes you laugh for sure. “see how you shamelessly lie to yourself, gosh.”

now he’s the one raising his eyebrows. “lie? do you want to know what’s a real lie?” he questions.

“yes.” you sarcastically smile.

“the fact that I don’t want to fuck for your stupid answers and the way that I hate how my solution to this has to be to fuck you silly.” then he whispers to himself, “fuck.” really wanting that to happen.

you were frozen, didn’t expected him to say all that. he’s surely crazy too because why did he had to say it while having that nasty smile on his face? why.

“then why don’t you act on it?” you tease back.

“because that’s a “lie”. he smirks, “told you I’ll say a real lie.”

“I hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” he smiles but then, goes back to the main theme. “listen to me, doing that.. I just think it’s thoughtful. like you’re clearly showing you deeply care for that person, you know?” then he pouts, “from my point of view.. we should be the only ones helping each other.. nobody else.”

you sigh. “okay.. I see what you mean. but I still think it depends on how you perceive it though.”

“fine, now you’re the one who needs to explain.” he said that with a slightly annoyed tone that made you chuckle.

“I think you keep seeing it as something romantic and that’s why you can’t accept it.”

“..and you think it’s not?”

“if I considered that to be romantic you think I’ll be reacting this way?”

“…no..”

“there’s your answer.” you smile.

"just.." he exhales. "take care of me and me only, yeah?" plastering his forehead against yours, his palms holds your cheeks ever so delicately when he says, "I will not feel comfortable if you take care of others in that manner when you have me. specially me. your boyfriend." voice so soft while pointing at himself and god, does he was really cute sometimes. "…would you like it if I took care of your friends?"

and at that question you take your time to think.

"I think it depends on the person too, jungkook.."

"why?" he responds as he is genuily curious.

"because.. Imagine if the friend we’re eating with needs help with their perilla but let’s say I’ve eaten that many times with them and everything was always fine,” jungkook nods his head as he carefully listens. “..so in this case, since they’re my friend I know them the most right?”

"yeah."

“but they’re asking for help, your help, when I know they could handle themselves just right..”

“I see where this is going..” there’s a little building smile on jungkooks lips.

“me seeing them acting dumb just so you could help them— of course that’ll make me definitely jealous.”

"you see?!" he suddenly raises his voice in excitement. "that's what I'm saying!" smiling brightly at you.

"but I'll be more mad because of you not noticing this person second intentions!" you defend yourself. "and because my friend must know I'm obviously dating you!"

"but see? you'll still get jealous, and this just meansㅡperilla leafs could lean into romance! you basically said it yourself! It's a way of flirting.." he says, looking very triumphant.

and at his reaction, you just roll your eyes smiling through it because you can't help it at this point.

"yeah..whatever!" you rapidly correct yourself in which he laughs. "all I'm saying is.. that I could only get jealous in circumstances like these because then I'll know this friend is obviously shamelessly flirting with you."

"but I wouldn't be falling in love with them." he says.

then suddenly, being caught off guard, you blink. “meaning… that you’ll help?”

"nope, I still wouldn't." he warmly says. "since I can't be comfortable with you doing it, I have to keep on my word. I can't do things that I wouldn't like someone do to me." then he adds, "and I would not fall in love with them, because I love you." he finishes saying when he plays with your fingers and his eyes tenderly lingers at yours.

"but.. you never know." voice small, you shyly say.

"no, I'm clear of it." affirming with a confident side smile. "I only have eyes for you, love." he says, gently grabbing one of your hands to leave a lingering kiss on top of it when your eyes can’t stop looking at his sweet actions. you do adored him so much..

"shit, I can't even look at other girls if it isn't you. I love you too damn much." he then chuckles when your laugh merges with his.

lovey dovey eyes staring at his.. “I love you too..”

with a smile on your lips, he mirrors your face too.

that night you both ended up fall sleep hugging each other on his big sofa. you thought you couldn’t get more comfortable than this.

the other night though..

“should I fuck you? nah… I don’t think you deserve it.”

you must’ve seen this coming. eager times always results into this. mostly when a jealous jungkook was very much present. you couldn’t believe how you were so easily lured into his words but the more you get to know and see the new sides of your boyfriend, the more you fell in love and the more you get turned on by him.

you couldn’t resist him in situations like these and it’s just that a jealous jungkook wasn’t just something you got to see everyday. he is normally pretty chill, but whenever he wasn’t.. oh boy.

…you whine with that. "Jungkook.."

"Jungkook, what? now you wanna beg?" a smug grin paints his lips.

you whine as you try to squeeze your legs.

"mm-uh." he opens your legs once again. "don't even dare to take this view away from me."

"but I'm so wet.."

"I know baby. but I can't fuck you if you keep playing around when I'm so serious." he pauses and gives you a hungry daring stare. "dead serious."

"I won't let anyone else fuck me if it isn't you."

"are you sure about that?"

"one hundred percent."

"No lies?"

"No lies."

and he smiles when a finger slides through your clit up and down teasing on it. "torturing you is like torturing me.." he sighs. "fucking wet." licking his lips. "want to eat you again."

"no," you fake cry still feeling his now, moist fingers. "fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

"is that so?"

"eunggg"

“you will have to keep waiting then.” he smirks before going down on you all over again.

"fuck, I love eating your pussy so much. always so wet and greedy for me." his voice’s raspy when he spits on it, just adding more into your dripping pussy. "I love making a mess out of you." he groans.

his tongue rapidly moves up and down as he adds a certain weight on it that makes you want to scream your lungs out. - making out with your clit, one finger slides caressing your folds very teasingly.

"jungkook.." you cry.

"what, baby?" he lowly breathes, eating your cunt still. just this time looking up at you.

when you look down the sight is just so fucking hot. your hands hold onto his hair as he gives you those puppy but very dominant eyes. he loves teasing you like this. he knows how much you love when he treats you like this.

"babe.." your hips thrust into his mouth. as you expose your neck to him.

jungkook leaves a slow kiss into your clit very sensually. "fuck.." he sighs as your arousal mixed with his saliva, dripped down your ass. your pussy pulsating and clenching like crazy. "what do you want?" voice raspy.

"fucking make me cum, babe. please" you whine, trying to touch your clit with your fingers the moment jungkook stopped eating you. - he takes his hands off you.

"not yet baby.. can't let you cum just yet." he sensually and very much needy bites his lower lip. piercing just shining. him very full of desire, just wanted to slide his hard dick along your wet folds. he wanting to feel you coating his length. make a mess out of you, make you beg for him to get fucked - to want him to destroy you. he wanted you to be left thinking about him only, to let you know how you were his and his only even though he was pretty sure he couldn't claim a person, neither you. but he still very much wanted to. he wanted you to scream you were his and his only. he wanted to have you whole. he also wanted to punish you for ever thinking about having help for someone else but him. is not like nobody could help you but why would you ask or need another person's help when he was right there? it made no fucking sense.

he could be seems as calm and collected from outside but his want and need into wanting to ruin you, begging for him until his name could be marked onto your skin were just fucking growing so much. he wished he could just have you like this forever.

"you make me fucking crazy. I shouldn't even be treating you like this. I should let your fucking pussy scream for me. be left untouched until it's begging for me to be touched." he murmurs, palming himself with one hand as his other one rest on your thight and his legs keep yours spread out enough to feel every blow of breeze as he constantly slaps his dick on your clit from time to time and the sticky sounds going in and out of his head made him want to devour you and swallow you whole. he felt feral, his point of possessiveness getting the best of him but fuck, you deserved this. he needed to show you to fucking behave and not say that stupid shit in front of him -or anyone- ever again. It shouldn't even be a topic of conversation at this point. It should be obvious too.

so that's why he's sliding his thick length along your slit and juices, hissing and cursing to himself a lot - closing his eyes every now and then because his desire into fucking your sopping pussy was getting into him.

"I fucking want you all to myselfㅡfuck." he moans. "I can't let nobody else see you like this." he then exhales, tilting his head back while closing his eyes. "only me.. fuck."

"I want to fuck you so bad but you don't deserve it." he tortures himself.

you cry and move your hips along him for more friction and it's so sticky between both your genitals, you feel so horny for him.

"why do you do this to me.." his lidded eyes gazes at you. "..hm?" he slaps one of your thighs. "you want me to fuck you stupid?" he takes both your legs, placing them at the side of his shoulders. "Is that what you want?" he pants, voice heavy and gone while he continues teasing his tip between your folds. "fffuck.. tell me - baby.. do you want me to fuck you so bad?"

"nngn yes.." you cry, feeling very hot and needy for him. your hips keep moving with tip and the feeling was so hot.. you were so wet it was an absolute mess down there. "babyㅡfuck. fuck me please.. fuck me." you beg.

"tell me how bad you want me to." he watches as his dick masturbates along your legs. he starts slow, later on hard when he's already starting moving his dick back and forth, pressing a bit hard on your pussy between your folds. "should I let you have it?" he scoff clicking his lips and a grin playing along. his legs also getting sticky with your arousal. "I don't think so.." he teases.

"baby please.." you arch your back, body distorting, nipples very much erect, your own hand squeezed your boob. shit, you wanted him so fucking bad. "I won'tㅡah. I won't do that again." you look at him with pleading doe eyes.

"do what?" he dares. eyes cloudy as he glances at his tip rubbing against your needy pulsating clitoris.

"ask stupid questions like that ever again." you moan as you try to open your legs but he keeps them close to his neck, adding more pressure to his dick. breathing hard.

"stupid, huh?" he rasps, chuckling a little about it. lidded eyes piercing at you. his tip moving a little more sensual and faster along your clitoris. He gives small slaps to it while he slides his tip.

It feels so good.

"mhmh-" you feel like crying, the pleasure only rising.

his cocky laugh resonating through your whole body.

"wish you’ve said that earlier.." he whispers. "because then I wouldn't be fucking losing my mind right now." pausing. "you're mine okay?" he says while introducing himself into your needy hole.

the moment he introduces himself, you’re squeezing him so hard he can barely fully put his dick in. "fuckㅡbaby, relax." jungkook opens his mouth into a gasp. "do you want me to cum now?" breathing heavier.

“nno.. but you feel so goood.” you swallow your words when you feel the leaks of your pussy. jungkook is the only person that has ever made you feel this horny.

“fuck.. baby.. how am I so lucky?” he said that one last thing more to himself than you.

after not taking it anymore he makes you ride him instead. “jump on me.” and you do. “fuck yeah, nice and hard baby.. so good..” as he holds your waist with his big hands.

eyes looking up and down your body it was as if he was admiring you. the woman he has in front of him. the perfect sculpture ever made, the hottest girl he has ever crossed his heart and eyes into. it was getting a lot so his natural reaction was to delicately examine each part of your body like how his hands fit so perfectly into your waist, they way your vagina swallowed him just right.. how wet you always were for him.. just the fact that you wanted him just as much as he wants you makes him crazy. the way you close your eyes with each jump or bite your lips giving him that pretty nasty look with a side fucked out smile he loves so much.. you were so sensual, he absolutely loved that.

“I love you so much.” he says before leaning your body against his just so he could start fucking you back and that made you scream.

“agh! mmfuck”

he was going sort of fast and deep just how you like it. the way you could feel his breathing against your neck made your nipples get harder but also because of the little rubs in had with his chest. you tried putting your boobs on his face which was a success so jungkook started to lick them or tried to because he was fucking you so fast now it was getting messy.

“I want to cum.” you say as you’re getting close.

“don’t cum like this.” he answers when he’s already flipping you stomach down, ass up. “let me see that pussy swallow my cum.” when he slaps your ass making you arch your back.

“fuck.”

you closed your legs and leaning your chest into the bed. this position making you hold your boyfriends dick a bit tighter.

he exhales with a ‘ho’ sound when he slaps your ass once again. “you just get better, hm baby?”

damn it he sounds so fucked out.

you felt so full you couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m gonna cum!”

“fucking do it, I can’t wait neither.”

as soon as you do he starts fucking you with paused but hard and deep thrusts. your legs were shaking, it’s like he knows exactly how to get you over it. when he cums inside you, the sight of it was what made him more crazy.

“swallowing my cum just right, huh? fuck..” he squishes your ass to the point it leaves a red stain. “how you’re still so deliciously tight….”

and without noticing, you were horny once again..

if you were going to tell everything that happened that night.. you’re sure you wouldn’t handle to finish with just a few paragraphs but you could guarantee that everything that happened was worth enough to let anybody with more than their mouth open..

[steveseddie]

home run

steddie | rating: m | wc: 3,6k | no warnings | tags: post-season 4, love confessions, first kiss, first time, dry humping, coming in pants, car sex, or technically van sex

for week two of @softsteddieseptember “confessing your feelings” and “road trips” and week two of @steddiesmuttyseptember “backseat” and “clothes on”

read on ao3 here

Steve’s fingers tighten around the grab handle as Eddie’s van skids dangerously on the wet road. “I really think we should stop, Eddie,” Steve says, finally voicing the thought he’s been having since they got caught in the rain.

Eddie leans forward on the driver’s seat, struggling to see the road through the sheets of water slashing at the windshield, the wipers failing to keep up. 

At first, Steve thinks he didn’t hear him over the heavy pitter-pattering but then he waves dismissively at him. Steve flinches when he lets go of the wheel and the van swerves.  

“No way, Stevie, if we stop we won’t make it in time for the game!”

“If we don’t stop you’ll drive us off the road,” Steve says in a bitchy tone. “And then we won’t make it to the game either because we’ll be dead.”

Eddie groans, using a rag to wipe the fogged-up windshield. “But-”

“Pull over, Munson.”

With a defeated sigh, Eddie hits the warning lights and stirs the van to the side of the road. “As Your Majesty commands,” he says, matching Steve’s bitchy tone. 

“Hey, don’t get pissy on me,” Steve protests when Eddie kills the engine. “It’s not my fault the sky opened up on us!”

Eddie slumps into the driver’s seat, air puffing out and making his bangs flutter. “No, it’s mine.”

Steve snorts. “What? You suddenly control the weather or something?”

“No, but I made us stop for lunch and waste time and got us trapped in this fucking downpour!” Eddie crosses his arm over his chest, pouting. If Steve didn’t think Eddie would throw him out of the van for it he would lean over and pinch his cheek and call him adorable. 

“We had to stop for gas anyway,” he says instead, shrugging. 

“Yeah, but we could’ve had lunch in the van!” Eddie throws his arms up, almost hitting Steve in the face. “It’s called a road trip for fuck’s sake. And now we won’t make it to the game, so it was all for nothing!”

Not for nothing, Steve thinks. They spent the last couple of hours bickering over who got to pick the music and then singing along horribly to whatever they picked to annoy the other one further, which is one of Steve’s favorite parts about driving around with Eddie. That and watching him while he drives, less worried about being caught staring at him. Not to mention the milkshakes they had at the diner where they stopped for lunch were the best Steve’s ever had. Even if they miss the game, which was the whole reason for this trip, Steve would be okay with it. 

But Eddie sounds genuinely upset about it so Steve turns to face him and puts his hand over his knee. “I bet we can catch the rerun at our hotel in Chicago.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s lame, Steve.” His eyebrows knit into a frown. “You were supposed to be there and watch it live, maybe get hit by a ball or something.”

“Eds, why are you so butthurt over this?” Steve can’t help but ask. Missing a basketball game—even a big one that they drove all the way to Chicago for—shouldn’t be getting under Eddie’s skin like this. “You don’t even care about basketball.”

“No, but you do,” Eddie says with a sigh. “And you- you’re always doing things for the kids and for Buckley and for me so I just wanted to do something for you. Wanted us to do something you want for once. That’s why I got the tickets.” 

It’s Steve’s turn to frown. “Wait, I thought Wayne got the tickets from someone at work.”

Eddie hangs a hand from his neck, watching the rain fall through the window, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Er, no, I asked him to get them for me like a month ago when he drove to Chicago for a job,” he explains shyly. “’Cause, you know, you need a credit card to get them on the phone and well, obviously I don’t have one and neither does Wayne, so-”

“Why?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Because we’re poor?” 

“No, Eds, why- why did you lie about the tickets?” 

“’Cause I knew you’d get all—” he gestures wildly at Steve, “—you about it and offer to pay for them or something and that wasn’t the point. The point was me doing this for you, y’know? Driving four hours just to sit and watch a game that I don’t give a fuck about because you give a fuck about it and I give a fuck about you. Many fucks, in fact.” He lets out a shaky laugh in the middle of his rambling. “Fuck, Steve, I actually love-”

And then Eddie snaps his jaw shut so hard that Steve is surprised he doesn’t bite his tongue off. 

One minute he’s looking at Steve like a startled deer, big cow eyes wide and spooked, and the next he’s flinging the door open and stepping out into the rain before Steve can do anything to stop him 

He blinks at the empty driver’s seat. “What the fuck?” 

He watches through the windshield as Eddie paces anxiously in front of the van, muttering to himself as the rain hammers down on him, soaking his hair and clothes. With a sigh, Steve grabs his jacket from the backseat, zipping it up before following Eddie out of the car.  

“Eddie! What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m drowning myself,” Eddie says, running a frantic hand through his rapidly soaking hair and talking just loud enough for Steve to hear him over the rain. 

“Why?”

Eddie whirls around to face Steve. His bangs stick to his forehead because of the rain and Steve wants to reach over and brush them back. “C’mon, Stevie,” he says, shaking his head. His expression is open, vulnerable, terrified. “You’re smart enough to know that was a love confession. And a shitty one at that.”

Steve blinks, feeling droplets of water fall from his eyelashes. His heart hammers in his chest. “You- you love me?” 

A laugh escapes Eddie’s lips—a mix of amusement and incredulity. “Sweetheart,” he says, his lips curling into a sad smile. “I’m so in love with you that I was down to drive us through a torrential storm to watch dudes throw balls into laundry baskets with you.”

Despite the rain soaking Steve’s clothes by the second, he feels warmth spreading through him at Eddie’s words. “Eddie-”

“I don’t expect anything, Stevie,” Eddie interjects. “You don’t even have to let me down gently or apologize-”

Steve tries again, taking a step forward, but Eddie instinctively takes a step back. “Eddie, I’m not-” 

“I know-”

Steve growls, exasperated. “No, you don’t know,” he snaps when Eddie keeps interrupting him. “God, you’re infuriating sometimes.”

Eddie laughs but it’s a little shaky. “Big word, Stevie. Twenty points for you.”

Steve shakes his head. He closes the distance between them in two long strides, trapping Eddie against the hood of the van. Eddie looks spooked at the proximity so before he can run away Steve cups his cheeks, keeping him in place. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh, Steve?” 

“I need you to shut up, Eddie,” Steve says, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheekbones. His lips part, undoubtedly to make another remark but Steve beats him to it. “‘Cause I’m trying to tell you I’m also in love with you.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut immediately.

“There you go,” Steve says with a chuckle. His stomach flip-flops in anticipation. “Eddie, you know I love basketball-”

The words make Eddie frown. “This isn’t the love confession I imagined-”

“Christ. Shhh!” Steve presses his finger against Eddie’s lips with an amused chuckle. Eddie yelps but otherwise stays quiet. 

“I said I love basketball,” Steve starts again, “but I’m happy to watch it just on TV, y’know? The reason why I agreed to a four-hour drive for a game was you. I wanted to go on a trip with you. We hang out all the time and it’s never enough. I’m fucking- obsessed with you! Christ, I love you!”

His finger leaves Eddie’s lips, telling him it’s okay to talk, but Eddie just blinks at him, and for a moment, all they can hear is the rain falling around them. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do a love confession,” he says in an awed voice.

“Do I get another twenty points?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

Eddie giggles. Steve has to fight the urge to pinch his cheek again. Adorable. “You get all the fucking points, sweetheart, that was romantic as fuck.”

His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheeks, warm and pink despite the cold. “Do you know what’s more romantic than a love confession in the rain?” He asks. Eddie shakes his head, water dripping from his bangs. “A kiss in the rain.”

Eddie’s eyes widening in realization are the last thing Steve sees before he surges forward, all but mashing their lips together. 

There’s barely half a second of Eddie’s frozen shock before there are hands in Steve’s hair and lips moving slowly and tenderly against his own. Steve moves closer, pinning Eddie against the hood of the van, one of his hands leaving Eddie’s face to settle on his waist. He wants to move even closer but the angle is a little uncomfortable, and he can’t lay Eddie down against the hood the way he could do if they’d drove the Beamer. Also, the rain isn’t stopping and Steve is starting to get cold after standing under it for so long.

So he breaks them apart despite wanting to kiss Eddie longer but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “Can we get back in the van now? Before we drown for real or catch pneumonia or something?” 

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eddie says in a deep voice. The way Steve shivers this time has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with how Eddie sounds and what he just called Steve. 

Hooking his fingers through Eddie’s belt loops, Steve drags him towards the passenger’s side, pausing to kiss him every few steps. There, instead of reaching for his door, he reaches for the sliding door handle. 

Eddie frowns. “Wait, I thought-”

“It’s still raining.” Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.” He kisses the other one. “So I thought we could keep this going in the backseat.” He places one final kiss on his lips.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he nods fiercely, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s jacket and pulling him inside. They land on the backseat, Steve on top of Eddie, and while that’s exactly what Steve was after when he led them to the van, he still needs to get the door. Eddie doesn’t seem to care about that—he hooks his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

Steve lets it happen for a moment, already addicted to kissing Eddie but he must put a stop to it when he feels water starting to get into the van. He pushes himself up, his hands on either side of Eddie’s head, and effectively separates their lips. “Gotta get the door, Eds,” Steve says when Eddie whines. 

“Hurry up,” he says impatiently. With a nod, Steve goes about sliding the door closed and then he’s back to hovering over Eddie, leaning down to bring their mouths together again. This time he licks the seam of Eddie’s lips, and when he parts them immediately, Steve slides his tongue inside, licking into Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie makes a small needy noise in the back of his throat and Steve takes it as approval, kissing him harder, letting one hand snake under Eddie’s wet shirt, feeling him up, while he holds himself up with the other one. Eddie’s hands make their way to Steve’s hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands, tugging lightly on them, making Steve momentarily break the kiss so he can let out a moan when the tug goes straight to his dick.

Eddie looks up at him with dark eyes. He gives his hair another tentative tug to see if he can drag that sound from Steve a second time. 

He can. 

“Fuck, Steve,” he whispers like he can’t believe this is happening. “You’re a dream.” 

Steve desperately wants to hear Eddie too, so he starts kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Eddie tips his head back with a heartfelt groan, exposing the column of his throat. Steve takes that as an invitation, sucking at the pale skin until a mark starts to bloom. He bites lightly at the skin and soothes the sting with his tongue, listening to Eddie’s delicious string of gasps and whines.

His legs come up to wrap around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer until Steve is lying on top of Eddie. 

Eddie who is hot and close and already hard against him. 

Steve is hard too, he can feel his dick pushing against his wet jeans. He knows they should probably get out of their wet clothes soon but right now he doesn’t have enough patience to do that. He doesn’t want to waste any time that could be spent kissing Eddie, not until they’re satisfied. If the way Eddie is wrapped around Steve like a needy koala means anything, he doubts Eddie wants that either. 

So instead Steve slowly moves his hips to meet Eddie’s. 

A whimper slips past Eddie’s lips at the friction. “Oh, fuck, Steve,” he pants against Steve’s lips. The way Eddie moans his name goes straight to Steve’s dick, making it twitch as it begs for more friction. He rolls his hips again. “Jesus, fuck- I’m- sweetheart-”

“You okay?” Steve asks when Eddie can’t seem to finish a sentence. When he rolls his hips again, Eddie makes a noise like he’s dying, failing to utter any words. “Want me to stop?”

“No!” Eddie protests, shaking his head, hair wild and fanned out on the seat. “Don’t stop. Just uh- fair warning, I’m about to embarrass myself and come in my pants like- fuck, like this.” 

Steve groans. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah?” 

Nodding enthusiastically, Steve starts rolling his hips at a steady pace. “Yeah, I want it. Wanna make you come, Eddie. Wanna see you.” 

“Holy shit, Steve,” Eddie swears. On the next thrust, he pushes his hips up just as Steve grinds down and they both moan loudly.

They fall into a rhythm after that, approaching the edge quickly. Hoping to make Eddie come first, Steve wedges his hand between them, cupping Eddie’s hard dick with his palm. It feels big and Steve’s brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears when he so much as thinks about touching Eddie without his jeans and his underwear in the way, about blowing him, about Eddie fucking him. His own body jerks almost involuntarily against Eddie’s thigh. 

