#post-injury shoulder recovery

[labsportstherapy]

Common Weightlifting Shoulder Injuries

Weightlifting often leads to shoulder injuries like rotator cuff tears, shoulder impingement, or labral tears caused by repetitive stress or improper form. Physical therapy focuses on strengthening, mobility, and pain management through tailored exercises and manual techniques, ensuring safe recovery and injury prevention.

[embbarnes]

Подарок. | W.S

summary: You give the soldier a present for Christmas.

warnings: Fluff & Angst | Fem!reader | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Post!CA:TWS | PTSD mentions | Mention of medical treatments | Recovery | Brief talk of nightmares

a/n: Sort of unofficial part two to Sugar Plums since I had a few people asking for a part two. Same universe I guess, with some time between. Uhh probably rushed idk. To be edited later. ;; wc: 3.3k

Recovery.

Fickle, fragile, exhausting.

He gradually accepted being called Bucky, though the name stirred something uncomfortable within him each time it reached his ears. Steve, ever persistent and hopeful, would use various versions of the name - Bucky, Buck, or sometimes James - in his unwavering attempts to resurrect the friend he once knew, unable to accept that the Bucky from his memories had faded away like footprints in snow.

Winter had completely erased the old Bucky.

While these names would trigger a subtle internal struggle, he maintained an almost perfect mask of indifference, with only the slightest furrowing of his brow betraying any sign of his inner turmoil.

You, however, carefully navigated between calling him Bucky and Soldat, aware that using his old code name might reinforce programming you wished to help him break free from. Yet there was a slight relaxation in his shoulders when you used the familiar designation, the way it seemed to ease the constant tension he carried made it impossible to completely abandon - his comfort, however small, had become your priority.

Even if that comfort stemmed from a dehumanizing name.

It required negotiation and persistent discussions to convince Tony to finally allow the soldier access to the medbay wing for his necessary medical treatments. Despite the soldier's extended stay in the tower passing without any concerning incidents, Tony maintained a strong hesitation about providing medical assistance. His deeply-rooted skepticism and apparent distrust were sources of frustration for you, though you consciously chose to avoid escalating the situation into a full-blown argument, knowing it would only make matters more complicated.

You had already gotten into intense scuffles with Tony over the soldier’s stay, how he needed to be looked over, physically and internally. The dislocated arm Steve caused never healed, and he had been carrying his arm awkwardly close to his body. Other physical injuries on top of the apparent dehydration and malnourishment, he was constantly under a veil of sickness.

The situation was particularly delicate because Soldat struggled with being in the presence of the other tower residents. He was acutely aware of how everyone seemed to cautiously moderate their behavior around him, treating each interaction as if they were navigating through a minefield of potential triggers. Like they were walking along eggshells every time they were near him.

It felt like he was walking on glass.

You were his only source of comfort, though traces of caution still lingered in his demeanor. He knew you posed no threat to his wellbeing. You had been patient and gentle the entire time, regardless of his panic or prone sense to lash out if he got stressed enough.

Long nights stretched endlessly in the sterile medbay rooms, where you faithfully maintained your vigil in the uncomfortable chair positioned beside the standard-issue medical bed. The soldier’s bed remained empty, as he consistently chose to rest on the cold floor instead. Sleep was an elusive companion for him, a nightly battle he rarely won. More often than not, his rest was violently interrupted by his own terrified screams or desperate shouts, his body jerking upright with defensive movements, arms swinging at invisible threats.

You would spend countless minutes trying everything in your power to bring him back to reality and calm his frantic state. Sometimes, despite your best efforts and gentle words, the situation would escalate beyond your ability to manage, forcing the medical staff on standby to intervene with sedatives to prevent him from unintentionally causing harm during these episodes.

Luckily his recovery progressed slowly but surely, transitioning from those intensive IV treatments in the clinical environment of the medbay to the more comfortable setting of your personal quarters. His sleeping arrangements evolved as gradually as his treatment; first from the hard floor, then to the modest couch tucked against the far wall, and finally to your bed.

These days, he found his rest beside you each night, his body instinctively seeking comfort by curling close to yours, desperately trying to make up for all those decades of disturbed sleep and haunted dreams.

Over time, his attachment to you had grown increasingly intense, and he began experiencing waves of jealousy whenever your attention was directed elsewhere. You helped around the tower a lot, so you tended to be distracted with tasks or aiding in another’s need. The soldier didn’t like it, so he began leaving his mark on you. It started subtly at first, he would rub your clothes on himself, in his mind it was good enough that you smelled like him. He saw it in a documentary once, of animals, but he had been in such a dehumanized state for so long, it made sense to him. His body’s scent on you, others would back off. That would work.

But, no, it wasn’t enough.

One day, crossing an unspoken boundary between you, he started placing love bites along your skin, positioning these tender marks from your neck down to your shoulders, eventually becoming bold enough to venture lower, marking your chest with these plum bruises.

The possessive displays sent warmth coursing through your body, and you willingly accepted his territorial behavior. After all, you had become his sole source of comfort and security in this world, making it perfectly natural for him to want to claim you in some way - whether through his distinctive scent (you knew about him rubbing your clothes on his body) or these carefully placed marks. His need to establish this connection, to make his claim visible, he was terrified you’d be taken from him.

Progress was being made in your relationship.

While he was still cautious with physical contact, he had begun to allow gentle touches and brief moments of closeness, though always within carefully maintained boundaries. He was like a cat, deciding when he wanted physical attention and when he wanted it to stop. The challenge of memory recovery remained a significant hurdle in his healing process. You had to help him remember specific things, he often mixed Russian and English, or plainly forgot the simplest of words.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what a pillow was.

When Steve would speak to him, sharing stories and memories of their past, Bucky would often find himself lost in confusion, unable to connect with the vivid recollections that Steve so enthusiastically shared. The determination in Steve's eyes was evident as he tried desperately to help his lost friend remember the bond they once shared, but for Bucky, these memories remained frustratingly out of reach.

Steve's enthusiasm was well-intentioned, but sometimes, it manifested as an overwhelming flood of information and expectations. You could sense Bucky's growing distress during these interactions, the way his shoulders would tense, how his eyes would dart anxiously around the room. The stark reality was that Bucky's memories of Steve were minimal at best, yet Steve continued to share detailed accounts of their past experiences with increasing intensity.

Your became a careful mediator, providing emotional support to Bucky while gently helping Steve understand that his passionate approach was more hindering rather than helping the delicate process of memory recovery.

Bucky would get frustrated with himself during his journey of recovery. His collection of journals became a sanctuary for his fragmented memories, filled with carefully preserved photographs (provided by Steve), detailed notes written in an unsteady hand, and hastily scrawled thoughts or recollections that would suddenly surface from the depths of his consciousness throughout all hours of the day and night. These journals became both a source of comfort and torment, evidence of his struggle to piece himself back together like a puzzle without a photo.

Even with help from you or Steve, he maintained strict control over his recovery process. He deliberately chose not to document anything that Steve mentioned or tried to convince him of, instead focusing solely on recording memories that emerged organically from within his own mind.

Having experienced decades of mental manipulation, he didn’t want anyone influencing his thoughts or memories ever again. He couldn't bring himself to simply accept Steve's version of events without questioning them, needing to verify everything through his own recollections.

You knew it hurt Steve to see Bucky this way, how he refused to listen or believe him, but you couldn’t blame the man. Either of them, really. It was delicate, it took a lot of patience on everyone’s part.

Bucky’s dedication to recovering his past manifested in sleepless marathons that would stretch on for days at a time. The soldier within him approached the task with military precision, attempting to reconstruct his shattered memories in a specific manner. Yet despite his efforts, the majority of his recollections remained disjointed and fractured, with memories of his time with HYDRA dominating his consciousness more than anything else.

While Bucky was trying to recall his elusive past, you dedicated yourself to helping him build new neural pathways and retain more recent experiences, hoping to make his daily life more manageable and give him a sense of independence. The simplest tasks had become foreign territory for him - the muscle memory and basic understanding of everyday activities having slipped away like water through cupped hands. Modern appliances like microwaves, coffee makers, or the oven had become objects that he approached with confusion.

His relationship with food had become particularly concerning. Unable to prepare proper meals, you would find him furtively consuming makeshift sandwiches, but only when he believed he could finish them before being discovered. His posture during meals was hunched, protectively positioning himself over his plate or bowl, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming pace, his entire body tense as though preparing to defend his meal from unseen threats.

Food aggression, apparently, wasn't restrictive to just animals.

Among the numerous concerns, his recurring nightmares stood out as the most troubling and pressing issue. The frequency and intensity of these night terrors had become increasingly worrisome, regardless of how well he had progressed otherwise.

Night after night, his anguished screams would pierce the darkness, and these episodes gradually evolved into extended periods where sleep became completely impossible for him to achieve. Bucky would remain awake for days and nights at a stretch, fighting against his own exhaustion, scribbling nonsense into his journals until his body would finally surrender and he would collapse into a brief, troubled slumber.

This cycle would repeat, each time more severe than the last.

Your began looking into different methods that might help ease his troubled sleep so that Bucky could experience the simple luxury of peaceful rest. Your research led you through a wide array of options; from various herbal teas and natural sleep remedies to more conventional medical interventions. However, given his strong aversion to pharmaceutical solutions, you deliberately steered clear of medication-based approaches, knowing they would likely be met with resistance.

Over time, you discovered that a soothing routine of warm herbal tea and gentle companionship proved to be an effective remedy for his nightmares. The nightly ritual of sharing your sleeping space had become second nature, and you observed how this consistent presence brought him the comfort and stability his life lacked for seven decades. His sleep patterns were delicately intertwined with his emotional state, thus during periods of anxiety or perceived threat, his rest would become noticeably disturbed and fitful.

However, your unwavering presence served as a constant source of reassurance, creating a safe haven where he could finally find peaceful rest. Plus, it helped him regain new memories to write down and you could see how proud he was every time he recounted something from his past.

Christmas morning.

Every corner and crevice of the tower sparkled with festive décor, tinsel draped from every available surface, and twinkling lights illuminated the halls in a dazzling display. It was an extravagant winter wonderland that bordered on excessive, but that was exactly Tony's style - he approached every holiday with unbridled enthusiasm, and Christmas was undoubtedly his crowning achievement.

With his seemingly limitless resources at his disposal, there was nothing holding him back from creating the most elaborate celebrations possible.

Aka…he was rich so he could.

In contrast to Tony's lavish approach, you took a more modest approach when it came to gift-giving. The act of receiving presents always made you somewhat uncomfortable, as you found far more joy in being the one doing the giving. You selected meaningful presents for each team member, carefully considering their individual interests and preferences. You couldn't match Tony's extravagant spending (something he never failed to remind everyone of that morning), but you firmly believed that the genuine thought and personal consideration behind a gift carried far more significance than its monetary value (Tony disagrees).

Bucky perched uncomfortably at the far end of the plush couch, his posture tense and rigid while the other team members enthusiastically tore through their wrapped presents with childlike excitement. Your general annoyance with Tony's characteristic swagger and showmanship failed you this morning, a warmth spread through your chest at the genuine joy radiating from Pepper's face when she discovered the exquisite diamond ring he had carefully selected for her and presented after she freed it from the tight wrapping paper.

You stayed by Bucky all morning, carefully observing his reactions to the bustling holiday atmosphere. It was clear he was struggling to process the overwhelming sensory experience and you didn’t blame him. The twinkling lights and shimmering tinsel to the constant chatter and laughter of the group, on top of holiday music and the smells of breakfast and baked goods from the kitchen, were surely a lot to process. His discomfort grew and you recognized the telltale signs of sensory overload in his slightly widened eyes and shallow breathing. The social expectations was clearly taking its toll.

He had wanted to try, he wanted to sit down with you that morning, but he had been struggling.

Your gift pile was modest, exactly as you had requested. You insisted that presents weren't necessary, you found yourself the recipient of a generously stuffed Christmas stocking and an assortment of small, meaningful items carefully chosen by your teammates in a way that made it impossible for you to object to their kindness.

When Steve presented Bucky with a collection of carefully preserved mementos from their past, but the soldier's response wasn’t what he wanted. His eyes fixed on the items that should have sparked recognition, should have ignited memories of happier times, but instead were met with blank confusion and growing distress. You sensed the uncomfortable scene and noticed the mounting anxiety in Bucky's expression, you decided to intervene with a present you got for him.

"Here, I got this for you." You handed him a carefully wrapped bag with delicate tissue paper peeking out from the top, rustling softly with each movement. "Nothing all that special but...I figured it might be nice to have something like this." You replied gently, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness as you watched him, waiting with anticipation for him to open the gift.

Bucky held the bag tentatively, his eyes fixed on the festive baby blue packaging adorned with an intricate pattern of darker blue ornaments. The glitter-coated decorations caught the light as they spiraled across the surface of the bag. He had to blink a few times to refocus his eyes, his hand slowly reached up and grasped the white tissue paper that had been carefully arranged at the top, concealing the gift. He pulled it free, soft crinkling sounded as he removed it.

He reached into the depths of the bag, his fingers brushing against something soft before grasping it. As he drew it out, his hand revealed a charming stuffed elephant, its plush grey body soft to the touch. The toy was perfectly proportioned, with endearing fat limbs that dangled naturally from its tear-shaped body. Its oversized ears flopped gently and its trunk curved in a friendly manner that seemed to welcome embrace. The stuffed animal sat comfortably in his hands, sized just right for holding close and cuddling.

"Elephants are known for their memories, you know." You gave him a gentle, encouraging nudge, your voice soft and hopeful. "Who knows? Maybe having this elephant around will help spark some of those lost memories of yours. They say elephants never forget, after all."

Bucky turned to face you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. His eyes held that familiar, guarded look the soldier usually carried - a careful blend of wariness and interest that never quite revealed his inner thoughts. He examined the stuffed toy with an almost childlike fascination, as if encountering one for the first time.

His flesh hand explored every detail of the plush elephant with careful attention, fingers trailing along the soft fabric. He wrapped them around the trunk, testing its flexibility, then moved to rub the floppy ears between his thumb and forefinger, then squeezing the body gently as if checking its softness.

"There's something else too." You smiled warmly, gesturing toward the bag with enthusiasm. "Go ahead, take another look." He complied, reaching in until his hand emerged clutching a brand new journal. Following the theme, the journal was decorated in a soothing light blue shade, its cover stamped with a delicately printed elephant in the center. "I noticed your other journals were getting pretty full, so I thought you might need a fresh start. This one's got plenty of space, lots of room for all those thoughts and memories you want to keep safe."

His hands gently set the items down after examining each one carefully, his eyes lingering on every detail as if trying to memorize them. Then he turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You...got these...for me." Bucky spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen, as if he was having trouble processing the simple act of kindness. "To help me remember?"

"And, the elephant will be a nice cuddle buddy for those long nights you tend to have," you explained softly, watching his reaction. "It has special infusions of lavender and bergamot oils that I picked specifically to help you sleep better. The aromatherapy might even help soothe away those bad dreams you've been having. Well, at least according to the sales clerk." You reached out and lifted the soft plush elephant, bringing it to your nose and inhaling deeply. "See? It's really calming, isn't it?"

He took the toy back and smelled it deeply, letting out a contented sigh as the aroma filled his nose and sent waves of comfort through his body, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He carefully lowered the elephant into his lap, treating it as if it were made of delicate porcelain. His throat tightened with emotion as he swallowed hard and looked back at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and gratitude.

"All this for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he struggled to process the reality that someone would think to get him anything at all (Steve didn’t count). The concept of receiving gifts was so foreign to him, so far removed from his perception of what he deserved, that he could barely wrap his mind around it.

You thought maybe it looked sill to some people, but it was more about why you got it, not what you got him.

You nodded, offering a warm smile, "Yes...I got this just for you."

The soldier's gaze slowly drifted back to his lap, his fingers lingering momentarily on the thoughtful gifts before carefully pushing the journal and elephant to rest beside him. He then leaned forward quickly, closing the distance between you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. The display caught you off guard, given his usual hesitance to initiate any form of contact beyond nightly cuddling or his possessive love-bites.

After you recovered from the sudden gesture, your arms encircled him in return. You drew him closer as he nestled himself against your body, seeking comfort in your warmth and smell. It was one of the only things he could consistently rely on.

A knowing smile played across your lips as you whispered against his ear, "I take it you like it?"

"...Да."

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I had surgery a few weeks ago and I’m definitely hitting a wall mentally. I’ve been so sad with recovery and I’m so exhausted and cranky (unfortunately). I was wondering if you could write an emt!marauders or poly!marauders w reader going through that?? Thank you! Your writing has been a huge comfort for me during this time 🩷

Hi lovely! I realize it's been a while since you sent this so I hope you're feeling much much better now! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: post-op recovery, shoulder injury

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 727 words

James enters the bedroom to witness three stages of wakefulness. There’s Remus where he left him, fluffy haired and squinty eyed scrolling through his phone. One of Remus’ hands is toying idly with the ends of Sirius’ hair, who’s still dead asleep next to him, on his stomach with his face pushing into the pillow (James has never been able to figure out how he can breathe like that). Then there’s you, just sitting up with a groan and a sour look on your face. His angel. 

“Here, love.” James sets the coffee he’d brought for Remus on the nightstand, making sure the handle is facing him. Remus’ thanks is croaky with drowsiness, his smile gentle. James says to you, “Morning. How’d you sleep?” 

“Hard,” you mumble. You shrug your one shoulder experimentally, and grimace. “Too hard.” 

Remus makes a sympathetic sound, looking at you over the rim of his mug. “Did you sleep on it wrong?” 

“No.” You sound a tad defensive. “I was on my back all night.” 

Remus hums. “This is what happens when you don’t do your stretches at night, dovey.” 

You scowl. James ruffles Remus’ hair. “Be nice,” he chides. “You could do some stretching now, angel.” 

Sirius makes a disgruntled sleepy sound, rolling onto his side to wrap his arms around your waist. He settles his head contentedly on the plushness of your thigh. “Everyone shut up,” he grumbles. “And stop getting up.” 

“We’re not getting up,” James placates him. “She’s only doing her stretches.” 

“But it hurts,” you whine. 

“That’s why you do your stretches, sweetheart.” Remus gives you a look. 

James can feel you getting irritated. You’ve been recovering from your surgery for weeks now, and you’re growing exhausted not only with all the things you can’t do with your shoulder but also all the things you have to do to build back its strength and mobility. He goes to the dresser as you slump forward into your own lap, hapless. 

“Come on,” he laughs, tossing you your towel. “You can start with the towel one first. That one’s fit.” 

You look up at James. “It is not.” 

“Y’always look good, babe,” Sirius mumbles into your thigh. 

“See? And extra good when you stretch your arms like that.”

“He’s dead to the world.” You roll your eyes, though you’re petting Sirius’ hair fondly. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

Still, you sigh and pick up the towel when Remus nudges it towards you pointedly, rolling your neck in preparation. James feels a bit of warmth come to his face (he was only partly joking about how attractive you are when you stretch). 

It’s a bit difficult for you at first, clearly, the result of growing a bit lax about your stretches over the past few days. James can see Remus’ lips press together like he’s physically restraining himself from commenting on it. A low whine builds in your throat. 

“There you go,” says Sirius in a salacious tone. James is beginning to suspect he’s more awake than he’s letting on. “Tell us how you really feel, sweetheart.” 

“This is so pointless,” you grumble. “It’s too lame to do anything.” 

“Don’t say that,” James chides you. It’s not his intention to make you feel like you can’t vent to them, but James is firmly of the belief that ceasing negative talk will eventually lead to an abatement of negative thoughts. “It’s working, you just need to give it time. You’re tons better than you were a couple of weeks ago, right?” 

“If you mean I can pick up an empty soda can,” you say drily, “then yes.” 

“That is what I mean. Empty soda cans are a big step.” 

“It’s a process,” Remus tells you in a more placating tone. “You can’t expect to be all the way better overnight. Especially not if you’re not doing your stretches.” 

You don’t miss the judgment threaded through that last bit, your expression turning sour again. Sirius appears to sense this without opening his eyes. He hugs you around the middle, smearing a kiss over your thigh. 

“You’ll get there, lovie,” says James. “And hey, if it’ll help, I can sit with you while you do your stretches every day. I wouldn’t mind that at all.” 

Remus snorts, and Sirius mumbles something into your skin that sounds like “I’ll bet you wouldn’t.”