He does his best to rub the length of Eddie’s dick as best as he can through his clothes, pressed so close together. Eddie lets out a string of moans and whines that shoot sparks of pleasure down Steve’s spine.

“God, Eddie, you’re so- you sound so good. So fucking hot.”

Eddie shudders against him, his breaths coming quick and short. “Don’t stop,” he pleads even if Steve has no plans to stop what he’s doing, not when he’s so close to giving Eddie what he wants. Instead of stopping, he squeezes the head and strokes him faster. “Fuck, Steve, I’m close.” 

“Yeah, come on, Eddie,” Steve urges him on. Eddie sobs against Steve’s neck, hips jerking along with the movement of Steve’s hand. “Come for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

Eddie whines, high-pitched and needy. “Steve, I’m gonna-” He bites out just as Steve squeezes the head of his dick, his words trailing off into a moan as he tips over the edge. Steve watches Eddie come undone for him—head thrown back as his eyes roll into his head. It’s the hottest thing Steve has ever seen. It’s too much. He needs to come.

He grinds against Eddie’s hip, hard and desperate, chasing his own release as Eddie catches his breath. He’s so close already. 

Eddie must realize it too. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he tells him, his hand finding its way back to his hair, brushing it away from his face. “Fuck baby, you look gorgeous like this. Flushed and needy. Humping my leg, so desperate,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. Little whines escape Steve’s lips as Eddie starts to run his mouth.

“Can’t wait to do this somewhere else, Stevie, someplace where I can drop to my knees and blow you.”

Steve’s breath hitches, his dick twitching when he pictures Eddie on his knees for him—lips wrapped around his dick, eyes molten as he looks up at him. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah? You want that, sweetheart?” 

Steve nods eagerly. “Y-yeah. Wanna blow you too.” 

One of Eddie’s hands cups his cheek. He runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “‘Course, baby. You can do anything you want to me.” 

Steve’s hips stutter, his brain foggy as he gets closer. “Y-you too. Anything. Fuck, Eddie, please.” 

“I got you, baby, c’mon,” Eddie whispers. His hand travels down until he’s cupping Steve’s ass, urging him to grind harder against his hip. Steve feels like he’s on fire. He’s so close, he can feel it, he just needs something more-

That’s when Eddie tugs harshly on his hair at the same time Steve grinds down, and just like that, he’s done for—he moans Eddie’s name as he spills into his boxers. Eddie kisses him through it, whispering praises against Steve’s lips that make shivers run down his spine. 

Steve can’t kiss him back at first, the aftershocks of his orgasm leaving him feeling a little stupid, yet Eddie doesn’t seem to mind—happily taking control of the kiss, licking into Steve’s pliant mouth. 

Once his brain comes back online, Steve kisses him back lazily until his neck starts to hurt and the arm holding him up cramps and he has to lower himself on top of Eddie, his head resting on his chest. 

They’re quiet for a moment, the only sound in the van is their labored breathing, as well as the rain falling outside, though not as hard as before. 

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, which is slowly starting to dry. “We might’ve missed the game—” Eddie starts, and for a moment Steve is confused, having completely forgotten about it, “—but that was definitely a home run.” 

Steve snorts. He gives a weak slap to Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s baseball, you dork.”

“Eh, whatever. I won, ‘s what I’m saying.”

“You lost your money though,” Steve says, absently playing with Eddie’s curls.

“Worth it!” He says, and Steve can hear his grin in his voice. “Hey, it’s not raining as hard anymore. We can try and make it for the last few innings.” 

“Again, Eds, that’s baseball,” Steve giggles. Eddie shrugs, jostling him slightly. “And I told you I’m fine watching it in our hotel. I prefer it, actually. Can’t do this—” He props himself up on his elbow and kisses Eddie, “—at the game.” 

“Good point.”

Steve smirks. “Can’t fuck me at the game either.” Eddie splutters, his eyes nearly bulging out of his face. Steve laughs. “You okay?” 

“Yup! I just- I think my brain broke just by thinking about fucking you.”

“But you want to?” 

A hysterical laugh falls from Eddie’s lips. “Do I- Steve, sweetheart, baby, that’s the understatement of the year. Of the century even!”

Steve smiles, pleased. “Then it’s settled, we skip the game and head straight to the hotel.” He pauses, thinking something over. “Maybe dinner first. It can be our first date.”

“You don’t need to wine and dine me, baby,” Eddie says, “you already got into my pants.” 

Steve glances down at their still wet clothes. “Technically, I didn’t.”

Eddie snorts. “Guess you’re right. Okay! You can take me out to dinner, big boy. Though we should probably change first.” 

Steve shifts, grimacing when he feels the mess in his boxers. The fact that his clothes are soaked only makes him feel more gross. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

They dig through their duffel bags for dry clothes and use the back of the van to change. Steve lets himself look at Eddie in a way he never allowed himself when he stayed over or when they hung out at the pool and finds Eddie staring right back, both of them smiling—giddy and slightly disbelieving. 

By the time they change, the rain has stopped completely so Steve steps out so he can move to the passenger seat. Eddie simply climbs to the front and flops gracelessly onto the driver’s seat. Steve watches him maneuver his long limbs with a fond smile, reaching over to smooth his hair down. 

Eddie smiles back at him, dimples digging into his cheek. Steve can’t help but lean over the space between them and kiss each of them before finally kissing Eddie’s lips. 

“Are you sure you’re not even a little sad we missed it?” Eddie asks when Steve pulls back. 

He shakes his head, leaning back against his seat. “No, Eds.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, interlacing their fingers together in the space between the seats. “As far as I’m concerned, I already won tonight.” 

“Steve Harrington, you sap,” Eddie teases yet he squeezes Steve’s hand, placing them on top of his leg, refusing to let go, going as far as using his other hand to switch gears as he starts the van. “Let’s make sure you score a few more times tonight.”

“Oh yeah, baby, talk sporty to me,” Steve says in a deadpan tone that makes Eddie cackle loudly.

But despite the two of them joking about it, they score again that night.

And a few more times after that. 

[bluee08]

Astr observations 《4》

Disclaimer: I am not an astrologer. This post is only for entertainment purposes, so whatever I have mentioned, if it is reasonates, well and good, and if it doesn't, then please take it with a grain of salt. Thankyou.

🛖 Aries in 3rd house may have a very reckless yet mature behind the scenes relationship with their siblings. They also fight a lot with their siblings for no reason. Surprisingly, this usually goes physical more than verbal. Very playful relationship. There is always a strong urge to hit the other person and irritate them to death. It gives them pleasure. When injured, you might immediately stop the fight no matter how serious it is and take care of each other. Oh, and if someone else dares to trouble any of you, hell would break loose. They can't hear anything bad about each other. In certain cases, this could also apply to mars in 3rd house.

🪵 Dirty mind, Dirty mind, Dirty, Dirty, Dirty mind~ Heard the song? Yeah it's made for those who have their personal planets or ascendant conjuct asteroid Prevert. Trust me, the dumb way to die is by sneaking a glance in their minds. You will be traumatized for the rest of your life and will never look at them the same way again. At any given moment their thoughts are always in gutter. Yeah I am calling myself out at this one. Do I care? No.

🛖 Mars in 10th house folks are really good at dancing. They dance so well.... like you can see the passion in their steps. Dancing can be one of the hobbies in their lives. These people can also be known for dancing professionally and being captivating as hell on social media.

🪵 Lilith in 7th house could indiacte having seen a lot of failed marriages in their life. This could be in their immediate family or even include their own parents. Hence these people have a really different mindset when it comes to marriages. They might even resent the idea of getting married and often question, what's the point?

🛖 Moon in 1st house are babies. Literally babies. Like they look so damn cute and adorable that I just can't help myself but give them a huge hug. They are the most genuine type of people I think because its rarely when what's on their mind is not on their faces. They look so innocent and naive (even if they are legit not.) People just wanna protect them at all costs. They bring out the maternal instinct for them from the other person naturally. But no matter what their warmth is the best comfort zone and their arms are home <3

🪵 Mars in 5th house would definitely be that uncle/aunt/cousin/sibling who spoiled small kids to death and taught them to do weird stunts and create a headache for other family members.

🛖 Transit Saturn in 1st house is really frustrating. It feels like you are doing nothing progressive for yourself and just wasting time. Your efforts go in vain and its really hard to maintain consistency. Sometimes you also realize what mistakes you are making but you find it difficult to correct them. Mental state is always fluctuating and self-confidence is very down. This mainly goes on until the very end when you realize that now you gotta be serious. But when you really do hardwork and break the cycle of laziness, it pays off. Its like an immature, careless kid suddenly becoming a responsible and serious person. Remember, our beloved saturn plays mind games with you. Its either you break free from this if you want the prize or pay the price.

🪵 The people that I have seen to be most likely get cornered, misunderstood and targeted are people having chiron in their 1st house. Its really concerning and hurtful. Because of other idiots these babies get hurt on a very deep and subconscious level. They occasionally have identity crisis and depression is their bestfriend. They try to be happy but life always seems to push something in their way.

For example, I have this relative of mine and she lost her brother a year before she got married. She thought if she starts fresh, it would help. But unfortunately turned out her in-laws were not good people. She was gravely misunderstood by everyone. Even if people knew that it was not her fault, they took great pleasure in gossiping about her, blaming her and literally named her a psycho. Which she is not ofcourse. She was just mentally fragile and instead of understanding her, supporting her, they made her more unstable for no reason.

🛖 Leo venus folks love Cats. They are an animal lover by heart and soul. They are someone who might stop their car in the middle of the road because they saw a really cute cat walking on the sidewalk. Just to go their and mingle with it while thinking, If only I could take it home....

🪵 Cancer moons in 3rd house, please, please stop imitating that baby voice just to butter me up and get your work done. You might think its cute but no, I can see through everything and its so annoying plus immature. Ofc now it doesn't apply to everyone out there but those who do, please take my advice and stop it. Usually I have noticed only underdeveloped people do this but until they realize, its too late and others already find them so annoying. Honestly Cancer moons are so smart yet sometimes they.....*sighs*

🛖 Nessus aspecting Mercury could mean that you often end up hurting people through your words or the way you communicate even when you genuinely don't mean it. These people are really misunderstood a lot of times. Also this works the other way too. For example, you get easily hurt or offended when people speak ill about you. They might just share their opinion on your new home decor but instead you would feel insulted when in reality that's not the case. Not that you would hold a grudge, it depends person to person but you will definitely not overlook that. It would just sting a lot for no reason. You will always wonder, why did she say that?

For positive aspects, this could work out well too, for instance they know exactly what to say and what not to. They can be great negotiators, entrepreneurs and social influencers. They also know how to handle people embodying nessus qualities like a troll or opposition hell bent on creating trouble. Hard aspect people will slowly learn to overcome their problems in communication with time and experience.

🪵 Mars opposite MC screams suppressed anger. The thick tension between their anger and self-image is unbelievable. They don't like to get angry in public. They often gulp down their anger to the last extent because they don't want their reputation to get spoiled because of it. Sometimes its automatic they wanna get angry at someone but end up swallowing it anyway. But please don't test their patience. They might just explode unexpected at any time like a nuclear bomb and destroy everything within their range, not caring about their public image whatsoever.

🛖 Lilith in first house/Conjuct Ascendant are the infamous bad examples of the family while Lilith opposite Ascendant are the good examples with secrets darker than nightsky- always holding their sanity with a single string. Ironically, both are siblings, two sides of the same coin.

🪵 Remember, in one of my posts, I said that I don't relate with Aquarius rising and their unique fashion sense? Well, guys, I finally cracked the mystery! It's not our fashion sense that's unique. It's us. We are the aliens. Ok, that was a bad joke. But really, for example, a few months back, I wore a very pretty dress at my cousin's wedding. And istg people were looking at me like I was an alien, like I wore something totally out of the blue. As if It was not something improper or overdressed but very different than what everyone was wearing, which, of course, was not the case.

Now the funny thing is, if it was someone else wearing the same dress, I don't think anyone would've said anything about it. And voila! It happened. A few days back, I attended a family function, and I saw a girl wearing the same dress in different color and design. And fr nobody uttered a word. Those same people overlooked her as if it was totally normal. As if they didn't just make me talk of the town for a whole week because of that dress. So yeah, finally figured out, it's me, I am the problem.

🛖 Its not always true when they say Earth Mars people are calm and collected. I mean they are but suppose you have a virgo mars but you also have a Leo or Aries or Sagittarius stelium, your Virgo mars will be crying in the corner while that fire stellium will create a havoc and burn down the whole world in matter of some seconds.

🪵 North node in 11th house people are so likable. They are that one friend who knows the entire school and vice versa. So many connections and so many new friends. They just keep making connections left and right no matter where they go. People like to be in their contact. This gives me 'popular girl' vibe.

🛖 You sneaky little thing, you think no one knows how much you love reading smut? Yeah you, I am talking to you, Scorpio Jupiter/3rd house. Look me in the eye, I dare you to deny this.

🪵 Mercury conjuct Mars.... man, they literally spit fire when they talk. Can't win any argument against them. Ngl, I told my friend that I would leave her if she doesn't keep her hands off me special mention to her love language that is playfully hitting me at any possible situation. She just laughed and said, "Go, nobody would take you." Me: Cries silently. Her: I know baby truth hurts. Lemme give you a hug.

🛖 If you have no positive aspect to sun in your natal chart, it might be possible that people don't like your personality much. They think you are too egoistical or full of yourself. They might also backbitch about you a lot. Now this is just what I have observed so far. So it may not reasonate with everyone.

🪵 People with Sun conjuct Ascendant make very great leaders. They have a king/queen Aura surrounding them. And when they speak or share their opinion, people actually listen and take them seriously. When they walk in a room, they make sure everyone knows who has the authority.

[burquillos]

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the final MHA chapter because the internet seems to be very divided

I waited till MHA officially ended! Long post ahead!! People being divided on the ending makes sense. Different people come to watch shows and read comics for very different reasons and with very different expectations for an ending in mind. Especially for a series like MHA which is a battle manga that seeks to subvert shonen genre tropes.

I think part of the reason why people are so divided on it right now is because of leak culture and reaction culture. People have to remember that comic books and manga are a storytelling medium. The author actually thinks about the arrangement of the panels, what’s in the panels, and how the combination of these things can form a narrative. Reading it from twitter thread/discords from people in a rush to translate to get the information to you as fast as possible is NOT the intended way to experience the story.

The “leak format” kind of encourages people to put too much focus on certain panels and roughly translated text that would otherwise feel very different when you are reading the story through the intended medium, and when you pair that with the highly reactive way people ‘consume content’ nowadays, the result is a snowball of very volatile emotions being thrown around without a moment for people to breathe, think, and wonder for themselves “Why did the author write it like this? Was there something I missed? How does this re-contextualize story? Have I actually missed the point this whole time?” etc.

That being said, I sort of have a philosophical way of approaching MHA?? When I got back to it again, I was hyper-critical of it especially because I just came back from reading One Piece (and the writing styles and messages are VERY different). I slowly learned to judge the writing for what it is rather than keep comparing it to other series and I learned it was more enjoyable to experience the story like that.

The ending is a very hard pill to swallow for a lot of people which is understandable, but it didn’t come out of nowhere. I mean, just look at the ending lines of "Do Not Be Defeated by Rain", the poem that inspired Deku’s character:

I am also a stubbornly optimistic person, and my number one rule is never to engage with anything in bad faith. I CHOOSE to see hope through the margins and the final chapter being so open to potential encourages that thinking of mine.

So even though I think there are some things that could be handled better (the villains) and storylines I WISH were explored (OFA vestiges my beloved) there’s no reason why it couldn’t be fixed.

There is this openness to it that leaves so much room for hope and imagination that I can’t truly be mad at it.

I might find MHA lacking as an entertainment piece, but I will defend it to the end as an artistic piece.

Horikoshi has said before that he doesn’t care if his manga is popular or not, MHA is basically a culmination of the stuff he enjoys, and I KNOW drawing whatever the hell you want despite knowing not everyone will like it takes a lot of guts and it’s what makes MHA so human.

All the traces of him are in there, flaws and everything, so you can endlessly turn it around, flip back and forth and there will be always something new to unpack, learn, and realize and the thought of what could've been will always haunt people (just like Star Wars, a series he also likes kajdbaldnlk)

[quill-beetlewing]

I've just re-read the short lived duel that Aeneas and Achilles have in Book 20 of the Iliad and it's actually the most hilarious fucking thing.

So it starts out with Apollo disguising himself as Lycaon, one of Priam's many sons, and telling to have a go at Achilles. Keep in mind that this is post-Patroclus Achilles. Aka: berserk Achilles. Aka: so fucking mad he would fight a literal river Achilles.

Aeneas, who is capable of critical thinking, says he doubts he can actually take him on. He also references a time when he was herding cattle on Mount Ida and Achilles ambushed him, adding that the only reason he survived then was because Zeus gave him enough strength to book it (cracking up the official times that he's been saved by a god from certain death to 3, you go dude!).

However, after a bit of back and forth and a ton of hyping up on Apollo's part, Aeneas decides to try anyway.

Like, what could possibly go wrong?

Achilles notices Aeneas charging at him and he begins to taunt him. It's something among the lines of: "I'm sorry, are you, background trojan character #61, actually gonna try and beat me? And then what? Do you think that Priam will reward you in some way? Maybe making you king after him? Well it's BULLSHIT, because Priam fucked so much that your chances of succeeding him are basically 0. Ahah. Loser."

Now, you'd think that maybe Aeneas got enraged at the comment and attacked him, or maybe he even got scared and backed down, but NOPE. What does Aeneas do?

Well, first of all, he insults Achilles' insults, comparing his bickering to that of a child. Literally, "I heard third graders do better than that." And then he decides to list his and Hector's entire fucking family tree.

You know that part of the Bible that's like "this guy sired this other guy, and this other guy sired yet another guy" and so on? It's basically that.

So after he's done with all that, Aeneas states that while he'd love to have a battle of insults with Achilles, because according to him he's actually very good at insulting people (his words, not mine), they should probably throw hands now. Achilles agrees.

The duel is shortlived and Aeneas gets his ass handed to him. Badly. As expected. And he's about die when ✨️POV shift✨️ we're not on Olympus where Poseidon, Hera and Athena are watching this absolute train wreck go down.

Poseidon, pitying Aeneas, suddenly goes on a rant. It's something among the lines of: "come on guys, look at him, he's just a little guy! He literally has no stakes in this war, he doesn't deserve to die here! He even gives us lots of gifts and sacrifices, he's literally such a nice guy. How can we do this to him!?

...oh and also he's part of some prophecy, Zeus would get mad if he died."

The fact that the way it's worded makes it sound like Aeneas being part of a literal prophecy is an afterthought to him absolutely floors me, Poseidon is literally just attached to a random dude that's fighting on the opposite side to his because he thinks he's nice.

After all that Hera is pretty unimpressed and states that she really doesn't care if our man lives or dies as neither her or Athena have ever saved a Trojan from death, she however adds that Poseidon is free to do whatever he wants.

The literal moment Hera stops talking, Poseidon lunges down from Olympus and onto the battlefield to look for the two combatants. When he does, he saves Aeneas like only he can do.

You know how when Diomedes first tries to kill Aeneas, Aphrodite gently folds her hands around him to shield him? There's none of that here. Poseidon just runs up to him and literally flings the motherfucker.

It literally says that he flies "high in the air". It's like a Looney Toons sketch.

So Aeneas lands and, while he's obviously a bit dazed, Poseidon proceeds to call him a madman and essentially tells him to never do something stupid like that again and just wait until Achilles is dead, then he'll be able to murder Achaeans to his heart's content. Aeneas is fine with that.

Achilles, who just saw his opponent just get yeeted into the fucking sky, just shrugs and goes "welp, guess that guy's off limits, I'm gonna go kill someone else now I guess lol".

This entire scene is pure fucking gold and the fact that I've literally never seen anyone talk about it just breaks my heart.

[chimcess]

The Swimmer || ksj

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader Other tags: Doctor!Seokjin, Swim Coach! Reader, Disabled! Reader, Ex alcoholic!Jimin, Ex alcoholic!Reader, Ex. Drug addict!Reader, AA! AU Genre: Recovering Addict! AU, Strangers to lovers! AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Eventual Fluff, Mutual Pining Word Count: 31.4k+ Synopsis: Tormented by the shadows of her past, Y/N turns to AA meetings to navigate her fiancé's death and her battle with addiction. When a new doctor arrives in her small hometown, no one anticipates that he would also attend the meetings. What’s even more surprising is his growing fascination with one of the town's most notorious residents. Warnings: Talks of past drug use, talks of past alcohol abuse, discussions of significant death (does not happen in story), Reader has significant major depression and anxiety, Reader has a prosthetic leg, Talks of a bad car accident, Talks of drunk driving, Small town leads to gossips and rumors, Jin is a suffer in silence type, ANGST, Mentions of toxic relationships (not between MC and Jin), Side character death (not in story), descriptive talks about drugs, discussions of relapses, violence, near-death experiences (in and out of the story), almost drowning, Strong language, kissing, intense make out, Talks of prosthetics and disabilities, Reader has not come to terms with being an amputee, Bitterness, Guilt, Huge insecurities, Jin and MC are working towards getting better A/N: Look at me, revamping an old post. What a shocker. I want to say that this story does not glorify drug abuse or alcoholism, but rather seeks to reduce stigma around addiction. I acknowledge the complexities of addiction and the potential for recovery, expressing hope that you, the reader, will appreciate the effort and care put into this little world of mine. While the piece includes medical and swimming terminology based on research, I can admit to possible inaccuracies as I am not a doctor. Thanks for reading!

Playlist

The building loomed like a forgotten giant, sagging under the weight of time and secrets long buried. Its once-proud bricks were now crumbling, more like brittle bones than a foundation holding anything solid. Moss crept over the edges, a dark, damp rot that gave the place an air of sickness, as though something malignant had taken root deep within the walls. The overgrown grass at the door whispered softly, as if urging it to stay shut forever, locking away whatever haunted the inside. But this place was as familiar to Y/N as the back of her hand—she had spent too many nights under its decaying roof.

Sherry and Brad were already inside; their cars parked haphazardly in the lot, scattered like discarded remnants of their own struggles. Mandy had called Y/N earlier, her voice tight with that nervous excitement she got when something new was brewing. She’d mentioned a new member joining tonight, but his name had slipped through Y/N’s mind like smoke—something foreign-sounding, exotic maybe. But it didn’t matter. Newcomers came and went. They all gathered in this rotting building for the same reason: to escape the demons that clung to them, whether from drugs, alcohol, or, in Y/N’s case, a potent mix of both.

As Y/N trudged toward the entrance, she noticed Yoongi pulling into the lot. His car was as worn-out as his spirit, but Yoongi had always been a constant, a steady presence born of shared scars. They didn’t need to exchange many words—just a glance, a nod. That was the kind of friend Yoongi was. He’d been through hell—once a college basketball star, a shoulder injury had derailed his future, sending him down a dark path of painkillers and heroin. But Yoongi had clawed his way out. Six years sober now, he was trying his best for his little girl. In a town haunted by broken dreams, Yoongi understood better than anyone.

Y/N waited for him by the door, and they exchanged a wordless hello, a ritual as familiar as breathing. Neither of them were much for small talk, and if Yoongi didn’t like her, Y/N knew he would’ve told her by now—he was blunt like that. Their shared misfortunes had forged an unspoken bond. His ruined shoulder, her ruined leg—two sides of the same broken coin.

“Heard about the new guy?” Yoongi asked as they settled into their usual seats, his voice low, cautious, like he was testing the air.

The scent of coffee wafted over from the back of the room. Sherry and Brad were likely brewing it strong, the kind of brew that could wake the dead. That earthy, rich aroma tugged at something deep inside Y/N, stirring memories of simpler times. She could’ve used something stronger—something that burned on the way down.

“Yeah, Mandy called. Didn’t say much,” Y/N muttered, her eyes flicking toward the door.

“He’s some kind of doctor. Works at Children’s Hospital.”

“A pediatrician?” Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“Pulmonologist,” came a sudden voice from across the room, making Y/N flinch. Namjoon’s booming voice sliced through the quiet like a blade, startling both her and Yoongi.

“What the hell, Namjoon?” Y/N shot back, her heart racing from the sudden noise.

Yoongi gave Namjoon a mock glare, clutching his chest. “Jesus, man. You trying to give me a heart attack?”

Namjoon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He was a bundle of energy, all nervous ticks and enthusiasm, and it still surprised Y/N that he was a recovering addict. He didn’t look like someone who had faced the darkness. If anything, he was the light in a room full of shadows.