[4theitgirls]

hii <3 i absolutely love all your workout posts soo soo much <3 thank u for them ! i just had a request if you could make a post about a weekly plan for beginners ? like someone who's just recently starting exercising for weight loss and overall health as a student who's prepping for a national exam , ive spent the entirety of 2024 on my desk , its caused me back issues , weight gain , joint pain and more , now that i finally have time i'd love to feel healthy and strong again <3 it would be a huge huge help if you post it <33 thank u a million times

hi lovely! i’m so glad my posts have helped you. most of the videos i’m going to be posting in the near future are likely going to be beginner friendly because i have had a flare up of inflammation in my shoulder, so i will not be going too hard for a bit. the videos that will work for you will vary from mine and anyone else’s, so the actual videos you do are really up to you and how you’re feeling day to day. however, i can suggest a split for you to try and give you some tips and channel recommendations!

split:

monday: full body strength

- if you have joint issues, strength training can definitely help with that! just make sure that you are doing low-impact exercises to keep pressure off of your joints. madfit and heather robertson have a lot of these types of videos, both with equipment and without! you can also do pilates for this if you feel it will benefit you better, and i have a beginner pilates routine masterlist posted.

tuesday: cardio & mobility

- same as monday, just be sure that you are doing low-impact exercises for cardio. i have a masterlist for cardio routines as well in case you need some recommendations. for mobility, i recommend heather robertson and julia.reppel on youtube. mobility is great for improving joint health!

wednesday: lower body

- you can really do any form of strength training here, with or without weights, pilates, etc. i have a lower body masterlist up as well, but i would recommend trying some mat/lying workouts to build up some muscle before moving into more intense exercises for lower body day. i have a couple of those masterlists posted as well!

thursday: active recovery

- this can include so many things, including mobility, stretching, yoga, walking, or anything else you can do that is gentle on your body. again, i love heather robertson’s active recovery routines.

friday: upper body

- if you have joint issues in your upper body, i would be gentle on upper body days, meaning just don’t push yourself too hard and if a movement doesn’t feel good or causes you pain, stop. emi wong and hailey c. have great upper body workouts that do not require any equipment.

saturday: cardio & core work

- same thing with the low-impact cardio. core work has so many benefits and is great for stabilizing your spine and, in turn, reducing the risk of injury to your joints. madfit has a lot of ab workouts, but you can really find them on any workout channel you like!

sunday: rest or active recovery

NOTE: please make sure, especially if you’re a beginner, that you are stretching after each workout! this will reduce soreness and risk of injury.

[cjlouwho]

okay so I wrote a fic based off this post that I made earlier today so... enjoy!

read here or on ao3

Thomas Kinard is eighteen years old and he just graduated basic training.

He's standing among nearly two hundred other graduates, all filled with some form of anxiety and excitement.

They're all standing at attention, although Tommy knows everyone's eyes are searching the audience.

They've all been given their orders.

They stand at attention until a family member or loved one comes and taps them out. Only then can they be at ease.

Tommy had called his dad a couple weeks ago. Left him a message on the landline about the date and time of his graduation. He hadn't expected a call back. The payphones at basic weren't great and you didn't have much spare time to be on them, but he knew his dad would get the message.

He wrote a letter to his grandparents, just in case. His aunt on his mom's side, and his older cousins too.

They'd been proud when he told them he was graduating early, joining the service, would be celebrating his eighteenth birthday in boot camp.

Even his dad has slapped him on the back and told him he was glad he was finally becoming a real man.

Tommy's eyes scanned the crowd, but it was hard to make anyone out.

He waited patiently through the ceremony. His heart skipped a beat or two when people began making their way toward the graduates.

He stood still, only his eyes darting around as the people beside him began to get tapped out. He listened to the cries of parents who had done nothing but miss their children for the past 10 weeks. Saw grown men cry at the site of their moms. Heard the laughter from boyfriends and girlfriends who surprised their partner by showing up. Watched little kids run to their sibling and wrap their arms around them in a hug.

He was certain that only a few minutes had passed, but it felt like hours.

As more and more seconds passed, his heart continued to pound, but for a different reason now.

Surely he wasn't the only one. As he glanced around, he didn't see anyone else waiting. No, he couldn't see everybody, but he was near the back in the center row so he could see most people, and they all had somebody with them.

A hand tapped his shoulder and his head jerked to the side, eyes wide. He felt a lump in the back of his throat when he saw his commanding officer standing beside him. He had the softest look on his face that Tommy had ever seen.

Pity.

“At ease, soldier.”

Tommy takes a breath, relaxes his posture. His CO moves in front of him, shakes his hand. “You've done well, Kinard. You should be proud.”

Tommy nods. Can't find his voice to speak.

He feels tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away.

He shouldn't have expected anyone to show up anyway.

He lowers his head as he walks off the field. A part of him wonders what it was all even for?

*****

Thomas Kinard is forty-eight years old and he just got promoted to captain.

It's not something he ever thought about until the past couple of years. He wouldn't get to fly much as captain. There's more paperwork, more politics, more people to answer to.

But there's also more stability. Especially with being the captain at Harbor. A regular schedule, forty-eight on and ninety-six off.

It was safer. There had been a scare a couple years back. Engine failure on his bird. He went plummeting toward the ground and, if not for a dense area of trees slowing his descent, the chopper would have exploded the second it hit the ground.

He survived, obviously, but his injuries were severe. He had a broken pelvis, fractured leg, thirty stitches down his arm, cranial bleeding, and ended up in a coma for nearly two weeks.

The recovery was long and so, so painful but he had Buck by his side every step of the way. Even the times he'd push Buck away, tell him to please just leave him alone, Buck stayed. He stayed and he learned all the physical therapy techniques and he loved Tommy through all of it.

Flying hadn't felt the same since. He was relieved when he had fully recovered. When he took his recertification classes and passed with flying colors.

But the freedom he had always felt with being in the sky changed into something completely different. There was anxiety. Relief when he was back on solid ground.

He stared out into the crowd, at the little girl sitting on Buck's lap.

Juniper. Six years old and looking more grown up every day. She was glancing all around the room, her eyes never staying in one place for very long. She kept pointing at things, leaning back to whisper into Buck's ear. He'd nod, smile, then whisper back. Tommy was sure they were swapping facts.

So much like her father, he thought.

He'd never forget the day he got home from the hospital. Juniper, only four then, staring at him as he was wheeled into the house. She was clutching onto Eddie's hand, her knuckles snow white. She hadn't gotten to see him in nearly a month, besides an occasional Facetime call.

Once he had gotten settled into the hospital bed that had been delivered to the house the day before, he called her over to him. She slowly climbed up onto the bed, Buck helping her settle beside Tommy without really touching him.

“You scared me, Papa,” she spoke quietly, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Please don't do it again.”

No, flying was never the same after that.

His eyes wander over the rest of the crowd.

A small smile breaks out over his face when he realizes he knows everyone in the first two rows.

Besides his husband and daughter, Maddie, Chimney, and Jee were there. Hen- or, Captain Wilson, now- and Karen. Eddie, Ravi, and Athena. Behind his family were all the firefighters from Harbor. They had been thrilled when they heard Tommy would be the new captain. He'd been taking cues from Bobby recently, starting special dinners with the crew and getting to know them better before he even became captain. He wanted his team to know he'd be there for them, that they could count on him. From the excitement they showed when it was officially announced that he'd be the new captain, he was fairly certain he'd done a good job so far.

The only person not in the audience today was Bobby. But, that was simply because Chief Nash was the one leading the ceremony.

Tommy takes another look around at the family in front of him. He waves at Juniper. She grins wide, showing off her missing front teeth, waves enthusiastically.

His eyes meet Evan's. Tommy gives him a wink. Buck smiles, winks back.

He straightens his posture as the ceremony begins.

He thinks, this... this is what it's all for.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Oct 8th

~*~

1. Hello! Thank you for being doing this, I find so many things I haven't read! Today, I'm in the mood for any fic where WWX is really shy only around LWJ, like, incredibly nervous, and they end up together eventually, maybe one where LWJ is the one who flirts, subtly, in his way and WWX loses his mind over it 😂 @ghostwolf-93

loveliness by orphan_account (T, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Pining, Teen Romance, Getting Together)

Back up and dream again by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 3k, WangXian, Fix-It, Time Travel, Fluff, Flirting, Cute, Embarrassed WWX)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) The first few chapters of Stunted, Starving Juvenility () feature a flustered Wei Ying after he realizes he's attracted to Lan Zhan which is close to the request but maybe not quite what they were after.

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2. I am in the mood for a fic with dark Jiang Cheng (maybe even demonic cultivator Cheng) and some Jiang Cheng/Wei Wuxian pairing. It could be alternate universe where they didn't grow up like siblings and I would like some arranged marriage between them. It doesn't have to come through and the endgame can be different pairing. I am curious if there is such fic out there.

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3. hello and thank you so much for what you do!!! I just read "although my mind is young, it is not gentle" by everythingispoetry and I was hoping you could recommend me something similar? Something centered around Lan Sizhui and showing his relationship with Lan Wangji and/or Wei Wuxian. Could be him growing up pre-canon or during canon , idc. @ladyhavilliard

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, let capricorns cathart agenda, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship)

🔒 Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Feels, Family Bonding, POV LSZ, This Fic Has Everything, even more yearning, WWX & LSZ figuring out wtf their relationship is, Dramatic Revelations)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian (G, 10k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Father-Son Relationship, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, More aligned with CQL than novel canon, Miscommunication, Eventual Positive Communication, Trying to be a family, how to tell your dad you want him to be your dad in 6 easy steps!)

Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Not Rated, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, dad wangji, LWJ’s Questionable Parenting Skills, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Injury Recovery, Hopeful Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

Inquiry by incendir (G, 10k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa) This is basically Lan Yuan growing up with Inquiry as a lullaby (and seeing LWJs grief through his eyes) I'm not familiar with the fic mentioned in the ask, but this fic focuses on LSZ growing up. Tissue alert! And double tissue alert for the podfic version

to recollect and long for by mme_anxious (T, 4k, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, Angst, Humor, Fluff, weird mix of book and live action, Forehead Ribbons, Family Feels, Weddings, Sort Of, POV Multiple)

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4. HII! Can you please find some zombie au's with wangxian? Ty!

The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 (M, 277k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Zombie Apocalypse, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Accidental Baby Acquisition During a Zombie Apocalypse, Junior Quartet, (except they’re all babies), Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Ensemble Cast, Worst Zombie Fighting Team Ever, Found Family) Amazing Zombie AU

When the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation takes a week off by galaxy_in_your_eyes (T, 20k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives, only those that deserve it, kind of fix-it, Zombie Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, POV Alternating, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Brief Mentions of Cannibalism, Zombies, We don’t see the Zombie Apocalypse, It happens behind closed doors, WWX in quarantine, Wangxian being Wangxian, Mentions of Smut, Established Relationship, Courtesy Names, local necromancer gets sick with the flu)

Darkness Before the Dawn by Selenay (E, 64k, wangxian, Zombie Apocalypse, Modern With Magic, Necromancer WWX, Reunions, toddler A-Yuan, There Was Only One Bed, There are zombies but not graphically horrific zombies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Find a home in the middle of an apocalpyse)

when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations)

❤️ A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun (Not rated, 60k, WangXian, Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Horror, Zombie WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, yunmeng trio, Eventual WangXian, WWX is dad material even in death, Humor, YLLZ but make him dead, A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun [Podfic] by Miss Appellation (Lizeth)) WIP podfic / featuring WWX doing the impossible again, being the best big brother, dad and LZ's crush as a consious boss zombie! Beware of some angst tho

a thousand teeth, yours among them by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Violence, Mild Gore, Hook-Up, Falling In Love, metaphysical sexual body horror (??), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Melancholy)

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5. hello! i would love recs for mpreg fics set in canon/post-canon that are NOT a/b/o.

🧡Accidents Will Happen by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 45k WangXian, Post Canon, Mpreg, Fluff, Light angst, Mojo's post)

Bloom where you are planted by luckymoonly (M, 44k wangxian, MM/WQ, Canon Divergence, Fix It, courting, Mpreg, Sunshot Campaign, Fluff, Happy Ending, getting together early, Romance, WWX giving birth in the middle of the war? Most likely than you think!, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Smut, Drama, Blood and Violence, Minor Character Death, There Is Only One Bed, No Fall of Lotus Pier, Crossdressing, Shotgun Wedding, Mention of miscarriage (not WWX), wangxian Have a Breeding Kink, Giving Birth, Soft granduncle LQR)

Blooming in white by luckymoonly (T, 38k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, MM/WQ, NMJ/LXC, NHS/JC, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Getting Together, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, hidden pregnancy, Mutual Pining, Drama, Misunderstandings, Everyone Lives AU, Miscommunication, WWX and NHS are BFF, matchmaker NHS, Fix-It)

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal)

in a river you wade by bleuett (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Good Uncle LQR, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Kid Fic)

Take My Pieces, Make Me Whole by InTheGreySpaces (M, 297k, WangXian, NieLan, ChengQing, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, JC & WWX Reconciliation, JC is a good brother, LXC Is A Good Brother, Golden Core Reveal, Mpreg, Yuan really IS WWX's son, and LWJ is his other father, LQR is a good uncle, Eventual Happy Ending, WWX Has Memory Issues, NMJ is a good brother, Hurt LWJ, Hurt NMJ, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, tiny bit of non-con, chapters will be tagged individually with necessary warnings, sentient Yin Iron)

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6. I am in the mood of fic with some body swap trope. I mean like if Lan Zhan swapped his body with Wei (maybe some magic went wrong) and both have to pretend to be who they are not. Or it could be bodyswap with any other character. Lan Zhan and Huaisang or Wei and Mingjue or anyone else. I think there is big potential for great stories in there. No modern aus or gender swap please.

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

come home to my heart by occultings (microcomets) (M, 29k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Misunderstandings, and a little bit of hurt/comfort as a treat)

These next two are crossovers with TGCF & the body swaps involve characters from that story:

🔒even across a thousand miles by merryofsoul (T, 10k, WangXian, HuaLian, Bodyswap, Post-Canon, Light Angst, Crossover, POV Alternating)

lost my fear of falling by thefireplanet (E, 30k, WangXian, HuaLian, Bodyswap, YLLZ WWX, WWX-centric, WangXian-centric, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Canon-Typical Wangxian Sex Things)

Two Sides of the Same Coin by JiangChengLotus (T, 4k, XiCheng, WangXian, Bodyswap,Humor, Fluff, Bonding, Chaos, Developing Friendships, Misunderstandings)

flux by orphan_account (E, 60k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Continuation, Case Fic, Getting Together, Sharing a Bed, Curses, Bodyswap, Sharing a Body, Psychic Bond, Love Confessions, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, Telepathic Sex, Investigations, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Slow Build, Slow Burn) i have to recommend Flux! its a case fic that starts out as bodyswap and eventually leads to sharing a body where they can jump between their two bodies together. its so interesting and i find myself coming to back to it from time to time

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7. ITMF request pls 🙏🏻 there's quite a few reincarnation/time-travel fix-its where either both WWX and LWJ retain their previous memories, or only LWJ but not WWX. Are there any where WWX retains his, but not LWJ? Thank you in advance ♥️♥️

Practical Mythology by metisket (T, 17k, WangXian, Time Travel, YLLZ WWX, myths and legends, apparently the burial mounds has to fix everything itself, zombie farm collective, accidental deities, Families of Choice, WWX has no idea what he’s doing, that’s why he’s doing great) WWX travels back in time & becomes known as a powerful immortal. Baby!LWJ grows up on the myths

Last(?) Loop by PyrrhaIphis (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Loop, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, before the Cloud Recesses study arc) WWX is in a timeloop, but told from pov of LWJ, who is not in the loop

❤️ And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) multiple podfics and translations into multiple languages available

Wish me luck by starlight1395 (Not Rated, 164k, WangXian, Fix It, Time Travel, Angst, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Nightmares, Slight fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Lots of tears, canon levels of blood/violence, Minor Character Death, secondary character death, Sibling Bonding, JC curses alot, battle scenes with appropriate levels of violence and blood, semi mild smut, it's emotional and soft smut tho so it's okay, mild Self-harm)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons) has WWX's soul zip back to the moment JC strangled him. The memories are incomplete but I think it still counts?

We’ll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can’t shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, WWX & JYL, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, A Love Letter to WWX, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It) is one where WWX is the only one to travel, but the story is told from everyone else's POV

two guys r in love thats literally it by victortor (M, 11k, wangxian, Time Travel, the fluffiest thing ive ever written)

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8. Itmf more like " dispersing clouds ". I Just love the wwx in it. He's written soo good there. Especially the aspect of him being a head disciple, the author wrote about it in such a way that he actually felt like a head disciple. That one paragraph about him waking up and going " 5 laps around the pier now. " It was soo hotttt! Helooo?

Everything else in the book was written so perfectly true to every character.

This book comes par with " 12 moons and a fortnight " for me NGL. @constellationdks

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing) Like in Dispersing Clouds, WWX leaves the Jiang but spends time fixing the defences & interacting with elders & fellow disciples. I definitely feel it has similar vibes to that fic

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9. hi!! im looking for recs where both lwj and wwx time travel to the past (preferably longer and novel canon, but anything works!) thank u!!

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending)

🔒 Here With Me by iamwish (T, 58k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, wwx turns this into a no war!au, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator, (all of them))

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) Out of the pair of them, initially only WWX remembers, but LWJ regains his memories of the undone timeline over the course of the fic

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ)

Family by Quiet_crash (G, 57k, WangXian, XuanLi, Time Travel Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Established Relationship)

The Wild Geese’s Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, WangXian, Time Travel AU, fixit, Temporary Character Death, all women live no women die, LWJ’s canonically intense feelings about everything all the time, WWX’s clinical depression gets treated and blamed on resentful energy, navigating gay marriage in ancient china by utiliizing class snobbery for your own ends, if you’re not sure whose fault anything going on in here is then blaming NHS is probably a good bet, WWX plays ‘summon LWJ’ it’s super effective!, the ‘unexploded cow’ approach to dealing with your enemies) CQL rather than novel canon, but it's too good to not recommend

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10. Itmf: the most comforting and soft fic recs you have!

I want a happy ending and for it to be about Wangxian. I don't care about length, it can be a long, plot filled story, as long as there's plenty of fluff!

I'm talking lots of cuddles, soft kisses, non sexually bathing each other, hair brushing, things like that! Bonus points for the smell of sandalwood relaxing Wei Wuxian, but certainly not required!

Thank you all! @acebookdragon47

Continuation by thefaceofno (T, 13k, WangXian, 3zun if you squint, Canon Continuation, wwx builds a lotus pond in cloud recesses, Hair Brushing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, Pining, gay disaster lwj, Post-Canon Fix-It)

call me home and I’ll build you a throne by anaphoricae (E, 51k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Post-CQL, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Self-Indulgent, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, Touch-Starved, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sexual Intimacy, Lán Juniors Gossiping about Wangxian, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Farmer WWX, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Mutual Pining, Communication, Quietly Falling Into a Married Life, Light Angst, Wholesome, POV LWJ, POV WWX, LWJ in braids agenda, Sharing a Bed, Semi-Public Sex, Inventor WWX, Jealous WWX)

where the chaos is by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 6k, WangXian, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Compliant, Post-Canon Reunions, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Emotions, WWX is overwhelmed, Domestic Bliss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Intimacy, Hair Brushing, and more!)

🔒Heart of hearts series by apathyinreverie (M, 40k, WangXian, Dark LWJ, (Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Kind Of, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, Possessive WWX, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Not Cultivation World Friendly)

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 316k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever)

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11. itmf fics where characters have a crush on wei wuxian or fall for his charms?

Cotton Wool by incendir (M, 34k, wangxian, LJY/OMC, JL/LSZ, JC & WWX)

Help, My Dad Is Fucking Someone My Age!! by sweetlolixo (T, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Humor, Crack, Fluff, Romance)

Transcend by covalentbonds (not rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut, YLLZ WWX is prettiest fight me)

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12. hi! this is for itmf.

can you recommend fics that discuss sizhui’s dislike for jiang cheng? this could be because of his treatment towards wei wuxian or maybe because of his treatment and dislike of the wen remnants. thanks!

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixtothou (G, 3k, background WangXian, LSZ & JC, Families of Choice, Light Angst, LZS Needs a Hug, Angry LSZ, i simply think lsz deserves to snap, zhuiling if you squint, Not for jc stans, Post-Canon, Character Study)

Symmetry by Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, One-Sided JC/WWX, One-Sided JC/LSZ, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by WWX, WWX still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit)

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13. itmf wwx or lwj centric modern setting long fic with some family angst! preferrably not slow burn, no vers please! thank u <3

🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 179k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX, caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war)

Ornaments Under the Stars by trippednfell (M, 62k, wangxian, Modern, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, the wangxian Hallmark Movie AU no one asked for, plot and title were randomly generated, Kidfic, Disabled Character, debilitating injury as substitute for missing golden core, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guest starring Lan Zhan’s sky blue coat, The Coat deserves its own tag, disordered eating habits - not a major plot point, WIP)

❤️ save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, wangxian, modern w magic, college/university au, fake/pretend relationship, single parent WWX, homophobia, light angst w/ happy ending, idiots to lovers, fluff)

‘Let’s go home.’ by Crowgirl (E, 27k, WangXian, Coffee Shops & Cafés, LQR's Excellent Parenting, Meet-Cute, First Kiss, First Time, First Meetings, Pining, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Past XiYao, past emotional abuse, Past Emotional Manipulation)

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14. hello! for the next itmf i have three requests! i would love to see canon/post-canon fics of

A. jingyi seeing wangxian as his parents

B. jin ling seeing wwx as a parent

C. jin ling struggling with his feelings about jc after finding out the truth about everything

no AUs please!