“Pul-mo-what?” Yoongi asked, frowning.

“Lung doctor. He’s from New York,” Namjoon explained, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “And he’s Korean, too!”

“No shit?” Yoongi’s face broke into a rare, wide grin, his gums showing—a glimpse of the man he had been before everything fell apart.

The weight of Namjoon’s words settled between them. For Yoongi, it wasn’t just about someone new joining the group—it was about a connection to something he’d lost long ago. His roots in South Korea ran deep, and he hadn’t seen his family in years. His last conversation with them had ended in harsh words, a wound too deep to heal. When he’d told them about becoming a father, their disappointment had nearly crushed him.

“Coffee’s ready,” Brad called from the back.

Normally, Yoongi would have jumped up to get them both a cup, but tonight he just shook his head. Y/N noticed the dark circles under his eyes and felt a flicker of concern.

“I’m cutting back,” Yoongi muttered. “Mai’s been watching me drink coffee and saying she wants to be like me. Tamla’s not happy.”

“How much are you drinking?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Three pots a day,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Holy shit,” Namjoon gasped. “And I thought Y/N had a problem.”

“Go to hell,” Y/N shot back, rising to her feet. “I’ll get my own damn coffee.”

As Y/N made her way to the small, claustrophobic coffee nook, she heard the door creak open behind her. A hush fell over the room, and she could feel the weight of attention shift. The new guy had arrived. She didn’t need to turn around to know he was something different; the air was charged with an unfamiliar energy.

Y/N glanced back. The man stood at the door, tall and composed, his presence somehow brighter than the dim room around him. His rust-colored hair, slicked back, gave him a quiet, authoritative air, and the way he moved—graceful and sure—made Y/N’s pulse quicken.

“Y/N, come meet Dr. Kim!” Namjoon called, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

Y/N’s throat tightened as she stepped forward, coffee forgotten. Dr.Kim’s honey-brown eyes met hers, warm and filled with something she couldn’t quite place. Her heart lurched, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

“Hello, you’re the new guy?” Y/N’s voice barely rose above a whisper, her hands suddenly clammy.

“Dr. Seokjin Kim,” He replied, his voice smooth, almost melodic. There was something genuine in his tone, something real that cut through the facade this place often carried.

“Y/N. I hope you like it here,” she mumbled, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as Seokjin’s gaze lingered on hers for just a second too long.

Jin’s smile widened, and Y/N felt a strange sensation, as though she were floating, untethered, momentarily free from the weight she always carried. 

"Y/N, get this," Taehyung said, throwing an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close with his wide grin. "Jin’s from Vegas."

"I grew up in Vegas, but I was born in South Korea," Jin corrected softly. His tone was shy, almost apologetic, as if the attention was an uncomfortable weight pressing down on him.

"And he went to Harvard for medical school," Amanda chimed in, her voice filled with awe, eyes gleaming like she was announcing the arrival of a celebrity.

Jin shifted uneasily under their scrutiny, running a hand through his hair, his cheeks flushing pink. It was clear he wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Y/N could feel a strange kinship forming, the shared discomfort of being picked apart under curious eyes. She felt an instinctive urge to protect him, though she barely knew him.

"That’s... nice. Good for you," Y/N mumbled, shrugging off Taehyung’s arm. "But can we get the meeting started? We’re here to talk about feelings, not résumés. Save that for the end of the month."

Yoongi chuckled beside her, and Jin gave a weak smile, but the rest of the group groaned, their silent annoyance hanging in the air. Y/N wanted to disappear, to vanish into the cracks of the old, decaying building. The weight of her accident and everything it had taken from her hung over her like a storm cloud, suffocating and relentless. She was wearing a dress tonight, a fabric that felt like it clung too tightly to her, a constant reminder of the leg she no longer had and the life she had lost.

As Brad began the meeting, Y/N could feel the stares lingering on her, eyes that seemed to burn holes into her already fragile skin. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to lose herself in the familiar rhythm of the group’s stories, the rise and fall of voices recounting their struggles and triumphs. They were here to heal, but tonight felt different. Jin’s presence stirred something in her, a vulnerability she wasn’t prepared to face.

"Alright, who wants to share?" Brad’s deep voice rumbled through the room, pulling Y/N back to the present.

"Hi, my name is Namjoon," a voice spoke up. It trembled slightly at the edges, though it was steady enough. "And I’m an addict."

"Hi, Namjoon," came the automatic chorus in response, the voices forming a fragile lifeline in the dimly lit room.

Namjoon hesitated, the silence stretching as he gathered his thoughts. "This week was okay. I didn’t have any bad days, but sleep’s still hard to come by. Work’s kept me busy, though." He glanced over at Jin, the newcomer, before continuing. "I work at the shipyard, fixing boats."

He shifted in his seat, a flicker of hope crossing his face. "I’ve been thinking about getting a dog. Maybe having something to take care of will help with the loneliness, you know? Keep me from getting too bored."

Sherry leaned forward, her smile as warm as the summer sun. "I think that’s a great idea, Joon. Remember how much Jimin’s sugar gliders helped him?"

Laughter rippled through the room, a brief, welcome break from the tension. Jimin’s bizarre love for his tiny pets had always been a source of amusement for the group. Eleven months sober now, Jimin walked the line between chaos and control, always dangerously close to the edge, yet never quite falling over.

"I’ll help you find a dog," Jimin offered eagerly, leaning forward. "I guess I’ll go next. Hi, my name’s Jimin, and I’m an alcoholic."

"Hi, Jimin," the group echoed, falling into the familiar rhythm of routine.

The meeting continued, voices rising and falling like waves, each one sharing a snippet of their rebuilt lives, piece by fragile piece. Taehyung talked about his latest fasting challenge, Amanda beamed about a raise at her job, and Yoongi—who rarely spoke up—couldn’t hide his excitement about his daughter Mai’s upcoming dance recital. Little Mai, with her boundless energy and love for tap dancing, had become the bright spot in Yoongi’s shadowed life.

Then Jin spoke, his voice cutting through the room like a gentle breeze. "Hi, my name is Jin, and I’m an alcoholic."

"Hi, Jin," the group responded.

"My week’s been... well, it’s been a big one," Jin said with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Moving here from New York, starting a new job... I’m excited to be here, though. I brought my cat, Serendipity, with me—she’s my emotional support animal, and she’s helped me a lot. I just finished my residency, and now I’m working at Children’s Hospital."

His words were calm and measured, but underneath them, there was something else—an eagerness, or perhaps a desire to fit in, to be understood. Brad nodded, acknowledging Jin’s story with the same quiet respect he gave to everyone.

"Good to have you, Jin," Brad said, his gaze then shifting to Y/N.

Her stomach twisted into knots. She hated this part. "Hi, my name’s Y/N, and I’m an addict."

"Hi, Y/N," the group responded, voices softer now, as though they sensed the weight of what was to come.

Y/N took a breath, but the words caught in her throat. "I had a good week until yesterday. It’s… it’s still hard being around the pool." Her voice wavered, memories flashing behind her eyes—the sound of laughter, the cheers when Jungkook beat her old swimming record. "Jungkook broke my record. I was happy for him, really. But when I hugged him, it felt like everything was crashing down. Like… like I’d lost it all over again. I’m never going to be in that pool again, and it just hurt."

Sherry’s voice broke the silence, soft and soothing. "It’s okay to feel that way, honey."

"No, it’s not," Y/N snapped, the tears burning at the corners of her eyes. "It’s been almost four years since the accident, and I still feel stuck."

"Now," Brad��s firm voice cut through the room, pulling her back from the edge. "Everyone processes things differently. You’re not ready, but you’re getting there. These things take time, Y/N. Your whole world flipped upside down in just a few hours; no one expects that to go away overnight."

"You’d be surprised," she muttered bitterly, the sharp taste of resentment creeping into her voice.

Brad didn’t flinch. His steady gaze didn’t waver. "They don’t have to live your life. You do. They get to judge without being in your shoes. You lost Hoseok, your leg, and your career in one night. That’s a lot to process on your own."

Yoongi’s hand landed gently on her shoulder, grounding her. His warmth anchored her in the storm of her emotions. "Be kinder to yourself," he said softly.

Sherry nodded, her gaze full of concern, like a soft light cutting through the fog. "Exactly. Give yourself some grace."

Y/N gave a small nod, but the words rang hollow in her ears. They were right, but that didn’t make it easier. The room felt too close, the walls pressing in as everyone’s eyes seemed to rest on her. She glanced at Jin, who was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place—sadness, maybe? Or confusion? Whatever it was, it made her feel exposed, raw, as if she’d shared too much. Her stomach twisted with the sudden urge to flee.

The bitterness inside her flared, and she shot Jin a sharp glare, frustration spilling out before she could stop herself. He blinked, startled, but didn’t say anything, just kept watching her, like he was trying to understand the storm inside her. 

This week had been hell. Today was worse. She needed to leave.

The whisper of alcohol, usually faint, was louder than ever, curling around her thoughts like a familiar seduction. It was always there, lurking in the background, but today it gnawed at her, a sharp hunger she couldn’t shake. She drank more these days than she popped pills, telling herself it was better because it wasn’t illegal. Not yet, anyway. She shook her head, disgusted with herself, but the urge wouldn’t leave. 

Hoseok wouldn’t approve. His name echoed in her mind like a ghost, his memory cutting through the haze of her thoughts. She clenched her fists, fighting the surge of emotion that rose up, threatening to overwhelm her.

“See you all next week!” Sherry’s cheerful voice jolted her back to reality, pulling her out of the spiral of her thoughts.

Y/N stood quickly, eager to escape the room and the suffocating air that seemed to cling to her. Yoongi and Namjoon called after her, inviting her to grab burgers with them and Dr. Kim. She waved them off with a half-hearted smile, her refusal polite but firm. She didn’t have it in her tonight—no appetite for food, or for company, especially not with Jin. The meeting had left her frayed, her nerves worn thin. She needed to be alone.

Unlocking her car, she heard laughter behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw them—Yoongi, Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung—walking toward the parking lot, carefree and laughing like they didn’t have a worry in the world. She felt a pang of relief for having opted out. Jimin and Taehyung together were a chaotic duo, and she didn’t have the energy for their antics tonight.

She opened the hatchback of her car and tossed her bag inside, wincing at the mess. Papers, receipts, and fast-food bags cluttered the back, a disaster she knew she should clean. But the truth was, she wouldn’t. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Just as she was about to climb into the car, she heard a sound—laughter, sweet and light, cutting through the gray like a burst of sunshine. She turned and saw Jin laughing, his head thrown back, eyes crinkling with joy. His smile was wide, and for the briefest moment, Y/N felt her lips twitch, the weight in her chest lightening just a fraction. His laughter was infectious, warm, and genuine, like a ray of light piercing through the storm.

But it didn’t last. Her smile faded as quickly as it had come, the cold weight of memory crashing back down on her. Jin didn’t have a dimple. Hoseok did. Right next to his lip, a small indentation that deepened when he smiled—a smile that had once lit up her entire world.

Y/N slammed the hatchback shut, the sharp sound echoing in the parking lot. The fleeting warmth drained from her, replaced by the familiar heaviness of loss. She climbed into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. She drove off, unaware that a pair of eyes had been watching her the whole time, oblivious to the storm raging inside her as she disappeared into the night.

"Let’s go, guys!" Y/N yelled, the sharp blast of her whistle cutting through the humid air like a warning siren. The pool hall fell silent, the chaotic energy of twelve boys immediately snuffed out as they turned to face her, wide-eyed and ready. Moments before, they’d been a whirlpool of laughter, splashing and teasing each other during the break, but now they stood at attention. She had given them a short water break after warm-ups, but now it was time to push them through a grueling 2800-yard workout that would leave them gasping for air. They'd already swum 800 yards just warming up—what she had planned next was going to test their limits.

Jungkook stood out, grinning at her with that infectious smile of his, so bright it seemed to light up the dimly lit pool hall. Y/N smiled back, but the warmth of it was bittersweet. An ache stirred in her chest as she watched him. She wished she could be like him again, young and full of energy, where the water was freedom and not a reminder of everything she had lost. Pushing away the weight settling over her, she cleared her throat and forced her focus back to the task at hand.

"Alright, we’ve got a 1600 main set. Between each rep, we’ll switch out with easy breast and backstrokes. Got it?"

"Crystal!" the boys shouted, their voices bouncing off the tiles in an eager echo.

"Good. Starting with a 4x100 with a 15-second rest. First 25 is butterfly, then 3x100 with a 10-second rest. First 25 butterfly again. Got it?"

Nods all around, some of the boys already bracing themselves for the challenge.

"Next, we’ve got a 2x100 with a 5-second rest. First 25?"

"But-ter-fly!" Jungkook called out, his excitement palpable.

"Exactly, Jeon. And we’ll wrap it up with 8x50 freestyle. Fast and easy."

The boys lined up at the edge of the pool, ready to dive in. Y/N braced herself, waiting for Oliver Beck to inevitably raise his hand. He always had questions about the practice set, thanks to his ADHD, and she didn’t mind. He was a talented swimmer, and she knew that with a little patience, he could be something great.

"Coach?" Beck called out.

"Yeah, Beck?"

"What’s the cooldown?"

Y/N glanced at her meticulously crafted practice sheet. "4x100, alternating free, back, breast, with frees by 100s."

"Got it! Thanks!"

"Never a problem, Beck. Now get in position."

The practice flowed smoothly after that. The steady rhythm of the swimmers cutting through the water became a kind of music, one that soothed Y/N, though it didn’t quite erase the ache clinging to her. Watching her students thrive was both a source of pride and pain. Especially Jungkook. He had a natural talent that reminded her of herself at his age—so full of potential, so confident. The way he attacked the water, his strokes powerful and sure, made her heart swell. But it also reminded her of everything she’d lost.

As the boys wrapped up their cooldowns, Y/N’s phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Erica, a nurse from the hospital where Jin worked. They were throwing a welcome party for him at Spotty’s, the local bar—an odd choice for a recovering addict, but typical for this town. Jin had politely declined, so they’d moved the party to the high school gym instead. Tamla had called Y/N, too, inviting her to come. She was glad Tamla and Yoongi wouldn’t be attending Spotty’s—it would have been too much, too soon for them, given Yoongi's sobriety.

After practice, Y/N set the time for Monday’s session and headed toward the gym. The parking lot was already full, the sea of cars stretching out in front of her. A familiar shiver crept up her spine. She wouldn’t stay long—crowds always suffocated her, and in this small town, everyone remembered her past. The stares, the whispers, they still haunted her. She was no longer Y/N, the swimming star. She was Y/N, the addict who’d lost everything.

Outside the gym, Taehyung stood with Amanda, their gazes meeting hers with a shared understanding. They were the town’s outcasts, bound together by their mistakes. Y/N had always been the one they blamed for Hoseok’s death, while Taehyung and Amanda were just “the wrong crowd” from high school who had spiraled into drugs. She was surprised to see them there.

"The pool’s cleared out if you guys want to escape for a bit," Y/N called, trying to lighten the mood.

They nodded, grateful, as they made their way toward the water. It had become a quiet ritual for them after the chaos, a place to breathe.

Inside the gym, Yoongi and Tamla were laughing with a couple Y/N hadn’t met before. New neighbors, probably. News traveled fast in Loch Keen, so they likely knew all about her before she even had the chance to introduce herself. The "drunk, pill-head coach who lost a leg in the Loch" was the story everyone loved to tell. With their group was Hoseok's mother, Dr.Eun-Jae Jung. Y/N quickly turned away, hopeful that the older woman had not noticed her.

Eun-Jae was kind but she looked far too much like her son, and it ripped Y/N's heart out to speak with her.

“What’s shakin’, baby?” Jimin’s voice pulled Y/N from her thoughts as he squeezed her shoulder, his presence warm and grounding.

She hadn’t realized how lost she’d been, standing in the doorway, mind drifting. Relief washed over her. Jimin was the buffer she needed, his humor always keeping her afloat.

"Wrapped up practice when Tami called. She invited me."

"That was sweet of her."

"Did you hear they wanted to go to Spotty’s?"

Jimin let out a loud, infectious laugh. "Bring the alcoholic to the bar—genius move."

"You know this town is full of geniuses," Y/N quipped, grinning as Jimin nudged her playfully with his elbow.

“Geniuses with their heads so far up their asses—oh, good evening, Mr. Stanley.”

Victor Stanley, Jimin’s boss and a man Y/N had always admired, approached them. To Jimin, he was a source of discomfort, but to Y/N, he was a lifeline. When she’d hit rock bottom, he’d offered her shelter and a hot meal. He was one of the few who saw her as more than her mistakes.

"Jimin," Stanley greeted curtly before turning to Y/N, his expression softening. He pulled her into a hug. "Good to see you, kid. How’s work?"

"Bittersweet," Y/N replied, the truth slipping out before she could stop herself. Her hand moved automatically to adjust Stanley’s popped collar. Little things like that always drove her crazy.

"It’ll get better," Stanley said, his voice filled with the kind of quiet confidence Y/N had always admired. "I told you they have that physical therapy place in Esther—" 

“I know, Pops,” Y/N interrupted, her voice tight as she scanned the room, searching for an escape. “Where’s Erica?”

Vincent Stanley chuckled, his warm, fatherly laugh doing nothing to ease the knot tightening in her chest. "By the food, of course. You know her." He gestured toward the buffet table, and Y/N forced a laugh, already pulling Jimin toward the exit, throwing a quick wave over her shoulder.

"I’ve never met someone less subtle in my life," Jimin muttered as Y/N finally let go of his arm.

"Baby."

"What’s wrong with talking to him?"

"Just not ready for that yet."

Jimin nodded, his eyes lighting up as Erica came into view. She was stunning, her skin porcelain with freckles that danced in the soft light, her hazel eyes shifting between ocean blue and deep green. Her hair, pulled into a messy bun, framed her face with ashy blonde curls. It was obvious that Jimin was smitten, and Y/N could see Erica playing into it, their unspoken attraction simmering in the air.

"Go ahead," Y/N sighed, giving him a gentle nudge toward Erica.

"Love you," he said with a grin, patting her head before striding toward Erica, whose smile brightened at his approach.

Y/N watched them for a moment before turning away, a familiar pang of loneliness settling deep in her chest. Everyone seemed wrapped up in their own little worlds of happiness. She used to be part of that. But now, she was always the one dancing alone at these town gatherings. Her gaze drifted to Yoongi and Tamla, deep in conversation with Dr. Kim. She quickly looked away, blending into the crowd. Seeing Tamla always brought too much back—she looked too much like Hoseok. And tonight, he was already heavy on Y/N’s mind.

She considered slipping over to join Taehyung and Amanda by the pool but quickly thought better of it. Amanda would have a fit if Y/N interrupted her time with Taehyung. "Stop stealing my mojo, man. I’m so close to getting in his pants," she’d always joke. They both knew it was far from true, but it never stopped Amanda from saying it.

Y/N’s eyes found little Mai, a whirlwind of energy and joy, playing with the other kids in the late afternoon sun. Her laughter echoed through the yard, reminding Y/N so much of Yoongi that she couldn’t help but smile. She decided against interrupting; Mai had taken a long time to warm up to anyone after everything she’d been through, and Y/N wasn’t about to risk stunting that progress. If things continued as they were, poor Tamla would be stuck with two antisocial recluses for the rest of her days—Yoongi and Mai, forever joined in their quiet, stubborn ways. Y/N chuckled at the thought, imagining Tamla bribing Yoongi with takeout just to get him out of the house.

A light tap on her shoulder pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She turned, surprised to find Dr. Kim standing there. His presence was both unexpected and, in that moment, unwanted.

"Oh," Y/N stammered, "Dr. Kim."

"I just noticed you standing here and thought I’d say hi," Jin said, his smile warm and genuine.

"Sorry I didn’t say it first. Hi," Y/N replied, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, feeling the heat rise in her face.

She hadn’t felt flustered around a man since Hoseok. Jin was polished—his hair slicked back, his glasses perched just so, and his crisp white coat draped over his neatly pressed clothes. He looked too put together, too good for this small, broken-down town. The voice in her head whispered harsh reminders: Too good for you.

"No worries," Jin said, his kindness disarming. "I heard you coach the swim team here."

"Yeah," Y/N said, cringing at how lame she sounded.

"That’s so cool! I figured you coached, but I thought it would be somewhere else. Not here."

His eyes briefly flicked to her prosthetic, and Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She had grown used to these moments, the glances, the unspoken questions. She fought the urge to lash out, reminding herself that Jin was new—he didn’t know the whispers and judgments that painted her as the town’s one-legged crazy woman. She had Hoseok’s father to thank for even getting this job after she’d cleaned up her life.

"Principal Jung was kind enough to give me the job after I got sober," Y/N explained, trying to steady her voice. "The swim team went a year without a coach. Jungkook, the captain, tried to keep it together, but they couldn’t compete. I’ve been coaching for two years now, and we’ve won nationals both times."

"That’s really impressive," Jin said, a genuine spark of excitement in his voice. "Were you a swimmer?"

"Yeah. I used to be," Y/N admitted, her voice almost cracking. "But I got sober about three years ago and haven’t been in the pool since. Don’t think I ever will again."

Jin nodded, his expression softening as he understood. "How long ago did it happen?"

"Four, almost five years ago. Bad car accident."

Jin’s eyes fell, and he ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, which didn’t move an inch. "I didn’t know. Some of the nurses mentioned it, but I didn’t want to bring it up."

Y/N shrugged. "No need to apologize. This town gossips like it’s a sport. Everyone knows everything."

"News travels fast, huh?" Jin chuckled, taking a sip from his cup.

"Welcome to the Loch," Y/N said sarcastically, punctuating her words with exaggerated jazz hands. It was ridiculous, but Jin laughed, and for the first time that night, Y/N found herself smiling—really smiling. His laughter was contagious, warm, and genuine, and it felt good to share in it.

"Coach! Doc!"

The moment shattered. Namjoon’s voice boomed from across the yard, cutting through the comfortable atmosphere like a wrecking ball. Y/N turned to see him strutting toward them in a loud Hawaiian shirt, glasses perched on his nose, though she knew full well he didn’t need them.

"Joon," Jin greeted cheerfully, raising his cup.

"You," Y/N deadpanned, crossing her arms, the corner of her mouth twitching. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Clothes," Namjoon replied, pulling her into a tight, crushing hug.

She didn’t hug him back.

“It’s good to see you, man.” Jin and Namjoon embraced in a quick hug, the easy camaraderie between them instantly pushing Y/N further into the background. As they launched into animated conversation about Jin’s new job at the hospital, Y/N could feel her comfort slipping away, like sand through her fingers. She wasn’t good in these situations. Namjoon was the life of the party, and Jin was now fully absorbed in his energetic presence. Y/N, on the other hand, felt like a fading echo.

She took a step back, quietly slipping into the crowd, her eyes scanning for Tamla and Yoongi. She had to call it a night soon, but she wanted to see Mai one last time before disappearing. These gatherings were harder than they used to be, especially without Hoseok. His absence loomed large, a shadow over every conversation, every laugh that should have been his. Hoseok had been the light at gatherings like this, turning mundane moments into something vibrant and alive. Without him, Y/N felt lost, adrift in a sea of familiar faces, all reminders of the life that had been ripped away.

Finally, she spotted Yoongi and Mai near the buffet table, lost in a moment of pure joy. Yoongi’s gummy smile lit up his whole face as he played with his daughter, her laughter infectious. Y/N rarely saw him so animated, and it warmed her to witness how far he’d come. He could have left when Tamla told him about the pregnancy—most would have, and he knew it. But he’d stayed, and he’d fought to be a better man.

“I wanted to get sober for Mai,” he had confessed to Y/N one evening, his voice raw with emotion. “I fell in love with Tamla during those 90 days, started getting excited about being a father. But I knew I needed to get sober for myself if I was gonna keep it up. And now? I’ve never been happier.”

Watching him now, it was impossible to doubt him. The way he gently caressed Mai’s head, laughing as she squealed about unicorn cupcakes, made Y/N’s heart ache in the best way. He handed Mai three cupcakes, though two would likely go home untouched. Tamla would probably have something to say about the sugar, but for now, it was all laughter and love. Y/N stood on the edge of their world, feeling a quiet, bittersweet longing for that kind of warmth and happiness—something she’d lost and feared she might never find again.

“There you are!” Tamla’s voice rang out, bright and full of warmth, cutting through the haze of Y/N’s thoughts. She turned to see Tamla approaching, arms open for a hug. Y/N melted into the embrace, the comfort of it grounding her.

“Sorry about that,” Y/N said, pulling back with a smile. “I saw you talking to Dr. Jung and that new couple and didn’t want to deal with it.”

Tamla chuckled. “I figured.”

Tamla was stunning. Her skin, deep and polished like mahogany, glowed under the soft evening light. She had recently buzzed her once long hair, and the bold change only accentuated her striking beauty. She moved with a quiet confidence that silenced judgment before it even began. Yoongi was utterly smitten, and Y/N couldn’t blame him.

“I hear Jungkook’s killing it in the pool,” Tamla said, her tone brightening.

“Yeah, the kid’s a beast,” Y/N replied, a surge of pride swelling in her chest. She had watched him grow, helped shape him into the swimmer he was now. “Better than me, probably.”

“I bet his parents are proud. You taking the boys to state this year?”

“Of course,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. Before she could say anything else, a high-pitched squeal interrupted them.

“Mommy!” Mai ran up, her face smeared with frosting, a portrait of joy. 

Tamla quickly switched into mom mode, wiping frosting from her daughter’s face as Y/N stepped back, letting herself fade into the background once again. This time, it didn’t sting as much. She thought about how much she’d cherish having a little one like Mai. A warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought, but it was quickly followed by the cold reminder of everything she’d lost. 

Yoongi caught her eye and gave her a small wave, a silent hello. Y/N smiled back before deciding to make her exit. She leaned down, hugging Mai, who squeezed her tight and giggled, filling Y/N with a fleeting sense of warmth. It was time to go. The weight of the gathering had become too much, and she needed to escape the suffocating memories.

As Y/N made her way toward her car, her mind buzzed with thoughts. She needed to stop spiraling. Maybe Kitchen Nightmares or the new season of The Great British Baking Show would help clear her head. Anything to drown out the noise in her mind. She fished her keys from her back pocket, always keeping a spare on her lanyard. She quickly texted Amanda, letting her know she was locking up the pool, and then spotted her little Fit in the lot.

But as she got closer, her stomach dropped. Someone had parked way too close to her driver’s side door.

"Who the hell parked like this?" she muttered to herself, her voice sharp in the stillness of the empty parking lot.

Brenda Richards. Of course, it had to be her. In a town full of entitled people, she was the reigning queen. Her parking wasn’t just careless—it was a bold declaration of superiority, a reminder that rules didn’t apply to her. And there it was, right in front of Y/N—her car crammed so close to Y/N’s Fit, it was as if Brenda had parked blindfolded. The audacity of it set Y/N’s teeth on edge.

“Everything okay?” A voice cut through her rising irritation.

Y/N turned to see Dr. Kim standing nearby, concern flickering across his face. She sighed, the tension in her chest refusing to dissipate.

“It’s fine,” she muttered. “Just Brenda.”

“Mrs. Richards?” he asked, stepping closer to survey the narrow space between their cars. He let out a low whistle.

“Yeah, she can’t park for shit, and now I can’t get out,” Y/N grumbled, leaning against the back of her car, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her. “I bought a Fit to avoid crap like this, but apparently, even that wasn’t small enough for her. It’s like she parks with her eyes closed.”

Jin chuckled, a soft, warm sound that momentarily eased the knot in Y/N’s stomach. “I could help you back out if you want. I’m pretty sure you can make it.”

“I know I can,” she said, frustration slipping into her voice. “It’s the getting in part that’s the problem.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely curious. For a moment, Y/N felt a flicker of hope, like maybe he had a solution.

“There’s always the passenger side,” he suggested lightly.

Y/N paused, considering the offer. He didn’t realize just how cramped her car was. Climbing over the center console would mean removing her prosthetic, and she wasn’t about to do that in the middle of the parking lot. “I can’t climb over like that anymore,” she admitted, keeping her tone neutral. “The space is too tight, and I’d have to take my leg off.”

Jin’s expression shifted, and Y/N could see the faint flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. “Oh... I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted, waving it off. “You’ve got all your limbs. Can’t expect you to know what it’s like being an amputee.”

She popped the trunk and sat on the edge, letting her legs dangle. Her prosthetic swung slightly beneath her, a constant, tangible reminder of the life she used to have. The new limb was top-of-the-line, a sleek upgrade from her last one, but it still felt foreign to her. She glanced down at her sneakers—ugly, sensible Sketchers. Heels were a thing of the past.

“I’ll back it out for you,” Jin offered, his voice cutting through her thoughts.

“You sure?” Y/N asked, surprised by his kindness. Most people wouldn’t offer to help a stranger, especially not in a situation like this.

“Yeah, no big deal,” he said, taking the keys from her. “I’ve been thinking about getting a Honda Fit myself. Heard the gas mileage is great.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she handed him the keys. “It’s a nice change from a Jeep,” she admitted, feeling a bit of the tension drain away.

“I drive a Lexus,” Jin said with a grin as he opened the passenger door. “But she’s old.”

Y/N moved aside, watching as Jin crawled awkwardly into her small car. She chuckled to herself as he struggled to maneuver his way into the driver’s seat, bumping his head in the process. It reminded her of something Hoseok would have found hilarious, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the absurdity.

Jin cursed softly as he finally got situated, and Y/N burst into laughter, the sound surprising her. It felt good to let go, even just for a second.

Jin laughed along with her, his voice echoing inside the car, warming the cold evening air. A few moments later, he had backed her car out smoothly and climbed out, beaming.

“I like it,” he said, handing her the keys. “You’re good to go, little lady.”

“Thanks, Dr. Kim,” Y/N said, giving him a small wave as she climbed back into her car. They exchanged an awkward smile before she pulled out of the lot.

Jin was cute, with a kindness in his eyes that made him seem a little less untouchable than she had first thought. But his smile—that was the thing. It made it hard for her to look at him for too long. He seemed too good, too perfect for a place like Loch Keen. And Y/N knew better than to trust perfection. No one came to this town without skeletons of their own.

As she drove home, the quiet of the road felt suffocating. Since the accident, Y/N had learned to be a defensive driver. No radio, no distractions—just the hum of the engine and the blast of the AC to keep her company. She focused on the road, careful, always aware. After all, she had lost everything once in a crash.

Pulling into her driveway, Y/N narrowly avoided a cat lounging in the middle of the road. She honked, the sound slicing through the still air like a knife. The engine died as she parked, and her eyes fell on the cupholder.

There, nestled where her keys had been, was a phone. Not hers—this one was sleeker, fancier.

Shit. Jin’s phone.

He must have dropped it while climbing through her car. Guilt gnawed at her. After everything he had done to help her, she had driven off with his phone. She immediately called Namjoon to explain, and ten minutes later, he was knocking on her door.

But Jin wasn’t with him.

Disappointment hit her like a cold splash of water, and she hated herself for it. Of course Jin wouldn’t come himself. He was new in town, careful about his reputation, and she wasn’t worth the trouble of a late-night errand. She shook off the thought, pushing down the misplaced hope that had bubbled up—a hope for something familiar, something like what she had with Hoseok.

Namjoon handed her a quick smile, took the phone, and left. Y/N shut the door and felt the night fold in on itself, heavy and familiar. She took a cold shower, the chill biting through her skin, then crawled into bed. The routine was a comfort, the predictability of it soothing the chaos in her mind.

Like clockwork.

It wasn’t until the following Monday that Y/N saw Jin again. This time, he was in scrubs, the baby blue fabric striking against his skin. Y/N lingered in her car longer than she should have, watching him disappear into the building. The nervous energy swirling inside her was almost unbearable. There was something about him that didn’t sit right—an attraction she couldn’t control, as if it was some dark secret clawing its way to the surface. She didn’t want to think of him as pretty, but she couldn’t help it. There was a quiet intensity about Jin, a confidence that whispered of danger, and it made Y/N uneasy in a way she couldn’t explain.

As soon as Y/N stepped inside, Amanda was on her, grabbing her arm without a word and dragging her down the hall before she could catch her breath. Y/N pretended to be annoyed, but inside, she was grateful. Another awkward moment with Jin was the last thing she needed. Amanda looked rattled, her quick pace and the tension in her grip betraying her anxiety. This wasn’t like Amanda, and Y/N could tell that something big was about to spill out. When they finally stopped in the restroom, Amanda’s composed facade cracked.

“You know I can’t walk that fast, Mandy,” Y/N said, rubbing her aching thigh. Her voice came out sharper than intended, but Amanda barely noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Amanda replied, breathless, her voice tight with emotion. The tension clung to her like a second skin. “Tae is taking Willow out this Saturday.”

“What?” Y/N blinked, her brain scrambling to process the words.

Everything started to make sense. Amanda had been in love with Taehyung for years. They’d hooked up a few times, but nothing had ever really solidified. And now, to hear he was going out with someone else—Willow Hart of all people—was like a punch to the gut.

“He told Jimin, who told me. She came into the body shop on Thursday, and they hit it off. They’re having dinner at that burger place on Maple.”

“Wait, wait, wait—Taehyung is going out with Willow Hart? The girl who got him arrested?”

“Yes.” Amanda’s voice cracked, barely holding it together.

“I thought she moved away for good.”

“Erica told me she just got her master’s but couldn’t find a job. She’s going to teach calculus at the high school next year and is working at Spotty’s in the meantime.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, though it was a bitter, disbelieving sound. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Willow was trouble, always had been. Blonde hair, blue eyes—yeah, she was pretty—but she was the one who’d ratted Taehyung out for smoking behind the school, getting him expelled and arrested. Amanda was the one who understood him, had been through hell with him. But even Y/N knew their relationship was a mess—fueled by lust, trauma bonding, and all the wrong things. Part of her was relieved Taehyung was moving on. Maybe Amanda should too.

“I wish I was,” Amanda sighed, her shoulders sagging as the weight of it all pressed down on her.

“Fuck him,” Y/N said, pulling Amanda into a tight hug. “Don’t let this get you down, okay?”

And just like that, Amanda broke. Her body trembled with sobs as she clung to Y/N like she was drowning. Anger flared up inside Y/N, her fists balling up with the desire to punch Taehyung for putting Amanda through this. She had always known this would end badly. But the more she thought about it, the more she understood. Taehyung wasn’t the villain here. He and Amanda were better friends than anything else, and her dependency on him weighed on him, constantly reminding him of his past mistakes. It was a no-win situation.

“Why doesn’t he like me?” Amanda cried, gripping Y/N like she was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Who cares if he doesn’t like you? I like you.”

They stayed huddled in the restroom for what felt like an eternity, Amanda holding on tight as Y/N kept her close. By the time they rejoined the group, Amanda was a wreck, but Y/N stayed by her side, sitting with her instead of letting her gravitate toward her usual spot next to Taehyung. No one asked questions. They could see how much Amanda was struggling, how she was leaning on Y/N for support. For the rest of the meeting, Amanda held Y/N’s hand, gripping it tightly like a lifeline, and Y/N never let go. She knew Amanda needed her strength tonight.

As the meeting wrapped up, Brad caught Y/N’s eye, his expression questioning. 

“She okay?” he mouthed.

Y/N nodded, giving him a reassuring look. Amanda stretched, then quickly left the room, eager to be alone. Y/N squeezed her hand one last time before letting her go. She wasn’t worried about Amanda falling back into old habits. Amanda had come too far for that. It had been over a year since she and Taehyung had been involved, and Amanda had grown stronger without him. She didn’t see it yet, but everyone else did—Taehyung included. She was better off without him dragging her down.

“Is Mandy okay?” Taehyung’s voice broke through Y/N’s thoughts, and she turned to find him standing there, concern etched across his face.

“Yeah, just overwhelmed,” Y/N replied, her voice cool, brushing him off. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

“Thanks for taking care of her,” Taehyung said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve always been such a good friend to her.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Y/N said, her voice hard. “Don’t thank me.”

The words came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t care. Amanda had asked her to keep things calm for now, and Y/N wasn’t going to stir up drama on her behalf. Amanda would confront Taehyung when she was ready, and Y/N wasn’t about to get in the middle of it. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what Taehyung saw in Willow, and whether this thing between them would last. Maybe Willow had changed since high school, and maybe she hadn’t. Either way, Y/N wasn’t going to let the drama from years ago ruin her friend’s chance at happiness.

Even if she still had her doubts.

Y/N wanted to go back and apologize. The guilt gnawed at her, sinking its claws in deep, dragging her thoughts down into a spiraling mess. But before she could take a single step, a voice cut through the fog, sharp and sudden.

"Y/N!"

She looked up to see Jin waving at her from across the parking lot, his smile so bright it made her stomach churn. It was a smile that dug up something buried deep, something she thought she’d left behind. Part of her wanted to keep walking, to keep her distance. But she couldn’t. That damn politeness won out, so she stopped, frozen in place, feet rooted to the asphalt. Before she knew it, Taehyung and the rest of her problems faded into the background.

Jin jogged over, his smile still beaming, his cheeks a little pink. “Hey! I just wanted to thank you again for getting my phone back to me. I always misplace things.”

Y/N’s defenses softened despite herself. There was something about his awkwardness, his genuine embarrassment, that made it hard to stay distant. “It’s really no big deal,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “I felt bad for driving off with your stuff.”

Jin hesitated, shuffling his feet slightly, glancing at her, then down at the ground. “How does dinner sound?”

Her heart stuttered. This is bad. Very bad. She knew herself—once her interest in him was out there, it would all unravel. She wasn’t good at hiding her feelings, and that scared the hell out of her. Jin was too good, too polished. He deserved someone whole, not someone still haunted by the past, still chained to a promise she couldn’t break. Someone like him belonged with a Beyoncé, not a woman who spent her nights reliving the moment her life shattered.

Y/N forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No.”

Jin’s face fell, just for a second, the disappointment clear before he quickly covered it with a forced laugh. “Ah, well, worth a shot, right?”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, the weight of it pressing down hard. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said, hating how raw her voice sounded. “It’s just… it wouldn’t be fair. To either of us.” She could see the pain in his eyes, even though he was trying so hard to play it off. “We don’t really know each other. And this town… it watches me like a hawk, waiting for me to screw up. You don’t want to get tangled up in that. Trust me.”

Jin’s smile faltered, but he didn’t interrupt. He just listened, patiently, letting her spill it all out.

“And if I’m being honest,” Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper now, “I’m not ready for a date. It’s been eight years… and the last person I was with was my fiancé. I haven’t thought about moving on, and the idea of it makes me feel… guilty. Like I’m betraying him.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and thick, like a confession she hadn’t meant to make. She rubbed the ring on her finger absentmindedly, the metal cold and familiar. It was a promise she hadn’t broken. Couldn’t break.

Jin’s face softened, and instead of pulling away, he looked at her with something deeper than sympathy. Understanding.

“What if it’s just two friends grabbing a bite?” he asked softly, his voice like a warm breeze cutting through the chill. There was something in his eyes—something kind, gentle—but not pity. 

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. Had she misread him this whole time?

“So… you weren’t asking me out?” 

“Oh, I was,” Jin said with a small chuckle, his smile still there but less intense now. “But you’re right. We don’t know each other that well yet. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay. I still like spending time with you, and I’d love to grab dinner. As friends.”

She searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all she saw was that same disarming warmth. “No ulterior motives?”

“None,” he said, his smile softening. “I just want to get to know you better. No pressure.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing toward her car across the parking lot. Her hands felt clammy, nerves buzzing just under the surface. But his offer didn’t seem dangerous anymore—it felt safe, a small escape from the weight she carried. And maybe that’s what she needed.

“Okay,” she finally said, feeling the knot in her chest loosen a little. “Follow me. We can grab steak and eggs at Bronco’s.”

Jin’s grin spread wide, dazzling in its brightness, and for a second, something fluttered in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. He was a charmer, no doubt about it, and part of her wished she’d had the strength to say no. But the other part—the selfish part—was thrilled.

For a little while, at least, Jin Kim would be hers.

Jin was a gentleman in every sense, the kind of guy who opened doors, let Y/N speak first, and never tried to overpower the conversation. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a tension bubbling beneath the surface, something unspoken, lingering like a bad smell in a small room. Bronco’s had good food, sure, but Y/N knew the locals would have a field day seeing her here with the new doctor. It had been ages since she’d dared to eat out in town, and sitting across from Jin, of all people, was like handing them fresh gossip on a silver platter. She could already feel the whispers crawling over her skin, like a bad itch she couldn’t scratch. 

In the short time they'd been sitting there, she’d learned a few things about Jin. For one, he loved his sweet tea so sugary it was practically syrup. The man was dumping Splenda into his glass like it was some kind of race. It made her smile, despite the quiet dread in her stomach. His mother must’ve spoiled him with sugar, because that sweet tooth didn’t belong to a grown man. And then there was his food: steak, mid-rare, eggs runny—over-easy or sunny-side up. Hoseok had been the exact opposite, always ordering his steak cooked into oblivion and his eggs scrambled so hard they were practically rubber. Hoseok never liked sweet tea either, always pushing it aside for a glass of orange juice, bitter and sharp, like him.

Y/N cursed herself for thinking about Hoseok again. He slipped into her thoughts like a thief in the night, breaking in when she least expected it. She could never shake him, even when she tried.

“People are staring at us,” Jin whispered, sinking lower in his seat, his eyes darting nervously around the diner, like a deer sensing trouble.

Y/N glanced past him and immediately locked eyes with Fred Coops, the sheriff. He looked away the moment their gazes met, like a kid caught peeking through a keyhole. Y/N let out a small scoff, shaking her head. Fred was on her list, right up there with Brenda, the queen of gossip in Loch Keen. He’d been the one who found her and Hoseok that night, and since then, he’d arrested her three more times. 

“You’re having dinner with the town junkie, Dr. Kim. People are bound to stare,” Y/N muttered, taking a long, bitter sip of her coffee. “Just ignore Coops. He’s a piece of work.”

Jin raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t he a cop?”

“Yeah. First person to hit me, actually. Well, besides Declan.” Y/N gave a humorless smile. “We went to high school together. One time, during a game of Just Dance, he knocked me over—accidentally, of course. I was still in my wheelchair back then. Taehyung had relapsed, and I wasn’t much better, getting deep into the bottle. We were at Spotty’s, completely wrecked. I started a fight with Brenda’s son, Eric. Coops shows up, and honestly, it’s all a blur after that. Tae got in his face, things got heated, and the next thing I know, Coops is pushing my chair toward his cruiser. Then he just… dumps me out. Face-first on the concrete. They went at it, and Coops accidentally kicked me in the face. Gave me a black eye. No charges, though. But let’s just say it didn’t make him any more popular.”

Jin’s eyes went wide, disbelief written all over his face. “He kicked you? And he still has his badge?”

“Yep. Small-town politics. They don’t like him much, but they like me even less.”

Jin frowned, stirring his tea slowly. “I can’t imagine living in a place like that. Where everyone knows your business.”

Y/N chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Start imagining. Loch Keen’s got no room for secrets.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn’t as heavy. Y/N watched as Jin’s thoughts seemed to swirl behind his dark eyes, the way his brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment, he looked just like Jungkook when he was deep in thought, that same endearing pout tugging at his lips. Something inside her stirred, a fleeting urge to smooth away the worry lines on his forehead, to chase away the shadows in his expression.

Their waitress, Taylor, arrived with their food, setting the plates down with practiced ease before slipping away again without a word. She was one of the few in town who knew when to keep her nose out of other people’s business. Y/N appreciated that, especially now. In Loch Keen, that kind of discretion was a rare gift.

“Can I ask you something?” Jin said quietly, his fork pressing into the yolk of his egg, watching as the golden liquid bled out across the plate like a slow spill of sunlight.

Y/N looked up, mid-chew, and nodded. “Sure.”

“How did your addiction start?”

The question landed like a punch, heavy and unexpected, knocking the air from her lungs. Y/N set her fork down, feeling the weight of it, like her story had claws, digging into her chest. Jin’s gaze was steady, open, and for some reason, she felt she could tell him the truth, unvarnished and raw.

“I got into a car accident on Highway 32,” she started, her voice low and brittle. “I was drunk, coming back from a party at Edith University. Hoseok was supposed to pick me up. I was too far gone to drive, so I planned to crash at his place for the weekend.” She swallowed, the memories flooding back in waves, cold and unforgiving.

“We got hit by an 18-wheeler. The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel, ran a red light. Hoseok died on impact. I barely survived.”

The diner’s hum seemed to dim as she spoke, the clatter of dishes and low murmur of conversations fading into background noise. Y/N’s voice wavered, but she pressed on, feeling the words tear their way out of her.

“My leg… it was crushed, pinned between the car and the light pole. They couldn’t save it, but they managed to keep my knee. I lost everything that night—Hoseok, my leg, my swimming career, my future. And my parents… well, they never forgave me. They loved him more than they ever loved me. I spent weeks in the hospital, mostly alone.”

Her voice trembled as she recounted the long days of isolation. “Mandy and Taehyung would visit, but Jimin was in Esther, getting clean, and the others… they weren’t around. Everyone was too busy grieving Hoseok. I was just… there. It didn’t take long before I started drinking to fill the silence. And then the pills. It was easy—too easy. No one noticed, not until it became their problem. By then, it was too late. My parents left town to escape the memories, and the only one who seemed to care was Victor Stanley.”

She trailed off, the silence between them thick, heavy like the weight of years lost to the bottle, to painkillers that dulled everything she didn’t want to feel. Jin’s face softened as he absorbed her words, his shock giving way to a deep, quiet empathy.

“I’m sorry,” Jin said, his voice gentle, like he was afraid to push too hard, to break her with the wrong word. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.”

Y/N gave him a small, bitter smile. “What you deserve and what you get in life are two very different things.”

They sat in silence after that, the weight of her story hanging in the air between them. Jin seemed like he wanted to say something, his mouth opening and closing a few times, but the words didn’t come. Y/N forced herself to focus on her food, pushing the memories back into the dark corners of her mind where they belonged. But they clung to her, like shadows she couldn’t shake.

When the bill came, Y/N paid without thinking, feeling the pull of exhaustion creeping in. They walked out together into the cool night, the parking lot illuminated by the harsh glow of streetlights. Jin lingered by his car as Y/N started to walk toward hers, but his voice stopped her.

“Y/N!”

She turned, seeing him standing there, an almost hesitant look on his face.

“I wrote my number down on the receipt,” he said, his voice softer now, a little unsure. “If you feel… weird tonight, just call me. I know that was heavy, and I didn’t mean to—"

Y/N gave him a smile, feeling a strange warmth bloom in her chest. Of course, he noticed. He had been paying attention all along, probably more than she realized. She was never good at hiding her emotions, and Jin seemed to see right through her. 

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’m glad you asked. I’d rather you hear it from me than from anyone else. And whenever you’re ready, you can do the same. I’m here to listen.”

Jin smiled, a small but genuine smile, and for the first time that night, Y/N felt her heart flip in her chest. There was something in his gaze, something kind and safe, that made her feel just a little bit lighter.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jin.”

As Y/N climbed into her car, she felt a strange sense of calm settle over her. Maybe it was the fact that someone had listened, really listened, without judgment. Maybe it was knowing that, for the first time in a long time, someone understood. 

She drove home with Jin’s number tucked away in her pocket.

Y/N pulled into the parking lot, wedged tightly between Jimin’s hulking truck and the crumbling asphalt. Her usual spot felt smaller than usual, as though it were closing in on her. When she swung open the door, her knee banged against the edge, pain shooting through her leg like a cruel reminder of how nothing ever went smoothly. She glanced around, searching for Jin’s white sedan—his car was always easy to spot in the sea of faded paint jobs and rusting metal. But today, it was missing. The absence gnawed at her, and though she tried to shrug it off, the knot in her stomach tightened. He was probably just running late. Still, she had been looking forward to seeing him all day, her nerves buzzing, the anticipation simmering beneath the surface. It would settle, she told herself, once he walked through the door.

Inside, the air was thick, heavy with a tension that seemed to cling to every surface. Taehyung sat by himself, his expression dark and brooding, a storm cloud waiting to break. Mandy had taken a seat next to Yoongi on Y/N’s side of the room, breaking the unspoken seating arrangement they all adhered to. Y/N caught Namjoon’s gaze across the room; his brow was furrowed in confusion, reflecting her own. Something was wrong. And deep down, she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what it was.

Y/N settled into her usual chair, the wood creaking beneath her like an old warning. Yoongi glanced at her, his usual air of detachment replaced with a tension that tugged at his features. The silent bickering between Taehyung and Mandy was like a low-grade infection, simmering beneath the surface, infecting everyone in the room.