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15. Hi! so this request is under itmf i think!

i didn’t see much mention of this but are these any fics that talk about lwj and wwx’s class difference? anything where wwx gets to experience luxury for the first time as lwj’s husband? 🥹 it doesn’t have to be in detail but i would love to read about that!

as always thank you for your blog and all that you do 🫶

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 859k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) In the early parts of this fic, WWX worries about how LWJ is out of his league class-wise & that the elders will never allow them to get together

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16. hi! are there any canon divergence fics where wei ying snaps out of whatever disassociation he experienced and manages to save lan zhan before the elders can even get to punish him? like, the whipping didnt happen at wei ying lives type of beat. thank you!

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17. Hi! Hope you have a nice day! I’d like to ask for fics which include a-yuan calling Wuxian his dad or wwx calling wen qing his sister

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Hurt!WWX, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-it, Medical Procedures, Fainting, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Asexual JC, homophobia doesn’t exist here, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Wedding Night, Whump) a-Yuan refers to Wei Ying as his dad starting in chapter 18

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[emeritusemeritus]

Can I sleep here tonight?

Title: Can I sleep here tonight?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x pregnant!wife!reader, Molly and Arthur Weasley (being absolute gems)

Timeline: Set post-war. George lost his ear a per canon but Fred is very much alive and thriving, married and expecting his first child. The burrow is mentioned for story purposes so it didn’t burn down and we’re ignoring canon once more.

Summary: George arrives at the burrow asking to spend the night, desperate to get away from Fred and his pregnant wife.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, pregnant character, brief mentions of war and previous injury, though no graphic description is included. Mentions of sex.

It's way past tea time, darkness settling all around as the last glimmer of winter sun fades into the hills when George Weasley apparates onto the familiar dirt road leading up to his childhood home. He's armed with only his wand and a small suitcase no bigger than a briefcase, only holding the basics.

Since the war, Molly and Arthur had kept up the old enchantments placed upon the Burrow as a precaution, the fears never truly leaving them. With a wave of his wand, George clears the enchantments and steps through the invisible barrier to get to the house. As he steps towards the little stone step that acts as the threshold to the house, the door is thrust open and a warm and solid body pulls him inside. He recognises the body as his mother the very second her height and smell come into focus.

"My boy! What are you doing here?  You look tired and peaky, is something wrong? I'll make you something to eat. Arthur!" Molly shouts loudly for her husband after fretting at seeing George on their doorstep without any prior warning, especially without his twin. Since opening the shop, them moving out together, the war, George's recovery, and Fred's wedding, the twins have been so busy it's been an endeavour to get them back home even for a simple visit. "Arthur!"

"Mollywobbles what is it?" Arthur shouts back, his voice getting louder as he moves towards the kitchen. "Oh hello son," he says as he walks into the kitchen, seeing George stood there clutching a small briefcase. Arthur instinctively frowns at the unexpected visit but welcomes his son with warmth, wrapping him in a hug, patting his back a few times before pulling away.

"Do you want a cup of tea dear?" Molly asks, already making her way over to the kettle and busying herself to make something to eat for George, regardless of his radio silence.

"Now Molly, it seems he might need something stronger than tea, right son?" Arthur asks, patting George's shoulder once. "Why don't be crack open some of my Knotgrass mead? I've been saving it for an occasion, no time better than the present." He ushers George to sit at the table and Molly rushes over with a large bottle of mead and two pint glasses, bringing over an elaborate sandwich on a plate for George.

"Thanks mum," George says as Molly places down the welcomed food, noticing that she'd used one of her nicer plates for him, not something that he was ever allowed when he was younger. 

"Cheers!" Arthur says, holding up his glass towards George's after he'd poured them, happy to have a drinking buddy at home.

"So what's wrong son? Not that you're not always welcome of course," Arthur says, eyeing his son with a hint of suspicion as Molly takes a seat opposite George, placing down a cup of tea made for herself.

"Can I stay here tonight?" George asks, cringing at the slight awkwardness of his request, feeling like a child again.

"Of course you can!" Arthur says as if he's offended by the notion of George even having to ask.

"Of course you can dear, how nice to have a fuller house again! I'll put some fresh linens on the bed for you," Molly rushes up towards Fred and George's old room and with a swish of her wand, changes the bedsheets in no time at all. She returns to see the men chatting at the table and takes her place once again, reaching for her tea.

"Do you want to tell us what's wrong?" Arthur says, taking the lead. George sighs heavily, not wanting to say outright what the problem is but unable to think of a plausible excuse.

He sighs once more before admitting to the issue under his parents concerned gazes, "it's Fred and y/n."

"Have you had a falling out?" Molly quickly says, interrupting George. Arthur gives her a quick look which tells her politely to be quiet until their son has finished to which she nods and waits.

"Not exactly, it's just... I can't bare to listen to them having sex anymore. Silencing spells don't work, I've even tried muggle earplugs, well one, but that didn't work either! I only have one ear and it's still bad! Since Y/n got pregnant it's none stop, I thought getting pregnant was bad enough but bloody hell," George barely conceals a shudder at the thought of his twin brother and his wife having near constant sex in the same flat as him.

He picks up the sandwich and begins tucking in, not having time to get any food in his haste to flee the flat about the shop that he shared with Fred and y/n.

He turns his gaze back to his parents and is immediately surprised at the look they are sharing between each other. Both of them are smiling lovingly, a blush spreading on both of their faces, both appear to be speaking with their eyes.

"What?" George says with a mouthful of food, frowning, not understanding their reaction.

"Why do you think we had so many children?" Arthur suddenly laughs, earning a little giggle from Molly, a sound that George had never heard fall from his mother's mouth.

"I couldn't resist your mother when she was pregnant, just something about it," Arthur trails off as if he's daydreaming, a nostalgic smile plastered on his face. "The second she popped one of you out I wanted to try again."

George wants the ground to swallow him up in his entirety as he sits disgusted and uncomfortable. Was nowhere safe anymore? He finds his appetite has significantly decreased and is thankful that he'd finished the sandwich quickly; only praying he could keep it down if his parents kept talking about that.

"It's entirely biological son, it's what the muggles call 'hormones', or so I'm told. There's just something about seeing your wife carrying your child..." Arthur shakes his head slightly as he daydreams, a goofy smile still hanging off his lips as Molly swats his arm playfully.

"I'm going to bed," George mumbles, wanting desperately to get away.

"We'll keep it down tonight!" Arthur jokes earning a cackle from Molly as they both laugh at Arthur's attempt at humour. George grumbles the entire way up to his old bedroom, holding back a shudder at the very thought of not only his brother and y/n but now also his parents.

I need to move away, he thought.

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙺, 𝚂𝙴𝚃, 𝙶𝙾!

description - maz's 'friend' is the no.1 400m runner in the world, she needs to prove that at the world champs. if she does, maz will hard launch

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maz pacheco x female reader

disclaimer - i am not in anyway assuming Maz’s sexuality this is all just fiction

warnings - fluff, elude to sex and that’s it i think xx

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y/n just posted

Liked by, racheldaly3, maz_pacheco and 1.2 million others

tagged racheldaly3, maz_pacheco, jordannobbs, leahwilliamsonn and 11 others

y/n I promise I am training hard... 🫡

view 472, 888 comments

username1: hahahahhahahahah😭

username2: Why does she know the womens football world??????

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username3: She and Rachel Daly grew up together !! And she is close with Millie Bright and Maz Pacheco

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username2: Ooooooh Thanks !

racheldaly3: I so think I could do the 400m 🤷‍♀️

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mbrighty04: You can't even count that high stfu

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y/n: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH 😭

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racheldaly3: 😡😡

username4: Whooooooooo! 💙💙💙

username5: Gold for sure! 🥇🥇🥇

username6: So excited !!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳

leahwilliamsonn: Go on our girl - so excited to see you run! 🩷🩷

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y/n: 🩷🩷🩷

maz_pacheco: <3

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y/n: <3

teamgb: Come on y/n!!

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y/n: ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

username7: 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

username8: I DREW Y/N !! PLEASE CHECK IT OUT

jordannobbs: Chickyyyyy 🐣🐣

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y/n: Jordyyyyyy 🐣🐣

see more comments...

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maz_pacheco just posted on her story

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twitter/X:

username1: Anyone seen Maz's story????

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username2: I think a load of the Villa girls and Lionesses are there supporting y/n!!!! 🥳

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username1: Ahhhh Thank you!

username3: y/n is so fit omg 😝😝

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username4: The fact she walked out of the intro just grinning and waving! 🥺🥺

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username5: The lil hair flick UGHHHHH

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username6: THE ABS??? 😰😰😰

username7: Anyone see y/n and Maz's little wave

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username8: Their friendship is so cute omg 🥺

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y/n breathed a deep breath out, trying to keep her composure, her stomach was tight with nerves but as she looked over to her girlfriend she couldn't help but let out a small smile.

Maz was sat there, a smile on her face and as they locked eyes, y/n could almost feel her girlfriend's confidence in her flow through her.

y/n had been running most of her life, she found it freeing and exciting, she had set the world record for 400m, but with Femke Boll right on her shoulder she knew today would be a test.

The outdoor world championships were made to push, but y/n had to show that since her gold at the last Olympics her ankle injury had not changed her.

Truth was it had, every had seen her push through the finish line seconds ahead of everyone and then watched her go down in pain as her Achilles snapped.

It had been a long road to recovery, one of tears and upset despite the gold which was hung in her home, she had won but at what cost was the headlines everywhere.

y/n had been described as someone who had changed running, and now she needed to prove it. All of her qualification times had been slower than expected but still easy races.

It was clear she was not pushing herself to make quick times only qualify, and that had made the media wonder if the 23 year old still had it in her to run.

y/n had many things on the line here today as she prepared for the final. But the one she really cared about was Maz's encouragement that morning.

"You win, and I'll tell the whole world." Maz said with a grin, her arm tracing patterns on y/n's bare shoulder, kisses being placed into her hair line.

"Really?" y/n questioned, Maz nodding simply as y/n chuckled and pressed a kiss to her long-term girlfriend's lips.

"Well, I better win then." y/n smiles Maz leaning down to press a deep kiss against her just as the door opens.

"Separate and clothe please, I want my cuddles!" Rachel stated as she walked in, throwing a random top at y/n as the woman chuckled and pulled it on, her best friend landing next to her on the bed.

"3, 2, 1." Maz counted as the door opened again and Millie appeared, the Lioness landing the other side of Maz also.

"You know guys, this is a 2 person relationship." y/n had said and Millie snorted.

"No it ain't." Millie denied and the group shared a laugh.

y/n couldn't help but smile at the memory of that morning, knowing full well that Maz's promise had pushed her mind a little further as she set down.

She waited for the call, the crowd now dead silent, this was it, this was the final push. y/n breathed in, breathed out. The shot echoed, and y/n leapt.

Her feet pushed against the ground, her breathing regulated as she came into the first bend, she looked at nothing, heard nothing, not even Femke behind her, trying to keep up with the blistering pace y/n had set.

y/n did not look at the clock as she came down the back straight, she didn't hear the shouts from the crowd as their eyes continuously darted between the clock and y/n herself.

y/n continued, going around the final bend and into the home straight, she realised somehwat that she felt as if the race had gone quick, very quick.

"Come on baby!" Maz's voice brought her back into the race, pushing her legs harder as her lungs burnt and she raced past the line, the girl slowing her legs down as she collapsed onto the floor.

y/n's body shuddered as she tried to breathe, only just acknowledging the deafening cheers coming from the crowd as Femke got her yelling excitedly.

"Fe, what?" y/n asked with a pant as she got up, accepting the water throwing her way and throwing half of it on herself before trying to take small sips of the rest.

"Oh my god!" Femke grinned, turning her around to see the screen so y/n could see her time.

"HOLY SHIT!" y/n screamed, jumping back and running in shock. She collapsed on her knees, looking at the time in shock and someone wrapped a flag around her shoulders.

45.67 seconds - WR, WL, SB, PB

The crowd could now definitely be heard as y/n shouted in joy up at the sky. Photographers racing to get a photo of the new record holder who had almost matched the men's.

y/n leant down pressing a kiss to the track beneath her as she was helped up on shaky legs, throwing herself at the people around her who were just as happy for her as she was.

That was something y/n had always loved about competing. Those around her despite being from different places, were always as happy for each others achievements as the person themselves was.

y/n ran at her friends, Rachel and Millie dragging her into a hug as y/n tried to compose herself. Maz was next the woman leaning down and placing a kiss on her girlfriend's lips.

"Had to go an set a world record as well?" Maz asks her and y/n grins, pushing herself up and into Maz again, another kiss being shared with the cameras flashing wildly.

Millie and Rachel cheered with the girls around them, excited it was finally out and they no longer had to keep the hard to do so secret.

"Love you!" y/n called as she hopped down, Maz grinning as y/n ran off, flying the flag behind her as she celebrated and shouted with the crowd.

This was a race she would never forget, and the photos taken would soon be all over her and Maz's home, as the love shared was perfectly captured in a snapshot of victory.

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y/n just posted on her story

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maz_pacheco just posted on her story

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twitter/X:

username1: you know MAYBE ONE DAY we will all stop being idiots :)

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username2: na never gonna happen

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username3: THEY ARE SO CUTE THO 😩😩

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END

Tried my hardest with this but still not super happy can’t lie ! xxx

[half-of-a-gay]

Armor Between Us

Knight!Sevika x princess!reader

When political corruption, forbidden love, and an old enemy threaten the realm, Sevika must navigate her loyalties, her growing feelings for the princess, and the ghosts of her past to protect everything she holds dear.

previous chaper next chapter

Chaper 4:

The Gilded Cage

Reassigned to the princess’s side, Sevika finds herself trapped in a world of quiet elegance and gilded restraint. As the days turn to weeks, fleeting conversations and gentle gestures begin to forge an unexpected bond. Yet, beneath the surface, Sevika battles the weight of her oath—and the growing ache of something she cannot name.

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Sevika stood before the council chamber, her shoulders squared, her face carved from stone. The long hall was cold, lit by the weak light of dawn that filtered through the narrow windows.

It had been weeks since the battle. Weeks of slow, painful recovery in the infirmary, where her body had betrayed her at every turn. Her arm, though no longer wrapped in heavy bandages, was still bound in a sling, its strength lost. The scars on her face had healed enough to stop stinging, but they burned every time she caught a servant’s glance and saw pity—or fear—in their eyes.

She wasn’t whole yet. Not physically. Not in any way that mattered.

The king sat at the far end of the room, flanked by his advisors. They spoke in hushed tones, their words sharp and clinical, barely acknowledging her presence.

“…a matter of necessity,” one of the advisors said, his gaze flicking toward her like she was a weapon being appraised. “Sir Sevika’s injuries leave her unfit for the battlefield. However, her skills and loyalty remain… valuable.”

Sevika’s hand curled into a fist, her jaw tightening at the word “unfit.”

The king nodded, his expression indifferent. “Effective immediately, Sir Sevika will serve as the personal guard to Her Highness. She will remain stationed within the castle.”

Her chest tightened. Of all the outcomes she had imagined—discharge, exile, even some hollow honorary position—this was not the one she’d expected. A guard. A glorified sentinel for court politics and idle royal banter.

The battlefield was where she belonged—where she had proven herself again and again. But here? In the gilded cage of the castle, following the princess through marble corridors like a shadow? The thought made her stomach churn. A bodyguard. Babysitter to a royal.

It took everything in her to keep her voice steady. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

The king waved a hand dismissively, and the meeting was over. Sevika turned sharply on her heel, ignoring the murmurs of the council as she walked away. Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, each one feeling heavier than the last.

She hadn’t looked back at the princess, who stood in the shadows of the room, silent.

---

The first few days in her new role felt like wearing armor that didn’t fit.

Sevika’s life became a rigid routine: trailing the princess through the castle, standing guard in court sessions filled with endless, droning voices, and following her through sunlit gardens and shadowed hallways.

The princess tried to engage her—small attempts at conversation that Sevika deflected with curt answers. A comment about the roses in the royal garden. A question about whether Sevika had eaten that day. An invitation to sit with her at breakfast.

Each time Sevika declined with a cold politeness.

It wasn’t out of cruelty. Sevika simply didn’t know how to be anything else anymore. Her scars itched under the gazes of the nobles, and her left arm hung useless in its sling, a constant reminder of the life she had lost. She couldn’t afford softness, not here.

But then came the night the princess cornered her.

The corridor outside the princess’s chambers was quiet, lit only by the flicker of a single lantern mounted on the wall. Sevika stood at her post, her armored frame blending into the shadows, her eyes trained forward. She had spent every evening like this for weeks now, and though the weight of her armor was familiar, the role was not.

“Sir Sevika,” the princess’s voice called softly from behind the door.

Sevika straightened, her shoulders pulling back instinctively. “Your Highness?”

“Will you come in for a moment?”

Sevika stiffened. “My place is outside, Your Highness.”

The princess turned to face her, her expression unreadable. “You’re my guard, aren’t you? I think that means your place is wherever I am.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened, but she stepped forward, her boots heavy on the stone floor. She didn’t lower her gaze, but neither did she meet the princess’s eyes directly. “What is it you need, Your Highness?”

The princess gestured toward a small seating area near the hearth. “You’ve been at your post for hours. Please, sit.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sevika said, her tone as clipped and professional as ever.

The princess crossed the room slowly, her movements as deliberate and graceful as her words. She paused by the window, where the moonlight spilled across the floor, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.

“You don’t speak to me,” the princess said quietly, her tone measured. “You stand by my side each day. You follow me from court to garden to hall. But you say nothing unless I speak first.” She turned slightly, glancing at Sevika. “Is that how you see this arrangement? Just silence and duty?”

Sevika stiffened, her hand twitching at her side. “My duty is to protect you, Your Highness.”

“I see.” The princess’s voice remained calm, but there was something in her tone—a faint edge that Sevika couldn’t place. “And is it your duty to seem as if you’d rather be anywhere else?”

Sevika’s chest tightened, but her expression remained neutral. She chooses not to speak, not knowing what to say.

The princess studied her for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I notice, Sir Sevika. I notice the distance you keep. The way you refuse to look at me for too long. The way you speak to me as if you resent even being in this castle.”

Sevikas gaze shifted to the fire burning low in the hearth, its light casting shadows across the room.

“I do not resent you,” she said at last, her voice quieter than before.

The princess stepped closer, though still maintaining a respectable distance. “Then what is it you resent, Sir Sevika? The castle? The court? The crown? Your injury?”

The question lingered in the air, and for the first time, Sevika’s composure faltered.

She exhaled sharply, her good hand tightening into a fist. “If I have caused you offense, Your Highness, I apologize. That was not my intention.”

The princess tilted her head slightly, watching her. “There is no offense. Only… curiosity. I would like to understand the person who has sworn to protect me.”

Sevika’s throat tightened. Her gaze remained fixed on the hearth. “There is nothing to understand. I am here to do my duty. That is all.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but the princess didn’t press her further. Instead, she stepped back, her hands brushing lightly over the folds of her gown. “I suppose that will have to do, for now.”

Sevika inclined her head, her voice steady again. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“Good night, Sir Sevika.”

She turned and left the room, her boots echoing softly in the corridor. But as the door clicked shut behind her, a faint unease settled in her chest. She had seen something in the princess’s gaze before she left—something quiet and unspoken, but unmistakably sad.

Sevika clenched her jaw, her good hand brushing against the bindings beneath her armor where the handkerchief still rested. She didn’t let herself dwell on it for long.

Her place was outside the door. And that, she told herself firmly, was where it would remain.

---

The days bled into weeks, a quiet rhythm settling into Sevika’s new role.

At first, she kept her distance, answering the princess’s questions with clipped responses and maintaining her usual stoic presence. She stayed back as they walked through the gardens, kept her eyes fixed forward during meals, and remained silent in the shadowed corners of the court.

But the princess was persistent in her own gentle way.

One morning, she offered Sevika tea. “It’s jasmine,” she had said, holding out the porcelain cup with a small smile. “The kind I like best. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Sevika had stared at the delicate cup, so out of place in her calloused, battle-worn hands. “I don’t drink tea,” she had muttered, declining it with a stiff bow.

The princess hadn’t seemed offended. She simply tilted her head, studying Sevika with that quiet intensity that always made her feel exposed. “Maybe next time,” she said lightly, setting the cup down.

The “next time” came sooner than Sevika expected.

The princess began to draw her into small moments of conversation, asking about her life before the war, her family, her training as a knight. Sevika answered sparingly at first, her voice guarded, but something about the princess’s sincerity made it hard to stay silent.