For once, Y/N found herself siding with Mandy. Taehyung had dragged her through emotional hell for years, toying with her while she clung to whatever fragile hope remained. They had crossed lines that shouldn’t have been crossed, and now everyone was left to deal with the fallout of their latest drama.

“Hope everyone’s having a good night,” Sherry’s voice broke the silence as she took her place at the front. Her smile flickered, struggling to stay lit like a candle about to be snuffed out.

“Looks like we’re missing someone,” Brad added as he settled into his chair beside her. His voice was casual, but the curiosity was evident.

Y/N’s stomach clenched as her eyes scanned the room again. No Jin. Just an empty chair and a suffocating absence that felt like it was sucking the air from her lungs. Her heart thudded, heavy and anxious. Missing a meeting was never a good sign. It was a crack in the carefully constructed walls they all relied on to keep themselves together. Worry gnawed at her.

“Probably busy at the hospital,” Brad shrugged, dismissing Jin’s absence with a wave of his hand before launching into the meeting, like it was just another routine Tuesday. But to Y/N, it wasn’t. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Where was Jin?

Namjoon’s update about his new dog, Yeontan, a tiny Pomeranian that radiated joy, brought a few chuckles, and Jimin’s story about adopting a cat to combat loneliness almost lifted the mood. But Y/N barely heard any of it. Her worry for Jin drowned everything out, an unease that crept up her spine and settled in her chest.

“Hi, my name’s Taehyung, and I’m an addict.” 

“Hi, Taehyung,” the group echoed back, though Mandy sat rigid, arms crossed, her hurt and anger visible like armor.

“I had a date on Saturday. It went well,” Taehyung continued, his voice uncertain, his eyes flickering toward Y/N.

“How did it make you feel?” Brad asked, offering a gentle smile, but the weight in the room was thick, almost suffocating.

“It felt... great,” Taehyung said, forcing a laugh, but there was a hint of embarrassment underneath. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much.”

“Nice, Tae,” Sherry chimed in, but her enthusiasm felt off, like she was trying too hard to gloss over the deeper issues simmering just beneath the surface.

Then it was Y/N’s turn. She sighed, feeling the pressure of everyone’s gaze on her, a spotlight she didn’t want.

“Hi, my name’s Y/N. I’m an addict.”

“Hi, Y/N,” came the familiar response.

“Well,” she began, her voice quieter than she meant, “I’ve been doing better than usual.”

“Anything new?” Sherry asked, her tone casual, but there was an edge to her words that immediately set off alarms in Y/N’s mind.

What did she know? Y/N’s life was a strict routine, predictable to the point of monotony. The only thing outside her usual schedule had been that dinner with Jin. But was that really “something new”?

“Did you hear something?” Y/N asked, stretching her arms overhead in a show of nonchalance, though her heart was pounding.

“Brenda heard from Sheriff Coop’s wife that you were out with Dr. Kim,” Sherry admitted, her cheeks flushing.

“We had dinner after the meeting last week. And?” Y/N shot back, her voice sharp, defensive.

“People are saying you two looked pretty close,” Jimin chimed in, a smirk curling on his lips, the gleam in his eyes that of a cat that had just found a fresh bowl of cream.

A flash of irritation flared up inside Y/N. “People also said you had herpes when you had that cold sore.”

Yoongi barely managed to choke back a laugh, Namjoon’s deep laughter echoed in the room, and even Jimin had to hide a grin.

“Enough,” Sherry interjected, laughter bubbling up from her despite herself. “I’m just happy to see you branching out again. It’s been a while since you’ve made new friends.”

Y/N shrugged, her heart not in the conversation. “I guess.”

But the truth was, her thoughts weren’t with the group. They were elsewhere, racing ahead, searching for answers. Where was Jin? Why hadn’t he shown up? The worry gnawed at her, digging deeper with every passing minute, the empty chair beside her feeling heavier and heavier as the meeting dragged on.

Mandy stayed silent, and Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that her friend’s quiet demeanor was masking a storm brewing just beneath the surface. Anxiety thrummed in Y/N’s veins, a low and constant hum, as her mind flickered to Jin. Had she misread him? Was he unraveling, spiraling somewhere she couldn’t reach?

Before she could make sense of it all, Amanda shot up from her seat, her emotions exploding out of her like a thunderstorm. The meeting wasn’t over, but she was already halfway to the door. Y/N called after her, voice sharp with concern, but Amanda didn’t even slow down. The door slammed behind her, leaving a hollow silence in its wake.

The room felt stifling, the stillness almost unbearable.

“She’s so melodramatic,” Namjoon muttered, crossing his arms with an exasperated sigh, his lips curving into a pout.

“She’s hurting right now,” Y/N snapped, more defensive than she’d intended. People forgot that underneath Amanda’s theatrics was real pain, raw and sharp, not just some show for the rest of them to gawk at.

Y/N stood, her eyes scanning the parking lot through the window, searching for Amanda. But there was nothing. No sign of her. The knot in Y/N’s stomach tightened. She fumbled for her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Mandy’s number, but when she dialed, the only response was the cold, empty ring of a call going unanswered.

Her hands shook as she tried again. Six times. Still nothing. Desperate, she fired off a quick text to Erica, hoping she might know where Amanda had gone.

Y/N: Bad meeting. Mandy’s torn up about Tae and won’t take my calls.

The minutes stretched on, each one ticking by with an agonizing slowness, until her phone finally buzzed in her hand.

Erica: I’ll swing by her place after work.  

Erica: You and Doc, huh?

Y/N groaned under her breath. “No!” she thought. The last thing she needed was for her friendship with Jin to blow up into something more, feeding the ever-hungry gossip mill that thrived in Loch Keen.

Y/N: Just friends, babe.  

Erica: More for me.

Y/N smirked at Erica’s teasing, but beneath that small smile was a gnawing unease. Had Jin avoided the meeting because of her? That question ate at her until she remembered the receipt still tucked away in her car’s cupholder, Jin’s number scrawled in messy, hurried handwriting. It felt like a lifeline in the midst of her uncertainty, a thin thread connecting them.

Without thinking twice, she dialed the number. Each ring echoed in the stillness of the car, the sound growing louder, almost accusing, like the ticking of a clock marking the passage of time she wasn’t sure she should spend.

It’s just a check-in, she reminded herself. Just one AA friend checking on another. No big deal.

“Hello?” Jin’s voice came through, thick with fatigue, like he’d just woken up from a nap he didn’t want to leave behind.

“Hey, Dr. Kim,” Y/N stammered, her nerves getting the better of her. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to steady. “It’s Y/N… from AA.”

There was a pause, then his tone softened, lightening with a spark of recognition and something warmer. “Y/N! Hey, yeah. What’s up?”

“I just noticed you weren’t at the meeting tonight and wanted to check in, see how you’re doing.” The words felt flimsy, a half-truth dressed up as concern. She had missed him—missed seeing him—and the worry that had built up inside her needed an outlet.

“Got stuck at the hospital,” Jin said, a heavy sigh in his voice. “New patients, and I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone make it to meetings. Honestly, when I’m off, all I do is sleep.”

Y/N hummed, a wave of embarrassment creeping up her spine. Of course, Jin had real obligations. It wasn’t like she was the center of his world, no matter how much she had been preoccupied with him. Still, the fact that he wasn’t there had unsettled her in a way she didn’t want to admit.

“No worries. Sorry for bothering you,” she said, resting her forehead against the steering wheel, the coolness of the metal soothing the heat rising in her cheeks.

“You’re not bothering me,” Jin replied, his voice softening, a hint of a laugh brightening the tone. “Actually, I’m glad you called. I was dragging my feet about driving home.”

“Well, glad I could help motivate you… to shower,” Y/N joked, a smile tugging at her lips as the tension between them eased just a bit.

“Ah, no shower tonight. But at least now I feel ready for the drive.” Jin’s laughter spilled through the phone, warm and infectious.

Y/N chuckled, her anxiety loosening its grip, replaced by the lightness of their exchange. “Happy to be of service.”

She glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. As much as she wanted to keep talking, she knew she needed to let him go, let them both call it a night.

“I’ll let you go now,” Y/N said, her voice softer, reluctant to hang up.

“Be safe,” Jin replied, the warmth in his voice wrapping around her like a gentle embrace.

“You too,” she murmured, her chest feeling lighter, like something heavy had finally lifted.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Jin.”

As Y/N hung up and slid the phone into her lap, a quiet sense of peace settled over her. She turned the key in the ignition, the car rumbling to life beneath her. As she drove out of the parking lot, the world didn’t seem as heavy as it had before. The worry that had followed her all night faded, leaving only the echo of Jin’s voice, a steady reminder that maybe—just maybe—things were going to be okay.

Three weeks had slipped through Y/N’s fingers since Jin had last shown up at an AA meeting. Everyone knew the hospital had its claws in him—Erica had told Jimin that Dr. Kim was drowning in new patients, struggling ever since Dr. Greyson’s sudden retirement. The old doctor had been the bedrock of the town, reliable as the tide, and now, with him gone, Jin was left to fill the shoes of a man who had become a legend. It gnawed at Y/N to think of him buried under all that weight. He hadn’t had a night off in weeks, and she could only imagine how that pressure was grinding him down.

Saturday nights were becoming a war zone in Y/N’s mind. Boredom was an old enemy, creeping in like smoke, choking her with every passing hour. But instead of falling into old habits—into a bottle or a pit of tears—she found herself at the pool hall, the quiet slosh of water offering a kind of uneasy comfort. The night was still, the kind of stillness that presses in around you, heavy and suffocating. Her phone sat on a nearby chair, playing soft music, a soundtrack to the echoing thoughts that circled in her head.

She let her leg dangle in the water, the coolness soothing her skin, but then came that dark, creeping thought—If I jumped in, I’d sink like a stone. No one would find her until Monday, when the janitor would come in and see her floating face down. The image flashed through her mind, sharp as a knife, and she fought it back, barely.

Victor’s suggestion of physical therapy in Esther buzzed in her brain like an angry wasp, but the idea of failing at the one thing she had left—her hope for recovery—made her stomach churn with dread. It was cowardice, and she knew it. But facing that truth? That was a whole different beast.

It looks like a limb torn off,  

Or altogether just taken apart.  

We’re reeling through an endless fall.  

We are the ever-living ghost of what once was.

The lyrics of Band of Horses floated over her, Hoseok’s favorite band. Their music had been the backdrop of every road trip, every lazy afternoon. She could still hear him singing “Infinite Arms” on their first anniversary, his voice cracking as he laughed, dimples deepening with every note. Eighteen and wild, with no idea how short their time would be. 

The memory hit her like a slap, and suddenly, she was laughing, then sobbing, the tears coming so fast she couldn’t stop them. The emptiness, the constant hollow feeling that gnawed at her, it all came flooding back, stronger than ever. Would it ever go away? She wanted to believe that one day she wouldn’t wake up with Hoseok’s name burning in her throat, but that day seemed as far away as the moon.

She stared at the deep blue water, the thought creeping back: No one would find me until Monday…

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

Her phone’s ringtone ripped through the silence, jarring her out of the pit she’d been sinking into. She dragged herself over to the chair, fumbling for her phone as she hopped awkwardly, legless but functional.

“Hello?” she answered, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Y/N? Where the hell are you?” Tamla’s voice crackled through the phone, filled with panic.

“The pool,” Y/N replied, confused. “What’s going on?”

“Alone? Are you crazy?” Tamla’s voice rose, sharp with urgency. Y/N could hear her shouting something to Yoongi. “She’s at the pool!”

“Tami, what’s happening?” Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a sick dread clawing at her insides.

“It’s Mai. She’s coughing up blood again. We’re in the ER.” Yoongi’s voice rumbled in the background, his calm breaking under the pressure. “It looks like pneumonia. Yoongi’s coming to get you.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped, her peace shattered in an instant. The weight of everything—the hospital, Jin, Hoseok, and now little Mai—it was all pressing down on her like a boulder.

Yoongi’s car screeched to a halt outside the pool in what felt like no time at all. She hopped into the passenger seat, her leg aching with every movement as she struggled to get situated.

“Where’s your leg?” Yoongi asked, his eyes flicking over to her with concern as she buckled in.

“It hurt too much to try and put it on,” Y/N muttered, tossing the prosthetic into the backseat before settling into the passenger side.

Yoongi’s eyes flicked over to her, concern tugging at his brow. “Your chair’s still at our place,” he said, shifting the car into gear. The engine grumbled as they sped off into the dark night, the quiet hum of the road doing little to untangle the knot of dread that had coiled tight in Y/N’s stomach.

Mai’s diagnosis had been like a storm cloud settling over them all, dark and suffocating. The lupus had wormed its way into their lives slowly, like an unwelcome guest creeping into every corner. After a string of lung infections last year, it had become a constant shadow they couldn’t shake. Tamla had been the first to spot the swelling in Mai’s tiny joints, her mother’s instincts pricking at the signs that something wasn’t right. Yoongi had brought it up at the hospital, and the doctor’s grim expression had thickened the air, each word adding weight. They always said the chances of a transplant were slim, but the possibility hung over them like a specter, impossible to ignore.

Now, with Mai back in the hospital, it felt like the ground beneath them was slipping. Panic gnawed at Y/N, unraveling the thin threads of hope they had desperately clung to.

The hospital waiting room was a study in tension when Yoongi and Y/N arrived. Amanda held Tamla close, whispering quiet reassurances that seemed too small for the storm raging inside them. Jimin paced near the window, his restless energy barely contained. Taehyung prowled like a caged animal, his expression tight with worry, while Sherry and Brad murmured softly with Namjoon. The weight on Namjoon’s shoulders was visible in every stiff movement, his eyes betraying a turmoil far deeper than his calm demeanor. He loved Mai fiercely, with a protectiveness that came from the bond they had forged long ago. For Namjoon, who had no children of his own, Mai was everything.

Tamla’s voice broke the room’s silence when she spotted them, her cry cracking like a dam bursting. Yoongi rushed to her, pulling her into a fierce embrace, while Y/N maneuvered her chair closer, her heart heavy with the same fear gnawing at them all.

“Hey,” Y/N murmured, taking Sherry’s hand, her gaze searching for something—anything—in Namjoon’s eyes that might reassure her. But his expression mirrored her own dread. This wasn’t just another flare-up; this felt different, darker. The thought of losing Mai twisted inside Y/N like a knife.

Namjoon leaned against Y/N, his voice soft. “Why are you in the chair?”

“I wasn’t wearing my leg when Yoongi came. It hurt too much to put it on,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, hoping to offer some comfort. “She’s gonna be okay, Joon.”

“I know.” His words were steady, but the tremble in his eyes told the real story.

Brad rested a hand on Y/N’s arm, the unspoken solidarity between them clear. They understood their roles all too well—being the pillars while carrying their own burdens. Yoongi had to be with Tamla, and Y/N knew her time to support him would come later. Right now, it was about being there for Mai, for Tamla, and for each other.

“What’s going on, baby?” Yoongi’s voice was gentle but urgent as he held Tamla close, his eyes searching hers.

“They said her antibody levels are low,” Tamla whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained fear. “They’re moving her to the ICU. They want to do a bone marrow biopsy, but I waited for you before going in.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Yoongi replied, his voice steadying her like an anchor in a storm.

Their love had always been a strange paradox—fierce and quiet, wild yet grounded. Tamla’s vibrant spirit had drawn Yoongi in, but it was his quiet strength that kept them steady. Y/N had seen their connection, knew it ran deeper than anyone realized. In moments like these, Yoongi’s vulnerability became visible, his need to protect Tamla evident in every word and every gesture.

A silent question passed between Yoongi and Y/N as they exchanged glances.

Staying?  

Yes.

As Yoongi and Tamla left for the ICU, Y/N settled back into the waiting room. Time stretched, distorted by the tension, until Brad and Sherry quietly excused themselves, citing work in the morning. Amanda left soon after, ushering a bleary-eyed Taehyung home. That left Y/N, Namjoon, and Jimin, who had slipped out to shower and change, leaving Y/N alone with Namjoon and their shared silence.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen to her?” Namjoon’s voice was barely audible, his gaze fixed on the floor, as if afraid to face the reality of his question.

Y/N hesitated, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Well... the infection could lead to sepsis. That’s probably the worst-case scenario.”

Namjoon’s head snapped up, fear flashing in his eyes. “Do you know how fatal that is?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“About forty-eight percent,” a voice cut in, and Y/N turned to see Jin standing there, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. His normally sharp features were softened by fatigue, his dark eyes rimmed with sleepless nights. And yet, even like this, he was striking—a tired beauty that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “But she should be fine,” he added, his tone meant to reassure, though it couldn’t erase the fear.

“Hey,” Y/N said, her voice softer now.

“Hey,” Jin replied, a small, tired smile on his lips.

Namjoon stood, and the two men embraced briefly, their quiet connection clear. Y/N looked away, giving them their moment.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Namjoon muttered after a beat, his voice thick with the weight of his thoughts.

“Be safe,” Y/N said, her hand tracing a comforting line across the back of his as he passed. Physical touch had always been Namjoon’s way of staying grounded, of keeping the worst thoughts at bay.

With Namjoon gone, Jin took the empty seat beside Y/N. The air between them felt charged, heavy with words that hadn’t been spoken. It had only been a few weeks since they’d last seen each other, but it felt longer. That night had left Y/N with a strange, confusing ache she hadn’t been able to shake.

“How’d you know about sepsis?” Jin asked lightly, trying to cut through the thick atmosphere.

“Got warned about it all the time,” Y/N said, her voice flat.

Her response caught Jin off guard, and a flicker of guilt passed through her. He had been trying to lighten the mood, and she had shot him down without even realizing it.

“I finally get a night off, and Mai ends up here,” Jin said, a hint of frustration coloring his words.

Y/N nodded. “It’s hard, not being able to do anything. I’ve just been sitting with them, trying to be there while the doctors come and go.”

The silence between them deepened, heavy with everything they weren’t saying.

“I’m happy to see you,” Jin said finally, his smile breaking through the tension like a small light in the dark.

“I’m glad to see you too,” Y/N admitted, warmth blooming in her chest.

For a moment, she was caught up in him, her heart beating a little faster, but reality pulled her back. She let out a soft laugh.

“You should go home, Dr. Kim. You’ve been working yourself into the ground. You need rest.”

“Don’t ‘Dr. Kim’ me, Y/N,” Jin chuckled, his voice teasing.

Y/N couldn’t help but smirk. “Just did,” she shot back, though she tried to keep her grin hidden. “Seriously, you look exhausted.”

Jin sighed deeply, his weariness settling in his features. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head, feeling the weight of her own emotions pressing down on her. “Yes,” she lied, her voice betraying none of the turmoil inside. Mai was hurting, and Y/N felt utterly helpless. There was no way she could go see her, not in this state. They all knew the unspoken rule—only Yoongi and Tamla could visit, to minimize the risk of infection. Yoongi, as always, would bury himself in work soon enough, seeking solace in routine. Tamla wouldn’t be able to focus on anything until she knew her daughter was safe.

“Me either,” Jin finally admitted, his voice heavy, his exhaustion matching her own.

“What’s happening right now?” Y/N asked, her voice softer, afraid of the answer.

“She’ll be sick for a few days,” Jin explained, his words slow, deliberate. “The biopsy’s already been sent to the lab. It’s a waiting game now.”

As he spoke, Jin reached out, running his fingers through Y/N’s hair, his touch gentle, almost absentminded. The sensation made her freeze, her breath catching in her throat. The world around her seemed to blur, narrowing until all she could focus on was the warmth of his hand against her scalp. A simple touch to the knee was one thing—a passive gesture of comfort. But this? This was something different. Something intimate. She knew she should pull away, set a boundary, but instead, she leaned into it, her body betraying her, craving the connection.

A soft hum of appreciation escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“Careful, Jin,” she murmured, half-joking, her eyes slipping closed as she relaxed into his touch. “I might ‘accidentally’ roll over your toes.”

He chuckled, a warm, quiet sound. “Please have dinner with me again,” he said, his voice low as his hands found their way to the nape of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine, the simple touch sending sparks through her.

“When?” she breathed, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Friday night. We can drive to Esther.”

A smile spread across her face, warmth blooming inside her, pushing aside the dark clouds that had hung over her since they arrived at the hospital.

“I’m usually resting my leg then,” she teased lightly, the tension in her shoulders loosening. “I might be in my ‘Hot Wheels.’”

“I’d be honored to escort you anywhere we go,” Jin replied, his voice filled with an earnestness that made her heart flutter. There was no playfulness now, just a quiet sincerity that left her breathless.

The moment wrapped around them like a blanket, soft and warm, pushing the chaos of the hospital into the background, if only for a brief while. And for that fleeting moment, Y/N let herself dream—let herself imagine what could be. The possibility of happiness, the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was a future where things didn’t feel so heavy. Where she wasn’t always running from her past. And with Jin beside her, it didn’t seem so impossible.

For the first time in what felt like ages, she allowed herself to believe in that hope.

It was one of those nights again—another sleepless Saturday where the shadows stretched far too long, and the past felt like it was creeping up behind Y/N, whispering its secrets into her ear. Names like ghosts haunted her: Hoseok, Mai, Amanda. They played on repeat in her mind, a relentless rhythm of worry that kept her restless, unable to sit still. So she came here, to the edge of the pool, chasing the silence that might calm her down. 

The water shimmered under the moonlight, calm and inviting, as though it wanted her to slip in, disappear beneath its surface. She dipped her foot into the cool water, feeling the relief spread through her leg, easing some of the tension that had built up inside her like coiled wire. But beneath the physical release, there was still a chill, a deep, gnawing ache that never quite went away—like an old scar that never stopped hurting. How strange, she thought, to fear the water now, a place that had once been her sanctuary.

Music drifted softly from her phone, a quiet soundtrack to the chaos in her mind. Mai was stable now, the doctors had said, recovering slowly, but bed rest was mandatory. Yoongi and Tamla had talked about homeschooling her again, an understandable decision, but one that hurt like hell. Just as Mai had started to make friends, to fit into the rhythm of school, she was being pulled away again, back into the isolation of her sickness. Y/N knew too well the weight of that loneliness, the way it sank its claws into you and refused to let go.

"Waiting on an angel," she muttered, a small, bitter smile tugging at her lips. Ben Harper’s voice floated on the air, stirring memories of better times. She and Hoseok had played Welcome to the Cruel World on repeat during their road trip to Seattle the summer before college. Neither of them could sing worth a damn, but that hadn’t stopped them from howling the lyrics into the wind, their voices loud and carefree. Those nights in the backseat of his car, sticky with sweat, laughing until they couldn’t breathe—they’d been kids then, untouched by the world’s cruelty. Now, those memories felt like a distant dream, something warm and fleeting she could barely hold on to.

She glanced back at the water, still and clear under the glow of the moon. Her leg swung lazily, disturbing the surface, ripples spreading outward. The faint scent of chlorine lingered in the air, familiar and comforting, reminding her of days when swimming had been her escape. When she could push her body to the limit and forget everything else. Leaning back on her hands, Y/N let the music wash over her, a gentle lullaby that softened the edges of her thoughts.

“So speak kind to a stranger,” the lyrics hummed. “‘Cause you’ll never know, it just might be an angel come.”

Her voice cracked as she sang along, swaying slightly with the rhythm, lost in the memory of a time when things felt simpler. She thought back to her swim meet at College Park. Hoseok had driven up with her parents to watch her compete, and she had led her team to victory. The crowd had exploded into cheers, feet stomping in the bleachers as her teammates surrounded her, pulling her into a tight huddle. She had cried that day, tears of disbelief streaming down her face as laughter bubbled up uncontrollably.

Declan had been there too, his eyes meeting hers for just a moment—a quiet connection that needed no words—before he made room for her in the circle. Jessica and Dinah had cried too, and Shay had tried to give a speech, though no one really listened. But it was Declan’s steady presence beside her that had grounded her in that moment. For those few minutes, she felt invincible, like nothing could touch them.

Coach Guy had patted her on the back, pride beaming from him, but it had all shattered when Declan’s mother had rushed in, her voice a high-pitched note of praise. “You did so well, Marie!” she’d said, oblivious to the way Declan had flinched, his mask of a smile slipping just for a second. 

It had been before Declan had come out to his parents. Y/N had seen that flicker of pain in his eyes, the one he worked so hard to hide. She’d wanted to say something, but before she could, Hoseok had found her, his arms wrapping around her in that way only he could, holding her together. "You were like a bullet out there, Nemo!" he’d laughed, ruffling her hair.

She hadn’t responded, just pressed closer to him, letting his warmth melt away her anxiety. Hoseok always knew how to make her feel like she was the center of the universe, like nothing else mattered. Later, on the bus ride home, they’d shared a pair of headphones, letting Ben Harper lull them into sleep as the stars blinked into the night sky.

Hoseok had loved watching her swim, even though he was terrified of the water. He’d show up to practice with his bright yellow life jacket and a pool noodle, looking ridiculous but acting like he wasn’t scared at all. It had made her laugh every time.

“Stop laughing,” he’d whined, crossing his arms in mock indignation.

“You just look so cute, Hoseok.”

“I’m taking this off,” he’d muttered, pouting as he stormed off to toss his life jacket into the supply closet by the pool.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open. The supply closet.

Her heart began to race as the memory resurfaced, clear as day. That closet hadn’t been touched in years, forgotten when the school built new locker rooms for the team. She hadn’t thought about it since then, but now she could picture it—dust settling on everything inside, relics of a time she had left behind.

There was no way… but she had to know.

Y/N dried off her stump, balancing the familiar weight of anxiety and nostalgia, and made her way toward the old supply closet. If anything of Hoseok’s was still in there, it would be like finding a piece of him again, something tangible to hold onto amidst the drifting memories. She pushed the creaky door open, the sound echoing through the stillness like a ghostly whisper.

Inside, darkness swallowed her. Dust motes danced in the faint shaft of light as she scanned the room. A few old backpacks lay scattered, relics of a forgotten past. Declan’s checkered bag caught her eye—the one from sophomore year that he swore had vanished into the abyss of forgotten things. Next to it, a fanny pack stood out. Taehyung’s ridiculous obsession with those had always been a source of mockery among them, but they had stopped seeing them around the time Mandy entered his life.

"Those dirty rats," she muttered to herself with a smirk, pulling out her phone to snap a quick picture of the two bags. She hit send.

Declan answered on the third ring, his voice deeper than she remembered. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Y/N said, crouching down to sift through more of the mess. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much. Dean and I grabbed drinks earlier,” Declan replied, amusement creeping into his tone.

She chuckled. “You and the brother-in-law bonding over beard growth again?”

“Oh, don’t ask. It’s weird,” he laughed.

“How’s Pam? My best friend-in-law holding up?”

“She’s good. Work’s been keeping her busy.” Then, suddenly, Declan burst out laughing. “Holy shit, that bag’s still in there?”

“Yeah, man,” Y/N grinned, the absurdity of it all sinking in. “Right next to a fanny pack. Any guesses whose?”

Declan groaned. “How did those even end up in there?”

“Coach was terrible about locking up,” she said, laughter bubbling up, a welcome release from the tension that had been twisting inside her. The years had slipped by too quickly. Ever since Declan moved to Maine, they hadn’t kept in touch like they used to, and Y/N found herself missing the simplicity of those days.

"How are things with Tae and Mandy?" Declan asked, his tone turning more serious. He didn’t need to say more; they both knew the endless drama that followed that pair.

Y/N sighed. “Tae’s trying to move on, and Mandy… well, she’s not too happy about it.”

“Sounds like the same old song and dance.”

“It is,” Y/N admitted, but there was a weight to her voice. “Except this time feels different. Tae went out with someone else. You remember Willow Hart?”

“No fucking way.”

“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s weird. But she’s different now, or at least, she seems like it.”

Declan laughed, disbelief lacing his tone. “I’ve heard that before. At least it’s progress. I’m so done hearing about their back-and-forth.”

“Yeah, me too,” Y/N said softly. “Tae and I haven’t talked in a while. I miss him. Miss Mandy too.”

A beat of silence passed between them, the weight of all the years and miles between them settling in.

“Erica called the other day,” Declan said, his voice lighter now. “Spilled all the gossip on you.”

Y/N groaned. Leave it to Erica to exaggerate everything. She and Jin had only had dinner together, maybe a hug goodnight, but nothing more. Yet, in a town like theirs, expectations loomed large over everything.

“It was just dinner,” Y/N protested, rolling her eyes.

“‘Just dinner,’ huh? After how many years of being single?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“Liar.”

She sighed, digging deeper into the closet, hoping to find Hoseok’s life vest. Maybe it would offer her some comfort, something to anchor her in the pool. But the bigger question gnawed at her: What would Hoseok think of Jin? Would he approve? She had no answers, just an echo of her own uncertainties bouncing back at her.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Dee,” she admitted, the heaviness in her chest pressing down harder. “I like him, but I feel guilty. What about Hoseok? How can I just move on?”

Declan’s sigh came through the line, a sound both soothing and understanding. He always knew how to be the rock she needed. 

“What about him?” Declan asked gently, but his tone had a mischievous edge to it that threw her off.

“What? You think I should just forget about him? My whole life has revolved around Hoseok. How am I supposed to be okay with dating someone else?”

“Would Hoseok want you to waste your life away?” Declan’s question was a blunt one, but it hit her square in the chest.

Y/N went quiet, her throat tightening. Declan knew how to cut through the noise in her head.

“Alright, then,” Declan continued, “would Hoseok like this new guy?”

“Yes,” Y/N answered quickly, without hesitation. Jin was the kind of person Hoseok would have welcomed into their circle with open arms.

“Would he want you to be happy?”

“Of course,” she whispered, the weight of that truth sinking in.

It was never about what Hoseok would want—she knew, deep down, that he’d want her to move on, to be happy. But it was her own guilt, her own fear that held her back, like chains she couldn’t break. Jin was different. He was warm, understanding, and made her feel something she hadn’t felt in years. But even though Hoseok was gone, his presence still lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

“Go out and have fun, okay?” Declan’s voice broke the silence, light and teasing. “You deserve it.”

“I’ll try,” Y/N promised, though her heart was still tangled in knots.

“I’ve gotta go. Whit’s home, and she looks stressed.”

“Alright, Dee. Talk soon.”

“Love you, Nemo.”

“Love you too, Crush,” she replied, her voice soft as she hung up, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.

And then, there it was. The bright yellow life jacket, tucked away in the corner of the closet, dusty but unmistakable. Hoseok’s. The red buckles had faded to a dull navy, but it was still his. A pool noodle lay beside it, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. How fitting it was to find this now, in the midst of all her uncertainty. Maybe it was time to face the water again, to let herself float. 

She snapped the life jacket on, the fabric snug and comforting, and grabbed the pool noodle before heading back to the water. Hoseok would’ve laughed seeing her in this getup, after all the teasing she’d dished out about his fear of swimming.

Y/N slipped off her prosthetic leg, letting it clatter softly to the side as she eased herself into the cool embrace of the pool. The water slid up her skin like an old friend, familiar yet distant, a mix of comfort and tension that churned in her gut. She gripped the pool’s edge, the chill seeping into her bones, and a laugh bubbled up unbidden. Absurd. She was really doing it—back in the water after all this time.

Kicking her legs gently, she fought the strange sensation of imbalance. The water swirled around her in rhythmic waves, each pull and push a reminder of how far she’d drifted from the girl who used to own these waters. Fatigue hit sooner than she expected, muscles burning in ways running never triggered. She had forgotten how swimming woke up parts of her that had been dormant for years, and now every breath felt heavy, each stroke dragging her further into a whirlpool of memories.

Her hands clung to the pool noodle, frustration rising with every kick. The weight of her past bore down on her, relentless. The girl who once glided effortlessly through the water felt like a ghost, unreachable. 

"Come on, Nemo!" Hoseok’s voice drifted through her mind, clear as day, full of that same teasing encouragement he always had.

“What?” Y/N gasped, breathless, pushing her goggles up onto her forehead.

"You were two seconds late, as usual," he said, that playful tone making it sound like no big deal. But it was to her. It always had been.

“Fuck,” she muttered, forcing the goggles back down, diving beneath the surface. But everything felt wrong. Heavier. Slower. If only he could see her now. Would he still tease? Would he still be proud?

Panic rose in her chest, swirling with the water around her. She kicked harder, trying to shake the frustration. What had she been thinking, coming back here? What did she hope to find?

"Why are you so upset?" Hoseok’s voice again, soft, like it always was when he was trying to calm her down.

Tears welled in her eyes, stinging as they mixed with the chlorine. She clung to the memory of him, wrapping herself in the familiar safety of his sweatshirt, the way he used to hold her. "I lost," she whispered, the confession ripping out of her like a wave crashing against the shore.

"We all lose sometimes," he’d told her once, stroking her hair like it would make everything better.

"Not me," she had whispered, her voice trembling. "I’ve never been a loser."

"You still aren’t," he had said, his words a lifeline pulling her back from the edge. "You’re still the coolest person in the world, Y/N."

The memory anchored her, and she kicked again, trying to find that rhythm she used to own. But everything felt unbalanced, her left side foreign, like a piece of herself had gone missing. She adjusted, shifting her body, trying different strokes, but nothing felt right. 

But something inside her stirred, something old and familiar—determination. She wasn’t finished yet. She wouldn’t leave until she figured this out, until she reclaimed that part of herself that she thought was lost.

With a sudden burst of energy, Y/N kicked harder, pushing her stub out of the water higher than she thought possible. It was awkward, sure, but it worked. She could feel it—the water moving around her, finally working with her. She kicked again, harder this time, each movement more confident, and for the first time in years, she felt herself gliding forward, cutting through the water with purpose.

"Y/N?" Dr. Jung’s voice shattered the fragile peace, pulling her back to reality. The front door to her house creaked open, and Dr. Jung stepped out in her robe, eyes wide, concern etched into her face.

Y/N sat slumped on the front step, barely upright, the fog of twenty Xanax dulling everything around her. How she’d ended up here, at Dr. Jung’s house, was a mystery even to her. The haze of her own making had swallowed her whole.

"Oh, honey," Dr. Jung’s voice was thick with pain as she knelt beside her, placing a warm hand on Y/N’s shoulder. But the touch felt distant, like she was miles away. 

“It’s cold out. I’ll call Victor to pick you up,” Dr. Jung said softly, the concern in her voice palpable.

"No," Y/N slurred, her words dragging through the fog like dead weight.

"Come inside, then," Dr. Jung urged, her voice firm but gentle.

Y/N looked up at her, eyes glassy, and before she could stop herself, the question escaped her lips. "Why can’t I be happy?"

"Hoseok would hate to see you like this," Dr. Jung murmured, cupping Y/N’s face, forcing her to meet her eyes. "He would want you to be happy. Your happiness meant more to him than anything. It means more to all of us."

The truth twisted deep inside Y/N, cutting her like a knife. Hoseok had always wanted her to be happy. So why couldn’t she let herself be?

With a burst of desperation, Y/N kicked herself to the edge of the pool, a scream tearing from her throat as she hauled herself out onto the cold tiles. She collapsed, breath ragged, tears streaming down her face.

"I did it," she whispered, her voice raw. "Hobi, I fucking did it."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N could almost hear his laughter, see the pride in his eyes. He would have been there beside her, holding her close, telling her how strong she was.

"Your happiness meant more to him than anything."

A small flicker of hope sparked inside her, the tiniest flame, but enough to keep her going. For the first time in ages, Y/N felt something new—excitement. For Friday. For whatever was next.

Y/N slid the liner on, then the second liner—a ritual she had come to despise but had perfected out of necessity. The layers helped keep her prosthetic socket from shifting, but today, it felt like torture. The dry skin and scabs that dotted her stump were tiny landmines, each brush of fabric from her dress igniting fresh pain. She’d planned to roll out in her chair tonight, to give her leg more time to heal, but the ache in her heart outweighed the physical pain. She forced herself into the prosthetic, driven by the insecurities that whispered louder than any sense of reason. What would people think of Jin if he was seen with her? The question haunted her.

Standing before the mirror, she surveyed her reflection, searching for some spark of confidence. Her hair was slightly more styled than usual, and the makeup she’d applied was heavier than her everyday look, but the effort showed. She looked... pretty. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips as she took in the white shirt dress she’d dug out of her closet—a relic from before the accident, before everything had changed. It was a dress she had once planned to wear when visiting Hoseok’s parents, simple yet elegant, falling just below her knee. The fabric still held its charm, and she felt a flicker of satisfaction. 

Her leg throbbed with the reminder of her choice, but at least she had a reason to wear heeled boots—something she hadn’t done in what felt like forever. She rummaged through her closet, the sight of each pair of shoes tugging her back to who she used to be. Before the accident, she had been the girl who never left the house without looking polished. Heels had been her armor, a way to feel whole in a world that often felt too jagged and unforgiving. Now, as she slipped on a pair of nude heeled boots that fit her prosthetic, she felt a faint flicker of that old fire reignite.

Her phone chimed, interrupting her thoughts. It was the group chat with Tamla, Amanda, and Erica.

Tami: Have fun! Mai’s okay.  

Y/N: I will.  

Erica: Yeah, Dr. Kim’s yummy.  

Y/N laughed at Erica’s typical over-the-top enthusiasm, a flood of emojis accompanying her message. Even on a Friday night, working as an RN in the urology department, Erica always found time to keep the conversation alive. It was one of the things Y/N loved about her—Erica was always the first to check in, always laughing, always bringing Tamla coffee on their days off. Y/N wished they could meet up more often.

Tami: I second that.  

Y/N: How do I look?  

Y/N sent a quick photo—a simple mirror shot, her legs crossed, a slight angle to her hip. She didn’t smile in pictures anymore; it felt like a betrayal of the reality she lived. She knew Erica would gush over it, but she hadn’t expected much from Mandy, who had been quiet since Mai’s hospitalization. Tamla’s usual energy was muted, too, with Mai still recovering.

Tami: You look cute. Love the jacket.  

Erica: Sexy. Get laid, bitch!  

Tami: Erica!  

Y/N: I’m muting the chat.  

Erica: I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything ;)  

Tami: Also muting. D-I-S-G-U-S-T-I-N-G!

Heat flooded Y/N’s cheeks as she read the messages. It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone. Hoseok had been her last, and after him, she hadn’t felt the urge. Her disability made the idea of intimacy feel daunting. Even being naked with herself was hard enough; the thought of being vulnerable with someone like Jin, with his perfect looks and easy confidence, was overwhelming. Yet there was something about him, a safety he exuded, that made her entertain the thought, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Her phone buzzed again, breaking through her reverie.

Dr. Kim: I’m outside :)  

Y/N: Coming!

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gave herself one last look in the mirror. She looked good. She felt good. She was about to go on a date with Jin Kim—a kind, handsome doctor who wanted to spend time with her. For the first time in a long while, Y/N allowed herself to smile, the tension in her chest easing slightly as she whispered a quiet word of encouragement to her reflection. She locked up her house, stepped outside, and slid into Jin’s pristine white Lexus, a mixture of excitement and trepidation bubbling up as she embraced whatever the night had in store.

Jin loved jazz. The soft strains of Eartha Kitt and Etta James filled the car, weaving through the quiet like a soothing balm, each note a gentle reminder of the shared moment between them. Y/N watched as Jin’s fingers fidgeted in his lap, betraying the nervous energy simmering just beneath his calm surface. She remembered how he’d been when they first met, that same anxious buzz radiating from him. She wanted to reach out, to close the gap between them, but the distance felt too vast, an unbridgeable chasm. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Jin looked stunning tonight, effortlessly handsome in a way that made Y/N’s heart flutter. Just being out with someone as gorgeous as him was enough to send a thrill through her, even if the night ended with nothing more than a deepening of their friendship. His hair was slicked back, every strand perfectly in place, and the scent of cedarwood clung to the air between them, warm and comforting. Dressed in all black, his shirt hugged his chest, revealing a physique more toned than Y/N had expected. She tried to tear her gaze away from the tantalizing hint of skin peeking through the unbuttoned top of his shirt.

"You look nice, by the way," Jin said, his voice a low hum that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

"So do you," she replied, turning her gaze to the window to hide her blush. For a brief moment, she felt like a teenager again, caught up in the excitement of it all.

“So,” Jin started, his voice suddenly bright with enthusiasm, “I looked around Esther and picked a place I thought seemed the most interesting.”

“Let me guess—Fuego Dragon?” Y/N asked, teasingly.

“No, actually,” Jin laughed, a deep, rich sound that made Y/N’s heart skip. “That place looked like bad news.”

“You’d feel like you were dying before we even got home,” she quipped, amused by the brief look of disgust that flickered across his face. “One time, Taehyung—”

“I can already imagine,” Jin interrupted with a dismissive wave, still laughing. “We’re going to a café instead.”

“Ross’or Rising Shine?” Y/N guessed.

“First one.”

“Good choice,” she smiled, meeting his eyes briefly, feeling the spark of excitement build between them. “The food’s better there.”

Like their first outing, Jin was the perfect gentleman. They ordered coffee and pastries and found a table near the large windows at the back of the café. The evening was calm, warm, and comforting in a way that felt natural and easy. Jin had wanted to wait by the counter, but when he spotted an old friend working the register, he took the opportunity to step away from the weight of his usual responsibilities, if only for a few minutes.

“So, how do you know him?” Jin asked, running a hand through his hair—a nervous habit Y/N had noticed more often now.

“Jackson?” Y/N nodded. “We went to college together.”

“What college did you attend?” His eyes lit up with genuine curiosity, eager to learn more about her.

It struck Y/N then how little they truly knew about each other, and the realization gnawed at her. She didn’t want to seem pushy, but her interest in Jin had blossomed into something more than just casual curiosity.

“Edith University. It’s just a couple of blocks from here. Jackson’s been working at this café since junior year.”

“When did you graduate?”

“Last year,” Y/N replied, catching sight of Jackson’s girlfriend, Chloe, across the room. She waved at her. “The accident was during my senior year. I was 21, and after that… well, you know the rest. Hoseok’s dad is the principal at the high school, and they needed a coach for the swim team. So, I got my instructional certification and retook all my CPR classes.”

“What’s your degree in?” Jin leaned forward, resting his head on his hand, his attention fully on her.

“Athletic training. I started off in sports medicine, had a full ride on the swim team. But after the accident, hospitals and doctor’s offices started to make me uncomfortable, so I changed paths and finished with the credits I could salvage.”

“Understandable,” Jin smiled. “I was studying biomedical engineering, pre-med at Loyola, before heading to Harvard for med school.”

Before Y/N could reply, Jackson approached their table with a broad smile. “Y/N! You look great. It’s nice to see you. You don’t come out to Esther much anymore.”

Y/N blushed, suddenly feeling bashful. “I’m around, mostly for doctor’s appointments. I just don’t stop anywhere else.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger,” Jackson teased, winking playfully. “You know I’m always in need of rescue.”

Y/N laughed, feeling the tension in her chest ease. “I’ll stop by more often, I promise.”

As Jackson returned to Chloe, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief. The night felt easier now, lighter. Jin smiled at her, his warm gaze meeting hers across the table, and Y/N allowed herself to relax fully into the moment.

Y/N realized with a sudden jolt that she’d never called Jackson. The thought hit her like a flash of lightning across a clear sky, sharp and unavoidable. Guilt gnawed at her, a creeping reminder of all the times he had reached out after Hoseok’s passing, only to be met with silence. Jackson had always been there, a constant presence checking in when she shut herself away, but she’d never made the effort to return the favor. Maybe it was time to change that. She promised herself she’d call him later, perhaps suggest a jog or, even better, a swim. He’d be thrilled to hear about her recent breakthrough in the pool—she hadn’t told anyone yet, and Jackson would be the first to understand.

“He’s nice,” Jin’s voice cut through her swirling thoughts, his tone soft but certain.

“Yeah, Jack’s cool,” Y/N replied, keeping her voice steady as she finished the last bite of her pastry.

They lingered over their coffee, the conversation flowing easily. Jin shared stories about his younger brother, Jihyun, who was studying political science. His family, a mix of working-class grit and unexpected luxury, sounded almost too distant from the world Y/N knew. His mother owned a restaurant on the Las Vegas Strip, and his father dealt cards in a high-end casino, enabling them to live a life without financial worries. Jin had grown up in a sprawling mansion, a place that always felt too large for just four people, and his father had recently spent an absurd amount of money turning their backyard into a tropical oasis, complete with a waterfall. 

It felt so far removed from Y/N’s reality, yet she found herself laughing at his stories, charmed by the way Jin painted his childhood with humor and self-awareness. There was something about him—something easy, disarming—that made her forget, even for a moment, the weight of everything she carried.

“So now you’re terrified of clowns?” Y/N teased as she slipped her jacket back on.

“When they pie you in front of your crush—one thousand percent,” Jin responded, the light in his eyes catching hers.

Y/N smiled, but the familiar burn in her leg flared up as she shifted her weight. She had pushed herself too far tonight, but she wasn’t ready to admit that. Not yet. The last thing she wanted was for Jin to notice. She wanted to savor this moment with him, without the reminder of her condition pulling her back into reality. Even though he had told her that her wheelchair wouldn’t bother him, tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight, she just wanted to feel normal, even if only for a little while.

“Are you okay?” Jin’s voice broke through her thoughts, concern softening his features as his hand grazed her arm.

The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, grounding her momentarily. She forced a smile, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, her voice calm despite the throbbing pain in her leg.

“You’re limping,” Jin observed, his brows knitting together.

Y/N cursed herself inwardly. Of course, he’d noticed. There was no hiding it. “Oh, yeah,” she tried to shrug it off. “I’m just a bit tired.”

Jin didn’t look convinced, and for a second, it seemed like he was going to press her. But instead, he let it go. Y/N knew he didn’t believe her, but he gave her the space to pretend, to hold on to her pride. She appreciated that more than he could know.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice gentle but laced with concern.

Y/N’s friends would’ve grilled her by now, insisting she sit down or take a break. But Jin hesitated, choosing not to push her. It was one of the things she liked about him—he knew when to let things be.

“Yeah,” she replied, the lie slipping out easily. “I’m usually asleep by now.”

Jin smiled again, that dazzling smile that seemed to light up his whole face, and Y/N felt a pang in her chest. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the act, but she wasn’t ready to break the illusion just yet.

“How about a walk by the Loch?” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Sure, that sounds nice,” Y/N lied once more, knowing full well the cooler air near the water would only make her discomfort worse. But the thought of walking with him, of sharing that quiet moment, was enough to push her through the pain.

The walk was brief. Ross’or wasn’t far from the dock, but Y/N knew a shortcut through the woods, a hidden path that led to one of the most beautiful parts of Loch Keen. The marshy edges and still waters had a quiet charm, framed by the towering trees that cradled the shoreline. In the summer, the place would come alive with fireflies, turning the night into a scene from a dream. But even now, with the air crisp and the sky dark, the place felt magical, intimate in a way that made Y/N feel safe walking beside Jin.

As they strolled, Y/N tried to focus on the warmth of his presence, the sound of his voice, rather than the growing ache in her leg. She didn’t want her disability to define this moment, didn’t want it to steal away the simplicity of their evening. For once, she just wanted to feel like she was in control.

The water lay calm that night, the rhythmic chirping of crickets filling the air in a way that Tamla always despised but Y/N found soothing. It was a melody, familiar, a reminder of summer nights spent outdoors, where the darkness wrapped around everything like a comforting blanket. She remembered how Taehyung had once been sprayed by a skunk during high school, and the image of his horrified face brought a fleeting smile to her lips. Stealing a glance at Jin, she saw him standing by the water, calm and at ease, unaffected by the sounds of the night. It was a relief to lose herself in the moment, to forget the constant undercurrent of guilt and fear that clung to her whenever he was around.

Y/N liked him. She wanted to keep looking at him, to freeze this moment in time and never let it end.

“Can we get closer to the water?” Jin asked, his eyes still fixed on the Loch, as if drawn to the mystery of its dark, rippling surface.

“Yeah,” she replied, scanning for a bench, feeling a quiet thrill at the thought of being nearer to him. When she spotted one, she pointed. “There’s something over there,” she said, and relief flooded through her as they moved toward it.

The world around them never really stopped. The water seemed still, but now and then, a fish would leap, shattering the surface with a quick, sharp splash, reminding her that life was always in motion. The frogs’ croaks ebbed and flowed in the background, joining the symphony of crickets and owls, filling the night with sound. Jin stood beside her, his eyes drinking in the view, and she let herself get lost in it too.

The moonlight danced on the water, casting shimmering silver trails across the Loch’s surface, giving it a breath of its own. The Loch was alive, and Y/N could feel its heartbeat beneath the gentle waves, stirring up memories of summers long past. She could almost hear the echoes of laughter carried by the wind, laughter that belonged to her, Hoseok, Mandy, and Taehyung. Those nights had felt endless, with nothing ahead of them but possibility. She remembered swinging from the old rope swing that Declan had tied to the tallest tree, their shouts mingling with the cries of the birds overhead.