On one quiet evening, as they walked the castle walls at dusk, Sevika found herself speaking more freely than she intended. She told the princess about her early days in the royal army—how she’d trained in the rain until her hands bled, how she’d sworn to never return to the humble village she had come from until she was someone worth respecting.

The princess listened intently, her hands clasped in front of her as they strolled. “You must have been very young when you left home,” she said softly.

Sevika nodded. “Fourteen.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Become someone worth respecting?”

Sevika faltered, her steps slowing. Her good hand brushed over the bindings on her chest where the handkerchief rested. “I thought I had,” she said quietly. “Once.”

The princess didn’t press further, but her eyes lingered on Sevika’s scars for a moment before she turned back to the horizon. “For what it’s worth, I think you are.”

The words sat heavy in Sevika’s chest, but she didn’t reply.

It wasn’t just conversations that softened the edges between them.

On one particularly cold evening, as the wind howled through the castle corridors, Sevika found herself adjusting the princess’s cloak before a walk through the gardens. She hadn’t meant to—it was instinct, something she used to do for her soldiers on the battlefield. But the moment her hands brushed the soft fabric, she froze.

The princess looked up at her in surprise, then smiled faintly. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm.

Sevika pulled her hands back quickly, muttering, “It’s nothing,” before stepping aside.

And then there were the quiet moments, when no words passed between them but the silence was comfortable rather than tense.

The princess began spending more time in the library, often seated near the large windows where the light filtered in just so. Sevika stood nearby, as always, but the sound of turning pages and the faint scratch of a quill became oddly soothing.

Occasionally, the princess would glance up from her books, offering Sevika a small smile that wasn’t quite so formal anymore. And, though Sevika never returned the gesture, she found herself holding the princess’s gaze a little longer each time.

---

The council chamber was buzzing with its usual noise—lords and advisors speaking over each other, their voices blending into a haze of politics and ego. The princess sat at the head of the room, her expression calm as she listened, her quill moving delicately across the parchment in front of her.

Sevika stood behind her, tall and imposing, her watchful eyes scanning the room. The subtle movements of courtiers, the soft rustle of fabric, the stray glances sent her way—all of it passed through her gaze like water through a sieve, nothing escaping her notice.

Her attention sharpened when her eyes landed on a man near the far side of the chamber. He stood stiffly, too stiffly, his head low and his shoulders tense. His hand twitched at his side, brushing beneath the folds of his cloak.

Sevika’s grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. Something about him didn’t sit right.

Then he moved.

The glint of steel flashed in his hand as he pushed through the crowd, and Sevika was already moving.

“Your Highness, get down!” she barked, her voice cutting through the chamber like a whip.

The princess startled, her quill dropping to the table as she turned just in time to see the man lunging toward her.

Sevika threw herself forward, her armored shoulder slamming into the assailant. The knife glanced off her shoulder plate with a screech of steel, but the man twisted, his blade catching the princess’s arm before Sevika could fully knock him back.

The princess cried out, the sound sharp and fleeting as she clutched her arm. Fury ignited in Sevika’s chest.

The man staggered, but Sevika didn’t give him a moment to recover. Her fist collided with his jaw, and he crumpled to the floor. Guards swarmed in immediately, dragging the man away as he sputtered incoherent protests, but Sevika barely noticed.

Her focus was entirely on the princess. “I’m fine,” the princess said quickly to ease the furrow in Sevikas brow, though her voice wavered as she clutched her arm. “It’s just a scratch.”

“It’s not nothing,” Sevika said sharply, her tone uncharacteristically tight. She reached out, her good hand brushing against the princess’s as she gently pulled it away to inspect the wound. “We need to get this bandaged.”

Before the princess could say anything else, Sevika already slipped her good arm around her waist, lifting her with practiced ease. The princess let out a soft gasp, her hand brushing Sevika’s shoulder for support.

The room erupted in frantic whispers as Sevika carried the princess from the chamber, but she didn’t care. Her focus was solely on getting the princess to safety.

Sevika eased the princess down onto the cushioned bench in the infirmary, her movements careful despite the tension in her body. Sevika dropped to one knee beside her, her heart hammering as her gaze fell to the thin line of red trailing down the princess’s arm. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

The princess flinched as Sevika pressed a damp cloth to her arm, but her lips curved into a faint, teasing smile as Sevika kept cleaning the blood from the shallow wound looking terribly worried.

“You look more worried than you should, Sevika. I'm sure you’ve seen worse in your time.”

Sevika’s jaw clenched. Her voice dropped, quiet and almost to herself. “Not when it’s you.”

The princess blinked, her expression softening. “What did you say?”

Sevika’s shoulders stiffened. She pulled back slightly, her stoic mask sliding firmly back into place. “Nothing. Just hold still, Your Highness.”

“You didn’t have to carry me,” the princess murmured, her voice soft.

“You weren’t walking fast enough,” Sevika replied curtly, though her touch was surprisingly gentle.

The princess’s gaze lingered on her, unspoken words dancing behind her eyes. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, her voice quiet.

Sevika froze, the cloth stilling against the princess’s arm. “It’s my duty,” she muttered, her voice low.

“That doesn’t make me any less thankful for what you've done,” the princess said softly.

Sevika didn’t look at her. She focused on bandaging the wound, her hands steady despite the storm of emotions raging beneath her calm exterior.

When the princess reached out suddenly, her fingers brushing against Sevika’s scarred cheek, Sevika flinched.

“You’re bleeding aswell” the princess said, her voice tinged with concern.

“It’s nothing,” Sevika said quickly, pulling away before the princess could say more. She stood abruptly, her good hand curling into a fist at her side. “Rest, Your Highness. I’ll keep watch.”

“Sevika…”

But Sevika was already stepping toward the door, her back stiff, her footsteps heavy. She couldn’t stay—not with the princess looking at her like that.

[zeezelweazel]

A fluffy Leah fic for her comeback???? Maybe r being the one to give her the armband when she gets subbed on or like Leah being shy when asking r to be there during her comeback game??

Leah Williamson| Welcome Home|

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LEAH GOT AN ASSIST ON HER FIRST GAME BACK

(I also hit 1k followers 🥹 thank you so much guys)

I wrote this just to get my mind off jilly so it's short, sorry but I'm so sad rn

Finally some fluff to cleanse all the smut

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You remember the day Leah tore her ACL vividly. You were on the bench, having been subbed off just a few moments before. Nothing compares to the feeling of absolute dread that filled your entire body the moment you saw her go down. When the stretcher brought her on the sidelines Leah looked at you her eyes wide and scared and you knew.

Her recovery was long and hard but you were there. For every small step forward and every step back, for every time she was angry or frustrated or sad you were there. To hold her and brush your fingers through blonde strands of hair and whispers sweet nothings in her ear and kiss her forehead. You loved her when she didn't love herself and you kept loving her as she got stronger and stronger. You watched as she picked up different hobbies and did amazing things she never thought she'd do.

And now you watch as she gets up from the bench to warm up and your heart soars. You grin wide as you try to keep your head in the game but your body is buzzing with excitement at what's to come.

Soon enough you hear the crowd soar and you look at the bench to see Leah, smiling free and happy, ready to take your spot on the field. You didn't care about being subbed off, having done your part, so you run towards her. You carefully slipped off the captain's armband and approached her.

The loud stadium was tooned out as your whole world turned into blonde hair and blue eyes. As you reach the white line you take Leah's hand, holding it longer than necessary, and you slip the arm band on. Leah pulls you in for a quick hug and you don't waste the opportunity to place a chaste kiss on her head.

For the rest of the match your eyes are firmly locked on Leah. You watch closely as she sprints around and goes for tackles, because of course she does, and you watch as she puts in the perfect ball for beth to score. She was perfect in every way even after being gone for so long. Only your Leah would be able to do that.

You jump up from the bench to celebrate, probably too excited for a goal in a match that's already been won, and you wish you could run on the field and scoop her up in your arms.

And that's what you did. The moment the final whistle blew you made a beeline for Leah who was already looking for you. When your eyes met you recognised all those different emotions swirling in her blue irises.

You pull her in for a tight hug, Leah giggling happily as you spin her around.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did amazing."

Leah smiled at you blushing and placed her head on the safety of your shoulder. She stayed there in your arms until the team had to huddle in a circle while Jonas gave his post match celebratory speech. You squeezed Leah's shoulder from your place next to her when he talked about her injury, her recovery and the fight she had to put up to get here. Leah blinked rapidly, her head moving from the sky yo the ground as she desperately tried to fight off her tears.

You moved your hand to rub her back and Leah gave you a grateful smile even though the tears didn't leave her beautiful eyes.

"You did it baby, I couldn't be more proud."

She turned and placed a kiss on your lips, not caring about the rest of the team. You enjoyed the warm feeling of her lips on yours and the soft hands on your hips. You chuckled at the cheers and whistles of your teammates and leaned your forehead on Leah's.

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[leclercsredhelmet]

Sweet Nothing ✰ Joe Burrow

A/N: Hi! I'm back with another Joe blurb! I was inspired by the bridge of Sweet Nothing to write this, I hope you guys enjoy it!

“They say the end is coming, everyone is up to something. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings” 

Life with Joe is like a rollercoaster of emotions, it’s a bit of a whirlwind but you’ve grown accustomed to it. Much like any other relationship, you guys have your ups and downs but you always have a way to manage through them. Recently you had to deal with his unexpected injury, the road to recovery was a little complicated but you managed to pull through it, and now that you’d both eased into your previous routine everything was smoother than before. 

Now that the season is quickly approaching people are starting to talk and the topic of interest is your relationship, much to your and Joe’s dismay the conversations are varied and most of them are not positive. For the most part, you’ve both done well to drown out the noise and ignore it but this time you’re finding it hard to drown out everything because the attacks are coming right at you. 

Joe’s been the talk of the town ever since his runway debut for Vogue World, there’s been a lot of positive feedback and you’re so thrilled for him. As expected you accompanied him on the trip but didn’t partake in anything runway-related. Still, people found time to criticize you for existing and for enjoying some time alone in the city. 

The rumor mill went crazy saying things that ranged from you not supporting Joe and deciding to go off on your own, that it was a pr-relationship which frankly makes no sense to you because you’re not famous in any sense, and of course; the classic rumor, that you and Joe had broken up. 

It was all utter and total bullshit but still, some of the comments were getting to you and it was making you retreat into the shell you have slowly been stepping out of. 

Reaching for your phone you made the mistake of checking the comments on your most recent Instagram post. Many of them were people questioning the validity of your relationship status, but the ones that hit the most were the ones commenting on your body and whether you’re suited to be Joe’s girlfriend. 