“Kiss me,” Hoseok had whined, clinging to her like a shipwrecked sailor holding onto driftwood.

“Let me go,” she had laughed, half-heartedly pushing him away, but neither of them really wanted to break apart.

“Kiss me first,” he’d teased, leaning in and nipping playfully at her ear.

“Hoseok!” she’d squealed, her shoulder rising defensively as she squirmed in his arms, both of them caught up in the warmth of the moment.

His laughter had been rich, a sound she could still hear if she closed her eyes. Their eyes had met then, a moment suspended in time. “Come here,” she had sighed, pretending to be exasperated. “I’ll give you a kiss, you big baby.”

The memory brought a bittersweet smile to her lips, like tasting wine that had long since soured. She would give anything to go back to their senior year, to a time when she and Hoseok were untouchable. Before the fights, before the silence, before he’d vanished from her life, leaving behind a void so deep, she wasn’t sure she’d ever crawl out of it. The weight of grief settled over her like a lead blanket, cold and heavy. No one would find me until Monday.

That thought slithered through her mind, chilling her to the bone, a whisper of the darkness she still battled. She knew she should see her therapist again, find a way to claw her way back to something resembling normalcy. But the idea of facing people, of hearing their whispers and feeling their pitying stares, twisted her stomach into knots. Loch Keen, once a place of freedom, felt more like a cage now. The water that had once been her refuge felt like a prison. 

But then she turned, catching Jin’s gaze, and in that instant, she realized how wrong she had been. She didn’t hate the water. She missed it—missed it with every aching fiber of her being. The Loch held her past, her most cherished memories, and now, it held something else—Jin. He was becoming her favorite part of the present.

“I was in a frat during undergrad,” Jin said suddenly, breaking the silence that hung between them.

“Yeah?” Y/N smiled, intrigued. “I’ve been to a few frat parties in my day. Which one?”

“Beta Tau Sigma,” he said, his gaze drifting back to the shimmering water. “That’s when my drinking got out of hand.”

“In the frat?” Her voice lowered, barely more than a whisper, as the weight of his confession settled in the cool night air.

“Yeah. It’s like an unspoken rule—drinking and partying like there’s no tomorrow. My dad was in the same frat, back in his day. Loyola and Harvard—his alma maters, and mine. It was either med school or law school for me. He’s a lawyer, so I chose medicine, but honestly... I didn’t really have a choice.”

“You didn’t want to be a doctor?” she asked, edging closer, sensing the depth of what he was revealing.

“No. Everything in my life was planned for me. My parents are first-generation immigrants, and they wanted to give me and my brother the life they didn’t have. I understand that, but... it backfired. I was sheltered, clueless when I got to campus.” He paused, his voice tightening. “My dad and I had a huge fight when I told him I wanted to switch to graphic design. He disowned me, told me I was throwing my life away. So, I rebelled. Drinking, smoking, partying—anything to feel like I had control. But I kept my grades up, for my mom’s sake. Those last two years... they’re a blur of booze and drugs.”

“When did you quit?” Her voice was small, hesitant, afraid to disturb the rawness of the moment.

“A year after I graduated. I was applying to med schools, but I was a mess. My dad found me in my apartment one night, completely wrecked. He got me into rehab. Six months later, I was sober, barely hanging on, but I got into Harvard Med. Been clean since.”

Silence fell between them again, the once soothing sound of the water now thick and suffocating. Y/N wanted to reach out, to tell him something that would make the weight of his confession easier to bear, but she feared breaking the delicate connection between them. Jin had opened a door, and Y/N wasn’t sure what lay behind it.

“Are you and your family okay now?” she asked softly, her voice barely louder than the night itself.

“Yeah, we’re better.”

“And... are you okay now?”

Y/N turned to him, her heart racing. Jin didn’t meet her eyes right away, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. She hesitated, unsure if she should reach out, unsure if he needed her to. But something in the air, something in the space between them, urged her forward.

She placed her hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. He looked up at her, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she said softly, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “I get it. My parents and I... we don’t talk. I know it’s hard.”

Before she could pull her hand away, Jin’s grip tightened, holding her in place. He leaned in closer, drawing her toward him.

“I’ve never been better,” he whispered, his voice low, and then, in a heartbeat, he kissed her.

His lips were chapped from the cold, and Y/N tasted the lingering bitterness of coffee mixed with something deeper, something that hummed through her like electricity. It was perfect. His mouth moved with a quiet insistence, a careful, deliberate rhythm that pulled her in, his tongue teasing the edge of her lips like a secret invitation. She gave in, melting into the kiss, and suddenly the world around her shifted. Loch Keen, with all its eerie beauty, seemed to disappear, swallowed by the warmth of his breath and the heat rising between them. Nothing mattered anymore—not the water, not the chill in the air. Only Jin.

She wanted him. She wanted this.

“Take this off,” Jin murmured when they finally pulled apart, his fingers tracing the edge of her prosthetic with the kind of gentleness that almost broke her.

“No,” she whispered, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to the moment. If she let go, she feared it might all vanish, just another fleeting dream.

“But you’re in pain,” he said softly, his voice threaded with concern, his gaze searching hers.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice small, raw. “Just kiss me. Just a little longer.”

Jin didn’t hesitate. “Okay,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers again, sealing her in the warmth of him. His breath mingled with hers, and the world around them faded, the trees, the water, the night itself melting into shadows. Nothing else existed. Only his hands, his lips, his steady heartbeat against hers, and in that moment, she felt herself drift into a space where time didn’t matter, where the weight of the past couldn’t touch her, and the future was a faraway thing.

Just him. Just now. Just this.

Y/N took a deep breath, the kind that filled her lungs but never quite reached her gut, and turned toward Jin. He stood outside the school, a beacon of warmth and familiarity amidst the storm brewing in her chest. His offer to pick her up, to drive her to work, should have eased the tension inside her, but instead, it twisted deeper. Anxiety gnawed at her like a persistent rat, especially after Jungkook’s careless comment at practice.

“Mrs. Jeon saw you two in Edith!” he’d laughed, and Y/N had felt the dread settle in. Gossip was already swirling, carried on the wind like dead leaves in the fall. The Jeons were notorious for sticking their noses where they didn’t belong, and Jungkook had a way of letting things slip that should’ve stayed hidden.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to her trembling hands.

Jin sighed softly, his warm hand slipping over hers, anchoring her. She squeezed his thumb tightly, holding on to the comfort he offered, his skin a balm to the storm within her.

“Me too,” he confessed, though his voice was calm, steady. “But I’d rather show you off than run away.”

“Show me off?” She raised an eyebrow, unable to hide the skepticism in her voice.

“Really,” he said, conviction in his tone. His certainty brought a reluctant smile to her lips, and for a moment, the knot in her chest loosened.

“You’re not embarrassed about what people are saying?” she asked, though part of her already knew the answer.

“Absolutely not,” Jin said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d give you a lap dance in the 7-Eleven if it’d make them stop talking. But they’ll gossip whether I shake my ass or buy you a taquito.”

The image of Jin—her Jin—twerking in a gas station flashed in her mind, and she burst out laughing. He had the hips for it, sure, but the thought of him dancing like that was absurd and hilarious.

“That’s like a scene from Magic Mike,” she gasped, still laughing.

A mischievous grin spread across Jin’s face. “How much for the Cheetos and water?” he asked, playing along.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You watched XXL?”

“I’ve seen the first one too,” he said with a smirk.

They laughed together, their voices mingling with the cool evening air. And just like that, her nerves began to fade. Jin was right—why should she care what people thought when they were both clearly enjoying each other’s company? Why let the town’s whispers drown out the simple joy of sharing silly moments?

But before the laughter could die down completely, a sharp knock on the car window startled them both. They turned to see Yoongi, doubled over, laughing so hard he could barely stand. Y/N opened the door and swatted at his leg, pretending to be mad.

“You scared the hell out of me, you jerk!”

Yoongi’s laughter echoed through the parking lot as Y/N stormed off, but she could still hear him laughing behind her as she walked away. Jin caught up to her, bumping her shoulder playfully. She nudged him back, a grin spreading across her face, the warmth between them undeniable.

“Y/N!”

The shout sliced through the evening air, and she turned to see Taehyung sprinting toward them, urgency in every step. Her heart sank at the sight of his expression—something was wrong. She left Jin’s side and moved quickly toward Taehyung, anxiety knotting her stomach.

“I’ll see you inside,” she called over her shoulder to Jin, her pace quickening.

“Wait up!” Taehyung grabbed her wrist, pulling her into a quieter corner, his voice low but tight with tension.

Something was wrong. Y/N could feel it in the way the air seemed to thicken around them. These conversations only happened when a storm was brewing—either Amanda was in trouble, or Taehyung was struggling again. His usual calm was gone, replaced with a jittery anxiety that made her pulse race.

“Promise me you’ll keep this between us,” he said, his voice serious, his eyes scanning their surroundings as if someone might be listening.

“Promise,” she replied, though unease settled deep in her bones.

He stopped pacing, extending his pinky toward her. She linked hers with his, the gesture a silent oath, but it sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“Declan said you talked yesterday,” Taehyung began, his voice strained.

“Yeah, I called him. I was at the pool, found his old backpack, and we ended up chatting.”

“Yeah, well... he called me this morning. Said you mentioned missing me.”

“Tae, what’s going on?” Y/N asked, cutting through the small talk, her anxiety clawing its way to the surface.

Taehyung, usually so steady, looked shaken. “Amanda’s missing.”

“What?” The word hit her like a blow to the gut. Amanda? Gone? It didn’t make sense. Amanda didn’t just vanish. That was more like something Taehyung would do. She started pacing now, her heart hammering in her chest, dread creeping up her spine.

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

“She relapsed last week.”

“Last week?” Y/N’s voice rose in disbelief, anger flaring inside her. “And you’re just now telling me?”

“She swore she’d kill herself if I told anyone!” Taehyung’s voice cracked, heavy with guilt. “You know how she gets when she’s using, Y/N. I couldn’t risk it.”

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down even as a storm of emotions churned within her. He was right. Amanda would do anything to keep her secrets buried deep, and Y/N knew all too well the lengths she’d go to protect herself. She nodded, trying to swallow the rising panic.

“I get it,” she whispered, rubbing her temples, feeling the weight of Taehyung’s confession settle over her like a heavy blanket. Amanda’s struggles were now hers to bear, too.

"Why aren’t we telling anyone?" Y/N asked, her voice edged with a rising panic. The weight of the situation was tightening around her like a noose, squeezing the air from her chest.

"Because I want to bring her home safely," Taehyung replied, his voice tight but controlled, like he was barely holding himself together. "If Sherry finds out, she’ll call the cops, and Mandy’s been buying meth from Holt. I talked to all our guys—she’s been looking for spice."

Meth and spice. Both roads led straight to hell. The thought of Amanda caught in that downward spiral again made Y/N's stomach twist into knots. The idea of cops being involved only made it worse—cops brought questions, chaos, and judgment. They wouldn’t care about helping Amanda. They’d chew her up and spit her out, leaving her worse off than before. Taehyung knew that, and so did Y/N. Neither of them wanted to see Amanda destroyed by the same system that was supposed to help her.

"I’ll call some people," Y/N said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She stared at the ground, mind spinning as she tried to map out a plan. The weight of what they were doing pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she had to stay focused. Amanda needed them.

"Holt said she’s not far, but she’s definitely out of it," Taehyung added, his voice filled with a quiet desperation.

"What did she relapse on?" Y/N asked, though she already had a sinking feeling she knew.

"I found her drunk in my living room, crying," Taehyung said, his tone hollow, the words hanging between them like a death sentence.

Typical Amanda—reaching for the bottle when things got too heavy. Y/N’s heart ached for her, but she knew better than to let pity slow her down. She’d have to reach out to Fern, their dealer in Edith. Fern usually handled Adderall and crack, but she’d supplied spice to Mandy before. Gabriel might know something too, but Y/N dismissed that idea quickly—Taehyung wouldn’t want him involved.

"Where is she?" Taehyung’s voice cracked, raw and pleading. His usual calm was gone, replaced by a fear that gnawed at him from the inside out.

The love Taehyung still had for Amanda was painfully clear. Despite the growing distance, the arguments, and everything that had frayed their friendship over the years, it was still there—an unshakable bond that pulsed with every breath he took. Y/N could feel it in his voice, in the way he was barely keeping it together. Guilt clawed at her from the inside, sharp and relentless. She’d been so wrapped up in her own life, in her growing feelings for Jin, that she’d let her friendship with Taehyung slip. Their last real conversation felt like a distant memory, buried under months of neglect.

Without thinking, Y/N wrapped her arms around Taehyung, pulling him close. Her guilt bled into the embrace, her tears soaking into his shoulder as she whispered, "I’m sorry."

"It’s not your fault," Taehyung mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "We always put you in the middle."

"No," Y/N shook her head, holding him tighter. "I should’ve been there more."

"I’m sorry for ruining your night with McDreamy," Taehyung muttered, managing a weak smile through his tears.

"You never ruin my night, Tae," Y/N said, her voice filled with the weight of the truth.

They stood there, clinging to each other like they were the last two people left in the world. The missed phone calls, the distance that had grown between them—it all seemed to melt away. In that moment, Y/N realized just how much she had missed him, how much she had needed this connection. The guilt she’d carried for months slipped away, replaced by the warmth of their shared grief and love.

Then, with impeccable timing, Taehyung sneezed, sending a spray into her hair.

"Gross," Y/N groaned, pulling away slightly but not enough to let go.

"Sorry," Taehyung mumbled, looking sheepish as he wiped his face. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her chest loosening just a little. Crying always left her with a pounding headache, and she could already feel it building behind her eyes, but right now, she didn’t care.

Wait. The meeting.

The realization hit both of them at the same time. Without another word, they bolted for the door, cursing themselves as they ran. They burst into the room twenty minutes late, earning a sharp glare from Sherry that felt like a slap. Her reprimand stung, but after the initial bite, the meeting settled into its usual rhythm. Y/N sank into her seat next to Taehyung, the weight on her shoulders easing slightly.

For now, they were okay. The fragile truce of their friendship had been restored, and that was enough. Jin, ever observant, didn’t pry. He gave her the space she needed, the quiet understanding that she wasn’t ready to talk.

As the meeting droned on, Amanda’s absence hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog, pressing down on Y/N's chest. The urge to speak, to spill the worries swirling in her mind, gnawed at her insides like a trapped animal. But Jin, ever so gentle, steered the conversation toward lighter topics, his voice a welcome reprieve from the tension. His unexpected confession—his secret obsession with the Magic Mike movies—pulled a reluctant smile from her, a momentary break in the storm of her thoughts.

When the meeting finally ended, Jin promised to pick her up bright and early the next morning, leaving Y/N with a faint flicker of hope, a light in the darkness.

Jungkook was off today. There was no other way to describe it. The sharp precision that usually defined him, the fierce focus that made him a standout swimmer, had dulled into something sluggish and unfocused. Every stroke seemed half-hearted, his movements faltering like a flickering lightbulb on the verge of burning out. Y/N could feel it—the heaviness that clung to him like a fog, thick and suffocating, as though something had pulled him into a dark abyss. Her star swimmer was drifting, and if she didn’t do something soon, he would sink deeper into whatever had him trapped.

“Come on, Jeon! Pick it up!” Y/N’s voice sliced through the pool’s echoing silence like a whip. Normally, her sharp tone would ignite something in him, but today, it only seemed to make things worse. Her words fell into the water like stones, rippling out, but doing little to stir him from his sluggish state.

Oliver was floundering, worse than usual, and Jeremy Cohen—fast but sloppy—was tearing through the water with a form that would have made any swim coach cringe. It felt as if the entire team had been thrown off balance, each swimmer's mistakes building on the next, a disastrous symphony of chaos. Y/N clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to shout, to yank Jungkook out of the water and shake some sense into him. He wasn’t just off today—he was adrift, lost. And watching him like this was infuriating.

With a sharp blow of her whistle, Y/N called it. “Alright, we’re done. Get dressed and get out.” Her voice was hard, biting. “Jeon, I need to see you when you’re done. And the rest of you,” she shot a glare across the pool, “get your act together before Wednesday’s meet, or we’re doing a 400 IM.”

The team grumbled but moved to comply, the promise of a grueling Individual Medley enough to spur them into action.

A few minutes later, Jungkook shuffled into Y/N’s office, his shoulders slumped under the weight of whatever burden he was carrying. The office was a small space, smelling faintly of chlorine and memories. Photos of Y/N’s high school swim days dotted the walls, along with dusty trophies and sobriety coins that bore witness to the battles she’d fought and won. It was a refuge of sorts, a place of familiarity and comfort. But today, the tension inside the room was thick, almost suffocating.

Jungkook sat across from her, and Y/N took a moment to study him. He looked... lost. The cocky swagger, the confidence that usually radiated from him, was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was a shadow of himself, and it unsettled her in a way she hadn’t expected. She needed to get through to him, to figure out what was dragging him under.

“What’s going on, Jeon?” she asked, her tone softer than it had been poolside, hoping to coax him out of the dark place he’d retreated to.

“Just an off day, coach,” Jungkook mumbled, but there was something in his voice—something tight and fragile—that told her it was more than that.

“Want to talk about it?” Y/N offered, leaning forward slightly. She wasn’t just his coach—she cared about him. She wanted him to know that.

Jungkook hesitated, his gaze dropping to his lap. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “I didn’t get into San Diego.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Y/N felt the weight of them sink into her. San Diego. The University of California at San Diego had been Jungkook’s dream, the goal he had been chasing for as long as she could remember. It was legendary—the swim team, the prestige. She understood the sting of rejection all too well. Back when she’d applied to colleges, she had eyed the same school but had chosen Edith to stay close to Hoseok. She regretted that decision sometimes, but it had been hers to make. Jungkook, though—he had his heart set on San Diego.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said quietly, meeting his eyes. “I know how much you wanted that.”

Jungkook sniffled, his shoulders trembling slightly. “I don’t know what to do now,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “San Diego was all I ever wanted.”

Y/N took a deep breath, the weight of his disappointment settling over the room like a dark cloud. She couldn’t let him think this was the end. Jungkook was too good, too talented to let one rejection break him.

“Don’t say that,” she said firmly. “You applied to so many other schools. Stanford, Yale, Princeton. Rollins has a great program. Bentley State is solid, too. And the University of California’s main campus? Their swim team is even better than San Diego’s.”

Jungkook nodded, but the fight had drained out of him. He gathered his things slowly, his movements mechanical. Y/N watched him go, her chest tight with a mixture of frustration and concern. She hoped—prayed—that she had gotten through to him, that she had planted a small seed of hope. But as he walked out of her office, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t done enough.

As Y/N settled back into her chair, a ding from her phone interrupted her thoughts. 

Jin: Heard from Jungkook’s dad that he got a letter from UC?

Y/N: Yeah... bad news. 

Jin: Damn. Is he okay?

Y/N: Not at all. I think I made it worse. 

Jin: Doubt that. Just let him cool down and soak it all in. He should be getting more letters soon.  

Jin: He’s too talented not to.

Their small exchanges were always the highlight of her day, threads of connection amidst the chaos of their separate lives. Twice a day, sometimes more, they’d text each other. Seeing Jin during the week was nearly impossible, and after 70-hour shifts, he was often too drained to meet up on his rare days off. It had been two months since they’d spent more than thirty minutes together—neither one putting a label on their relationship. Not quite just friends, not officially dating, but Y/N was content with the slow burn.

Jin: I have three days off starting tonight.

Jin: And I’m not on call...  

A smile crept across her face at the sight of his message. He was just so damn cute.  

Jin: Dinner at my place? 

Y/N: Will there be strippers? 

Jin: I may or may not have a copy of Magic Mike.

She laughed aloud, but before she could type a response, another ping followed.  

Jin: I’ll get takeout.

Y/N: You had me at Big Dick Richie. 

Jin: But Mike has the magic.  

Y/N: “How much for the Cheetos and water?” 

Jin: ...Touché.

The weight of the day started to lift, replaced by the familiar warmth that Jin always managed to bring.

Later, Y/N sat at her small desk, the dim light barely fighting off the darkness that pooled in the corners of her office. The papers scattered in front of her—reports, updates, schedules—merged into an incomprehensible blur, the lines between numbers and words dissolving under her fatigue. The air conditioner droned on, a steady, hypnotic hum that only deepened the isolation settling around her. She sighed, pushing her hair back and rubbing her tired eyes, feeling the weight of the day sink in—heavy, unrelenting.

But tonight was different. There was a spark of something at the end of this long, grueling tunnel. A shiver of anticipation crawled through her veins, a welcome jolt that stirred her from the haze. She was going to see Jin after work. The thought of him lit her up, warming her from the inside out. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled with that boyish charm—it made her stomach flip, the kind of excitement that felt almost electric. For a fleeting moment, the exhaustion faded into the background, replaced by the thrill of their evening ahead.

And then, out of nowhere, a loud clang split the silence like a gunshot.

Y/N’s heart lurched, her body going rigid as the sound echoed through the office. It came from outside—near the pool. A place that should have been empty. Unease twisted its way up her spine like an icy finger tracing her nerves. Slowly, cautiously, she rose from her chair, listening for anything more. Nothing. Just the hum of the AC, eerily out of place now. 

Her hand hesitated on the doorknob. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but something about the air felt wrong. Thick, almost suffocating. As she stepped into the pool room, her eyes swept the dimly lit space, every shadow feeling alive, heavy with threat. 

At first, it seemed empty. But no—there, by the water's edge, stood a figure.

Amanda.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse kicking up a notch. Amanda was a wreck—hair matted and wild, clothes hanging loosely on her frame. She held a giant bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, her grip so tight Y/N thought she might shatter it. The other hand hovered over her stomach, where her shirt gaped open, revealing a gruesome landscape of cuts—deep, crisscrossing wounds that bled freely, soaking the fabric in dark patches of crimson. The scent of alcohol mixed with the metallic tang of blood in the air, thick and choking.

This wasn’t Amanda. Not the Amanda Y/N had known. This was something else, something broken and twisted. A shell, teetering on the edge of madness.

"You seem happy," Amanda slurred, her voice slicing through the stillness like a razor.

Y/N froze. Every instinct screamed at her to back away, to run. But she couldn’t. Not when Amanda was like this, bleeding and lost. The fear in her gut twisted tighter, but she forced herself to keep calm, to steady her voice. 

“Mandy... what are you doing here?” she asked, each word careful, measured. “We’ve been looking for you—me and Tae. We were worried.”

Relapses weren’t new, but Amanda had always been a wild card, unpredictable. Y/N remembered the last time she’d seen her like this—during that drug-fueled party, Amanda had gone ballistic, nearly taking Taehyung’s head off in a rage, while Yoongi had to physically hold her back from stabbing Namjoon. That memory flashed in her mind now, vivid and sharp, a horror reel playing on repeat.

Amanda’s gaze fixed on Y/N, her eyes vacant but her body tensed, like a coiled spring. The grip on the bottle tightened, her knuckles white. She swayed on her feet, and Y/N’s stomach dropped.

This was about to go very, very wrong.

“Amanda, put the bottle down,” Y/N said, her voice low, soothing. She took a step forward, careful, like she was approaching a cornered animal.

But Amanda’s eyes had gone dark, distant. Whatever part of her that Y/N knew was buried deep, locked away beneath layers of torment and alcohol. 

"You seem happy," Amanda said again, and this time, her voice was sharper, bitter. A cruel smile twisted her lips, her words dripping with venom.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, every instinct screaming for her to get out. But she couldn’t. Not with Amanda in this state, not with the fresh blood seeping from her wounds. Still, something told Y/N that no amount of calm words or soft gestures could pull her friend back from this. 

Amanda took a step closer, her fingers twitching around the neck of the bottle. "Why do you get to be happy? Why does he get to make you smile while I’m bleeding out?!" 

Y/N didn’t move. Couldn’t. The world seemed to slow, her mind racing, calculating the distance between her and the door, between her and the bottle that could shatter her skull in an instant.

Amanda took a step forward, her grip tightening on the bottle. Y/N felt the dread knotting tighter around her chest, like a fist squeezing the air from her lungs. Her pulse quickened, each thud a countdown, marking the seconds until everything exploded. 

“Why doesn’t he love me?” Amanda’s voice was a low, venomous hiss, thick with bitterness. The words dripped like acid, each one burning deeper into the fragile thread of their friendship. 

“Tae loves you, Mandy,” Y/N managed to say, her voice cracking with the weight of the lie. She wanted to believe the words, wanted them to soothe the raw fury in Amanda’s eyes, but even as they left her mouth, they felt hollow.

Amanda’s face twisted, her features contorting into something almost feral. Before Y/N could even register what was happening, Amanda hurled the bottle. Time seemed to slow, the glass spinning through the air, glinting in the dim light like a deadly promise. Y/N barely had time to duck before it smashed against the wall behind her, shards raining down like confetti. 

Her leg gave out as she hit the cold concrete, pain shooting through her stump. Sweat poured from her, pooling in the socket liner, making it impossible to gain traction. The tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, blurring the edges of her vision—fear, pain, and panic swirling in a chaotic storm inside her head. She was vulnerable, too vulnerable.

“How dare you?” Amanda’s voice was a scream now, a raw, animalistic sound that tore through the room. Her face was flushed, crimson creeping up her neck like a living thing, a fury that had been simmering for far too long. “After everything I’ve done for you, and you take his side?”

Y/N gasped, dragging herself backward, her fingers scraping against the cold, unforgiving floor. Her leg throbbed with each pulse of her heart, fear pumping through her veins like a second, pounding heartbeat.

“Stop, Amanda—please.” Her voice was a rasp, weak, pleading. She could feel the desperation in every syllable, but she had no choice now. Amanda was beyond reasoning.

Amanda’s eyes gleamed with a sick sort of satisfaction as she lunged, her hand closing around Y/N’s good leg with terrifying strength. “You must be fucking him too,” she spat, venom dripping from her lips as she dragged Y/N closer, her nails biting into Y/N’s skin like claws. “How long have you been screwing Taehyung, huh? Slut!”

The slap came out of nowhere, the sting of it like fire across Y/N’s cheek. Her vision blurred, the tears welling up, hot and fast. Amanda loomed over her, her face twisted into a mask of fury and betrayal, the scent of alcohol thick on her breath, clinging to the air like something foul.

“No wonder your parents hate you,” Amanda sneered, her words cutting deep, sharp and cruel, digging into the softest parts of Y/N’s soul. “You’re nothing but a needy, worthless bitch.”

Y/N cried out, her breath hitching, chest heaving as panic seized her throat, making it feel like every breath was razor-sharp, slicing her from the inside out. 

“Mandy, I would never—” Y/N’s voice broke, cracking under the weight of everything, as she reached out, desperate to reach the friend she once knew, to pull Amanda out of this dark, spiraling abyss.

But the moment Y/N’s hand brushed Amanda’s, something snapped. The last flicker of humanity vanished from Amanda’s eyes. Her grip tightened like iron, and before Y/N could react, she was being dragged toward the pool. The cold water shimmered under the fluorescent lights, a silent, gaping mouth waiting to swallow her whole.

“Liar!” Amanda shrieked, her voice a shrill, manic echo bouncing off the tiled walls. With a brutal, almost inhuman strength, she lifted Y/N into the air and hurled her into the water.

The cold hit like a punch to the gut, the icy water closing over Y/N’s head in an instant, pulling her down, down, into its dark, unforgiving depths. Panic clawed at her, every instinct screaming for her to kick, to swim, but the weight of her prosthetic dragged her under, pulling her deeper into the abyss.

Her chest burned, the need for air overwhelming as she thrashed, desperate for the surface. She broke through with a gasp, water streaming down her face as she gulped for breath. But then came the second splash. Amanda had followed her in.

Her heart raced, hammering in her chest as she kicked harder, fighting to reach the side of the pool. The chlorine stung her eyes, blurring her vision, but the edge was there—just a few feet away, so close. She clawed her way forward, her good leg pumping with everything she had left.

Her fingers grazed the slick, cool tile of the ledge. She was almost free. So close.

But then Amanda’s arms wrapped around her waist, dragging her back into the water. Y/N screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the pool as she struggled, panic surging through her veins like ice.

“If I can’t have him, you can’t either,” Amanda growled, her voice a low, venomous snarl as her nails dug into Y/N’s skin, leaving deep, painful scratches. 

In a burst of desperation, Y/N’s fist connected with Amanda’s face, the impact enough to loosen her grip. Seizing her chance, Y/N kicked hard, pulling herself out of the pool, gasping for air, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest.

She was free. For now.

Behind her, Amanda’s voice echoed, raw and enraged, “After everything I’ve done, and you take his side?!”

Y/N didn’t wait. She scrambled across the cold, slick floor, dragging herself toward her office, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The door was so close. So close.

She slammed it shut, her body trembling as she locked it, her fingers fumbling as she shoved her chair under the knob, praying it would hold. Outside, Amanda’s fists pounded against the wood, her screams growing louder, more erratic with each passing second.

Y/N grabbed her phone, her hands shaking so violently she nearly dropped it. She tried calling Jin—nothing. No answer. Panic blurred her vision, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she dialed again, her mind spinning, knowing he wouldn’t pick up. He was working. He couldn’t help her now.

The door rattled under another violent bang. Amanda’s voice was no longer human, devolving into a guttural snarl, her words a garbled mess of rage and betrayal.

Y/N’s only thought now was survive.

With trembling hands, Y/N dialed Taehyung, her fingers barely managing to press the numbers through the haze of panic. He picked up on the second ring, his voice calm, unaware of the nightmare she was trapped in.

“Hello?”

“Tae!” Y/N’s voice cracked, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced toward the door. Amanda’s relentless pounding felt like it was shaking the very walls, each blow making Y/N’s fear spike. “Help me! Please!”

Immediately, Taehyung’s voice changed, sharpened with concern. “Y/N? What’s going on? Where are you?”

“I’m at the school,” she gasped, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “It’s Amanda—she’s lost it. She thinks we’re sleeping together. She tried to drown me in the pool.”

On the other end of the line, there was a brief pause, the kind of silence that signaled Taehyung was processing the full horror of what she had just said. Then, in the background, she heard him yell, “Namjoon! Call the police. Now!” 

The urgency in his voice broke through the fog clouding Y/N’s mind. Namjoon must have been with him, and the fact that Taehyung didn’t hesitate to rope him in brought her a small, fleeting sense of comfort. 

"She’s going to break in," Y/N whispered, her heart pounding in her chest as the doorframe groaned under another vicious blow from Amanda. Each impact felt like it reverberated in her bones, the wood beginning to splinter under the force. 

“Stay with me, Y/N. Just breathe. I’m on my way,” Taehyung said, his voice steady, but she could hear the urgency threaded through it. “We’ll get through this.”

Behind his words, Y/N caught a snippet of Namjoon’s voice, low but unmistakable, talking fast. She could picture him now, his expression tense as he spoke into his phone, likely coordinating with the police. The knowledge that they were already acting, already working to save her, kept Y/N tethered to the present, even as Amanda’s rage grew louder, more violent.

Another crash, louder than before, sent a tremor through Y/N’s body. She flinched as the door splintered further, Amanda’s deranged growl slipping through the cracks like some kind of feral beast. “She’s going to kill me,” Y/N whimpered, her voice barely above a breath, her whole body trembling.

“You just need to hold on a little longer,” Taehyung urged, his voice tight. “Namjoon’s talking to the police right now. They’re on their way. Just hold on.”

Y/N pressed her back against the wall, pulling her legs up as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to focus on Taehyung’s voice, to ignore the horror unfolding just feet away. But the sound of Amanda’s fists, pounding the door with inhuman strength, drowned everything out. The door wouldn’t hold for much longer.

Then, abruptly, the pounding stopped.

The silence that followed was more terrifying than the noise. It pressed down on her, thick and suffocating, as her mind spun in wild, panicked circles. Had Amanda found another way in? Was she just outside, waiting to strike?

Then, faintly, the sound of boots thundered down the hallway. Relief surged through Y/N, her heart still racing but now for a different reason. The police.

"Y/N, they’re coming in!" Taehyung’s voice cut through the silence just as the door gave way with a violent crack, splintering the frame. Two officers rushed in, their guns drawn, the intensity of the moment washing over Y/N like a wave.

Amanda stood in the doorway, wild-eyed and frenzied, her hand still clutching the bottle of Jack Daniels like a weapon. Her face twisted into a grotesque snarl as her eyes darted between Y/N and the officers, a guttural growl rising from her throat.

“Drop the bottle!” one of the officers shouted, stepping in front of Y/N, shielding her from the danger. “You’re under arrest!”

For a second, Amanda’s eyes flickered with hesitation, as if some part of her recognized how far she had fallen. But then, the rage took over, and with a scream, she lunged. The officers moved swiftly, tackling her to the ground as the bottle shattered, glass and whiskey skittering across the floor.

Y/N watched, trembling, her chest heaving with uneven breaths as the scene unfolded in front of her. The weight of fear began to lift, replaced by a dull, hollow numbness. In the background, Namjoon’s voice could still be heard, directing the police from his end, ensuring they reached her in time.

One of the officers knelt beside her, his voice gentle despite the chaos. “Are you hurt?”

Y/N blinked, her mind slow to catch up with everything that had just happened. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered, the pain in her leg and the bruises on her body now making themselves known as the adrenaline drained away.

“Stay with me,” the officer urged softly. “Help is on the way.”

She nodded, her vision blurred by exhaustion and shock. Somewhere in the background, she could hear Taehyung’s voice still on the line, faint but persistent, pulling her back from the edge of panic.

“Y/N, are you okay?” His voice broke through the fog in her mind, and for the first time in what felt like hours, she managed to focus.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her voice weak but steady enough.

“We’re right outside,” Taehyung said, his relief palpable. “Jin will be here soon. Yoongi called Tami.”

As the officers secured Amanda in handcuffs and led her away, Y/N felt the storm inside her finally begin to calm. Namjoon had called for help. Taehyung had come through for her. She had made it through the worst of it. 

And whatever came next, she wouldn’t face it alone.

Y/N took a ragged breath, the sharp tang of antiseptic biting at her nose as she blinked away the last remnants of tears. Ted, the paramedic with a calm demeanor and the kind of smile meant to put anyone at ease, finished wrapping her leg in gauze. The bandages stuck to her skin, a second layer, tight and foreign, as if they were the only thing holding her together. “We’re going to take you to the hospital for a full checkup,” Ted said, his voice level but with an edge of urgency. “We’ll head out in about five minutes. Just let me know if you start feeling off, alright?”

The chaos of the night was still buzzing around her, a swarm of concerned faces and hurried whispers. Everyone from their group had shown up, except Jin, who was still stuck at the hospital. She hadn’t had the chance to call him, but Namjoon had spoken with him. Jin was on his way. That thought gave her a small flicker of comfort. Taehyung had been her rock the entire time, clinging to her in the ambulance, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his fear raw and palpable.

Amanda was gone now, already hauled away, but the weight of the night clung to the air like smoke after a fire. Taehyung had explained what had happened, his voice thick with guilt. Amanda had smoked a laced blunt, one of those toxic cocktails that twisted the mind, yanked reason out from under you, and let the darkness creep in. He’d stayed with her as she unraveled, gently turning down her advances when she tried to pull him in. He made sure she was safe until she finally passed out, but when morning came, she was gone. And Taehyung was left scrambling, calling everyone he could think of, desperate for a sign of her. Mark had finally let it slip—Amanda was lost in a fog of spice and delusion, the kind that dragged people into frenzies, into the kind of madness that left them shattered. Y/N could feel the heaviness of it, draping over her like a shroud.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Taehyung whispered again, his voice barely holding together.

“It’s not your fault,” Y/N murmured, sinking deeper into his embrace, craving some kind of warmth amidst the cold chaos.

He looked wrecked, his face drawn tight, eyes hollow. Watching Amanda being restrained and taken away had gutted him. She had fought so hard to stay clean, and now this. Y/N’s body trembled with exhaustion, her throat raw from screaming, but she didn’t hate Amanda. She pitied her. The thought of seeing her again filled Y/N with a cold dread, but there was still some small part of her that wanted Amanda to know she wasn’t alone. Taehyung had promised he’d be there when Amanda clawed her way back from this darkness, and Y/N believed him. Their bond was complicated, tangled in ways she didn’t fully understand. But Y/N couldn’t help but worry about how this would affect Taehyung’s already fragile relationship with Willow.

The ambulance buzzed with the energy of her friends, each one stepping forward to check on her, their faces creased with worry. Namjoon was a mess, tears streaking down his face as he pulled Y/N into a tight hug, his sadness soaking into her. Jimin stood close by, looking just as wrecked, while Erica’s voice echoed in Y/N’s head, frantic and hurried—five missed calls lighting up her phone since Tamla had dropped the news in their group chat. If Mai hadn’t been laid out with the flu, she would’ve been here too, hovering like a protective shadow. Their presence wrapped around her like a thick blanket, grounding her in the middle of the chaos, making her feel like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone in all of this.

Y/N’s gaze drifted and caught on Yoongi. His eyes were dark, filled with a storm of grief as he spoke quietly with the police about Amanda. Y/N knew their conversation wasn’t over. There would be a moment later, some time when they could both sit in the heaviness of everything that had happened. Yoongi’s sorrow mirrored her own, a shared weight that was both comforting and unbearable. Seeing the devastation carved into his features made her heart twist painfully. She was certain she looked like a ghost, bruised and battered, bad enough to make even him tear up.

Then, through the fog of exhaustion and noise, a frantic voice cut through. Jin. 

Relief flooded through her chest as Taehyung released her and called out for him. Jin rushed to her side, his face a mixture of fear and love. His cheeks were streaked with dried tears, and the sight of him, worn down by worry, made Y/N’s heart ache. He’d been crying too.

“Are you hurt?” Jin asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes sweeping over her as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.

“Just some scrapes and a busted lip,” Y/N replied, knowing she’d need a full checkup at the hospital. There was no escaping that.

“She tried to drown you?” Jin’s voice trembled, his disbelief palpable as if his mind was struggling to wrap itself around the horror of what had happened.

Y/N nodded, watching as his lip quivered, and suddenly, the dam broke. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms, and that was all it took for Y/N to finally let go. The sobs came hard and fast, racking her body as she buried her face in his shoulder. The tears felt endless, the release something she hadn’t known she needed until now. She didn’t care about the mess—about the snot dripping from her nose or the raw sounds coming from her throat. All she cared about was this moment of connection, of knowing she wasn’t alone in this.

She had fought harder than she ever thought she could, driven by a fear she didn’t fully understand. The fear of losing Jin forever. The future was a blur, uncertain and fogged by the aftermath of the night, but right then, in that moment, she felt sure of one thing—they were meant for something deeper, something bigger than she had imagined. The guilt that had pressed down on her for so long began to unravel, thread by thread.

She lifted her head, meeting Jin’s gaze, and without thinking, she kissed him. She needed to feel him, to banish the lingering shadows of fear that had taken root in her mind. He kissed her back, his lips warm and familiar, sparking a small flicker of hope in the middle of the chaos. They only pulled apart when the need for air became too much.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Jin whispered, nodding at the EMT who was waiting for him to step aside so Y/N could get onto the gurney. “I’ll get your leg from Namjoon and follow the ambulance, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N said, her voice soft, but her hand clung to his, not wanting to let go just yet. “I’m in this. I want you to know that.”

Jin smiled, leaning down to press one more kiss against her lips, this one gentle and reassuring. “We can talk more later, alright?”

As the sirens wailed in the distance, Y/N clung to the belief that no matter how dark the night had been, she would find her way back to the light—back to him.

Two Years Later

Y/N slammed the trunk shut with a hard, satisfying thud, dusting her hands off as if shaking off the weight of the world. Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, heavy and relentless, but beneath the weariness, there was something else—an electric hum just under the surface, a thrill that shot through her veins like a live wire. In two days, she would be in Yucaipa, California. In two days, she would stand on the edge of something that had haunted her dreams for years—the Paralympics. The thought made her smile, her chest tightening with a giddy, almost reckless anticipation. Win or lose, she would forever carry that title: Olympian. It was more than a goal; it was a mark that would stay with her forever.

“Babe! Erica’s on the phone!” Jin’s voice called from the house, slicing through the quiet. He waved her phone like a flag, his grin wide and full of pride, as if the call was something they’d both been waiting for.

“Coming!” she shouted back, her voice lighter than it had been in weeks.

Jogging inside, she planted a quick kiss on his lips, the warmth of him lingering against her skin as she snatched the phone. He gave her a playful swat on the backside, drawing a sharp, playful glare from her, one they’d done a hundred times before.

“I’m gonna give Felix the house keys,” Jin said, already moving toward the back door, his grin still in place.

“Okay,” she replied, her focus shifting to the phone, its screen glowing like a portal to the outside world, the normal world.

“Hey, Erica!” she greeted, her voice bright with anticipation as she answered.

“Hey, baby!” Erica’s voice came through, joyful, like a burst of sunlight after a storm. Her face appeared on the screen, radiant, her skin gleaming with that dewy sheen that only pregnancy could bring. The baby bump she proudly displayed had grown, now a full five months along, pulsing with life beneath the surface. Time had slipped by faster than Y/N could grasp—it felt like just yesterday that Erica had told her the news.

Beside her, Jimin’s face popped into view, grinning from ear to ear, his energy infectious. “We miss you!” he shouted, his enthusiasm spilling through the screen like a beacon of brightness.

“We miss you too, Jimin,” Y/N replied, her heart swelling at the sight of them both, her friends, so far away but still tethered to her in a way that grounded her.

The months since the attack at school had passed in a blur, leaving scars both visible and hidden. Y/N had walked away with nothing more than a minor concussion and a collection of bruises and scrapes. But Amanda… Amanda had fallen hard. She had been dragged off to court-mandated rehab while Y/N had thrown herself back into the one place that felt safe: the water. Swimming had always been her anchor, and she needed it now more than ever. They had spoken a few times after the incident, but then one day, Amanda had vanished—disappeared into the fog of her rehabilitation, leaving no trace, no words. Not even Taehyung, who had been closer to her than anyone, could reach her. After six months of trying, Taehyung had finally let go, starting fresh in a new house, a new life. He had a dog now, a symbol of his new beginnings.

“I’m so proud of you,” Taehyung had told her once, his voice tinged with both pride and the bitter aftertaste of loss. He had found his way through the darkness, but the scars of the past lingered in his eyes.

Jin had been her constant. He’d wrapped her up in his arms after everything that had happened, pulling her close as if the world could never hurt her again. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he had whispered, his words thick with the weight of everything left unspoken. He’d been the rock she needed, holding her up when everything else felt like it might crumble.

“You’re stronger than ever,” he had told her more than once, his voice firm and unwavering. And she had believed him, because she had no other choice. She had clawed her way back to the surface, back to the pool, to the only thing that made her feel whole again. That first dive into the water after the attack had been like breathing for the first time.

Jin had been there at every single meet, his cheers loud and unrelenting, his obnoxious signs waving proudly in the crowd, a beacon of support she could always count on. Whether she won or lost didn’t matter to him—he was always there, his presence like a lighthouse guiding her through the storm.

And now, standing on the brink of Yucaipa, on the edge of her dream, Y/N knew that no matter what happened in the water, she wouldn’t be doing it alone. She had fought her way back, through pain, fear, and uncertainty, and the people who mattered most were right there with her, pushing her forward, cheering her on.

As she felt the anticipation surge in her veins, Y/N knew she was ready. Ready to dive in. Ready to face whatever waited for her beneath the surface.

"Y/N, Tami and Yoongi are in Missouri," Erica said, pulling Y/N back from her thoughts and into the present moment. "I called them before you, and they asked us to pass it along."

"Wish we were coming," Jimin chimed in, his tone light and teasing. "But someone is pregnant and prone to throwing up."

"Wow," Erica shot back, drawing out the word with playful sarcasm.

"I love you," Jimin countered, his voice dripping with charm.

"Jerk," she retorted, but the warmth beneath her words was unmistakable.

"Still here," Y/N added with a smile, watching their banter fondly. She was glad they had found happiness together. It had started when Jimin asked Erica out a couple of months after Amanda left, and it was a joy to see them thrive in their new relationship, even if Jimin’s boundless enthusiasm sometimes bordered on excessive.

“Did Vic really drive down with Tamla?” Y/N asked, curious about the latest gossip.

Erica sighed dramatically. "Yes, my dad is really coming to watch you swim. And he brought the home movie camera with him."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know who’s worse, him or Jin.”

“At least everyone will know you’re loved,” Jimin interjected with a grin.

“Who’s that?” a voice asked off-camera.

“Y/N!” Erica replied, and Y/N instantly recognized Namjoon’s voice. A grin spread across her face.

"Y/N!" Namjoon exclaimed, taking the phone from Erica and walking away from the camera, her protests fading into the background.

"When are you leaving?" he asked, his expression serious yet filled with warmth.

"Tonight. I just finished loading everything into the car. Jin’s giving our neighbor a key to feed Serendipity, and my team’s bus leaves at five. So, we’re heading out soon."

“Keep me posted,” Namjoon said, his voice a mix of excitement and concern. “I told Tamla to FaceTime me when you start.”

“Glad to know you’re there in spirit, Joon,” Y/N replied with a soft chuckle.

“Give me my phone!” Erica’s voice cut in as she playfully slapped Namjoon on the back, trying to reclaim her device, but he was like a stubborn boulder, refusing to budge.

“He’s so... ugh!” Erica groaned, exasperation evident in her tone.

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with affection for them all. She missed them, but she felt grateful for everything she had. Leaving Loch Keen had been the best decision of her life. Her friends, scattered across different corners of the country, were still with her. The bond they shared was unbreakable, no matter the distance. 

And to think, there was a time she thought she’d never smile again.

The front door creaked open, and Jin poked his head inside. It was time. Y/N nodded, her heart racing with the thrill of anticipation, before turning back to say her goodbyes.

“Hey, guys,” she said, trying to balance excitement with the bittersweet weight of leaving.

“What’s up, Gup?” Erica responded, her playful tone infectious.

“Shut up, rat! She’s talking!” Jimin added with a laugh, their banter never getting old.

Y/N smiled. “I have to go,” she said, the words heavier with emotion than she expected.

“Aww, well, good luck, okay?” Erica’s eyes softened.

“Good luck, Y/N!” Jimin yelled enthusiastically. “Kick ass!”

“Text me when you get to the hotel,” Namjoon said, his tone serious but comforting.

“Love you,” Erica added, her smile as bright as ever.

“Love you, too,” Y/N replied, her heart full of warmth.

After a few more exchanges, Y/N finally hung up, a bittersweet tingle lingering in her chest. Jin stood by the door, waiting for her, his hand on the light switch. She sighed, nodding as she stepped outside, the cool evening air filling her lungs with promise. Anticipation thrummed through her body.

Jin started the car, the engine coming to life with a low hum. He glanced over at her and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that grounded her, steadying the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind. His presence always did that—anchoring her when the world seemed too big.

He buckled his seatbelt and turned on his Spotify playlist, familiar melodies filling the car. Y/N smiled, sinking into the moment as she settled in for the long drive.

"Remember what we talked about?" Jin asked, glancing at her with a mixture of seriousness and affection.

“I’m a winner no matter what,” Y/N replied, the mantra firmly embedded in her mind.

“And?” he prompted with a playful smirk.

“If I lose, that’s okay. But I won’t lose because I’m the shit.”

Jin laughed, his smile lighting up the car’s dim interior. “That’s my gold medalist.”

He reached for her hand, placing it on his thigh like he always did, knowing it brought her comfort. His thumb rubbed soft circles against her palm, a small gesture that made Y/N’s heart swell with love.

“I love you,” she whispered, feeling the depth of her emotions spilling over.

“I love you, too,” Jin replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

Y/N’s phone buzzed, pulling her from the quiet moment. She glanced down to see a text from Hoseok’s mother, a brief message that filled her with warmth. They had reconciled before she left Loch Keen, and while their relationship was still tentative, it was far more healing than she had anticipated.

Eun-Jae Jung: Keep swimming, Gup. Proud of you.

Y/N smiled, fingers brushing the ring hanging around her neck—a simple, small reminder of the past. A part of her that she carried with her, like an invisible thread tying her to everything she had overcome.

I’m happy, Hoseok. So unbelievably happy, she thought, her heart light as the car sped down the road, carrying her toward her dreams.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[meanbossart]

Another much overdue ask compilation! Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!

I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol. I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.

Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!

THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)

I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)

Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work. [MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)

Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.) Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple

And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive

Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.

THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.

Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.

Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)

YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.

Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought

That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.

He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.

HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)

But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).

The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.

I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.

He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.

It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.

I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.

I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.