“Babe, give me the phone,” Joe gently says. You look up to see him extending his palm, “It’s fine,” you reply and your voice comes out a little strangled as you choke back a sob. Instead of waiting for an answer, he takes the phone from your hand and reads the comments before setting the phone down. 

His jaw clenches a little and by the expression, you can tell he’s not fond of the comments. Swiftly, he pulls you into him and wraps his arms around your body. Not helping it you just start crying, his grip never falters and he just lets you cry while holding you in his arms. Gently he lifts your chin and wipes your tears.

“It just gets too much to handle sometimes Joey,” you say. “I know baby, but these comments don’t have anything on you okay,” he tells you. “It’s just people projecting their insecurities onto you and I know those words sting but they’re untrue okay? I love you for you; always have and always will,” he says.

You nod and hug him again, “I love you so much,” you say into his chest and he chuckles a little. “I love you the most,” he replies and kisses your head softly. “Listen, I propose a phone-free day for us,” he says. “What are you suggesting?” you ask him. “Hiking your favorite trail,” he says. Smiling you kiss his cheek, “There’s that smile,” he says poking your cheek and you giggle. 

It’s sunny and the breeze combs through the leaves and they rustle lightly. Adjusting the backpack on your shoulders you wait for Joe before starting the trail. “It’s so quiet,” you say while walking. Joe is beside you and he smiles, “We needed this kind of quiet,” he says with a smile. Chuckling lightly you look at him. “We did, there’s no gossip, no soul deconstructors,” you say and he laughs. “Just us and nature,” Joe says. Laughing you place a kiss on his cheek and pay attention to the nature that surrounds you. 

Once you spot the view of the Ohio River you know you’ve reached the end of the trail. Dropping your backpacks you drink some water before standing next to Joe. His arm is around your waist and you lean into his side. “Listen, I want to you know that no matter what people say I wouldn’t change this or you for anything else,” he says. You let out a big breath and look up at him, “I know. Sometimes I just can’t help but feel like I’m here next to you by mistake,” you say with a small laugh. 

Joe turns to you and caresses your face, “You could never be here by mistake, just because there was someone else before you it doesn’t mean we’re a mistake,” he says gesturing between you with a finger. You hesitate before speaking but Joe beats you to it. “Hey, I can see the gears up here turning,” he says tapping your temple and you chuckle. 

“Finding you was the best thing that’s happened to me so far, you’re fucking amazing, smart as hell, kind, honest, stunning, and a great person,” he says. Laughing you look at him, “So I’d be dammed if I didn’t tell you how lucky I feel to have you here beside me, and anyone that criticizes you and what we have without knowing a single detail can go fuck themselves,” he says and you let out a hearty laugh. 

“You’re right, these people are just throwing stones into the void,” you say. “Exactly,” he says before kissing you sweetly before pulling you into a hug “I love you so much,” you say into his chest. “I love you most,” he replies and you chuckle. “Do you feel better now?” he asks, “Much better, I really needed to get out of the house,” you say and he laughs. 

You go down the trail and decide to get some lunch at your favorite spot in town. As you listen to Joe talk with and move his hands around you smile and think about how lucky you are to have found someone who is attentive, kind, caring, fun, and someone who doesn’t stop at putting a smile on your face. Sure, the atmosphere surrounding you both may get a little too heavy, or too much to handle sometimes but there’s no one else you’d rather go through it all with. 

Whenever all these outsiders say that you should be doing more, you find yourself running to Joe in search of sweet nothings.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[cooneyscross]

can you please do an r x kcc where r and kyra are like best friends but then r does her acl and then they don't see each other for ages and in the time they don't spend together kyra starts to realise that she feels somethinf for r and then when r comes back to camp kyra starts acting differently and then r finds out or something along the lines of that sorry if thats too confusing

Missed You More - Kyra Cooney-Cross

kyra cooney-cross x matildas!reader

summary: Your back in camp after a long ACL recovery but your best friend kyra's acting strange. warnings: injury, kind of angst ig? not really anything else except terrible writing, its just a lot of yapping

'Chelsea winger Y/N L/N has just collapsed and is holding her knee, she looks to be in a lot of pain. A stretcher is being brought on to the pitch for her now showing that this isn't a minor injury. Could she have done her ACL? If so that would not be good for her hopes of playing in the upcoming world cup on home soil for the Australian.'

Scans confirm the worse for Matildas and Chelsea star, Y/N L/N, as it has been revealed the young forward has ruptured her anterior cruciate ligament in recent game against Leicester City. Her hopes to play in the world cup next year very slight as she begins her long road to recovery.

The image of her best friend falling to the ground still haunts Kyra even now 5 months later as she sat on the bus heading to their camp in England after their disappointing loss to Scotland two days ago ending their 7 match winning streak. It was the final camp before they headed home to Australia to prep for the upcoming world cup on home soil. The words of the commentator still replay in her head constantly reminding her of the heartache she felt for her best friend. In every news article she read their was always something about how the matildas star forward, chances of making the squad for the world cup were getting slimmer as time passed, it had consumed all her social media. Her constantly reminding her of the moment you had called her after your scans tears streaming down your face as you broke the news to your best friend about the results.

Of anyone in the world, Kyra knew better than anyone just how much it meant to you to be representing your country in a world cup on home soil, you had left home and travelled halfway across the globe to play for Chelsea at only 16, giving up most of your teenage years to be the best player you could. It broke her heart to just imagine how you would be feeling during this time.

In the thousands of facetimes they'd had together you had always tried to stay positive, always laughing at something and sharing stories about your time in England. But Kyra could see through the facade, nothing would get past her, you'd been best friends since you were fifteen when you both played for Melbourne Victory together. She knew how hard it was for you, you didn't have any family with you and Kyra hadn't been able to visit you as her season with Hammarby had been to busy to have enough time of to sneak in a trip to London.

Since you had been out injured, Kyra's mood had been very down. All her matildas teammates had noticed almost immediately when she had not pulled a single prank throughout the entire cup of nations tournament. The public noticed soon after when photos of the teams celebrations were posted and Kyra was hardly smiling in any of the pictures, preferring to keep to herself in the locker rooms after wins.

Kyra is pulled out of her trance when she feels her phone vibrating from the seat next to her she grabs it and sees an incoming call from you, she answered being greeted by your grinning face.

'Hello Ky.' You called happily at her whilst you walked back from Cobham, after your first full training session back with the team. You had a coffee in your hand and had a scarf wrapped around your shoulders, dressed in a large Chelsea puffer jacket with your hair pulled up into a messy bun strands blowing around your face from the strong wind. 'Sorry, I'm a mess I have a photoshoot in just over an hour so I'm in a rush.' You tell her, but Kyra didn't think you looked a mess she thought you looked beautiful, but she thought you were always stunning she never told anyone about how she felt, she thought it would be weird to go around saying how good you looked.

Kyra hadn't told anyone, but in the time the two of you had been apart Kyra had begun to feel differently towards you but she tried to hide it not wanting it to be awkward. She couldn't stop thinking about you her thoughts often wondering back to your cute smile or your laugh which you hated but she loved. Recently she'd been prioritizing your facetime calls over important stuff she was meant to be doing and whenever you did something Kyra felt like a millions butterflies were flying around in her stomach.

At first Kyra was scared of these feelings but she'd accepted them just thinking it was because she missed you a lot and when you came back from injury everything would go back to normal. It couldn't just be her that thought you were the prettiest person alive, surely anyone in their right mind could see that right?

'Kyra Lilee Cooney-Cross? Are you still there? Helloooo earth to Kyra...' you loudly spoke into the phone, pulling Kyra out of her trance and she blushed after realising she had been staring at you all this time.

'Sorry 'bout that.' Kyra says embarrassed. 'How are you? Did the scans go alright?'

'I'm good, the scans went well. My physio said that my rehab is going really well and I'm actually ahead of the schedule and...' A huge grin spreads out on your face, 'I could even be back for the game against Leicester on the 11th which means I'm allowed to play in the world cup. But that's only if Tony choses me.'

'Are you kidding Y/N/N? That's amazing, I'm so proud of you, and of course Tony's going to choose you for the world cup if your back in time, he'd be stupid not to.' Kyra matches your energy a grin spreading over her face. 'We better start planning more pranks on the girls for when you come back. I think Steph should be our first target.' You laugh, and Kyra can't help but feel that familiar giddy sensation in her stomach as your laughter fills her ears.

You plan pranks you can pull together before you notice the time. 'I got to go now Kyra. But I just want to thank you so much for your support, I seriously couldn't have been where I am today without everything you've done for me.' Kyra grins, rolling her eyes.

'Don't be silly, I did nothing, you did all the hard work. I just did whatever any best friend would do.' She tells you brushing it off as if the hours she spent on the phone with you even if it was just you talking to her while you were doing your rehab were nothing.

'Well thanks regardless. I owe you big time' You tell her, knowing that she spent so much of her time helping you. 'But I really got to go now. I love you bye.' You tell her blowing a kiss she tells you goodbye as you hang up the phone leaving Kyra on her own again.

time skip to after the england game

'Yes Cha Cha.' Kyra says leaping on her best friends back followed by Mini who was had Harper on her back. She wrapped her close friend in a tight hug placing a joking kiss on her cheek swinging her around to celebrate the girls first ever goal for the Matildas. The trio and Harper stay a while celebrating the win against England.

Despite the adrenaline pumping through Kyra's body, she still felt like something was missing. You and Kyra had always talked about how one day the two of you would play in Wembley together and all the things you'd do once you won and it made Kyra sad that you weren't here to celebrate the win. 'You alright kiddo?' Mini asks Kyra placing a soft hand on her back watching as Mackenzie Arnold and Charli Grant chased harper around on the grass.

'I dunno, it's complicated.' Kyra says not wanting to talk about it right now, knowing it sounded stupid.

'Is it about y/n?' Katrina asked the younger girl and Kyra looks at her in shock of how she knew so quickly about what it was about.

'How'd you know?' Kyra asked slightly embarrassed.

'I'm basically your mum Kyra. I know you better than you'd think.' She says teasingly 'Plus ever since y/n's been out, you've been acting differently, everyones noticed. And we're all worried about you Kyra. I know you miss your best friend but everyone's going to get injured from time to time, you can't let that affect your game.'

'It's more than me missing her. I can't stop thinking about her, she's actually taking over my mind. And I've been getting all these weird feelings, like whenever she calls me I get butterflies in my stomach, and she's so pretty, and sometimes I'd rather be on a call with her than do anything else. I don't know why I'm feeling this way mini, it's scaring me. I don't want to ruin our friendship because I have these weird and stupid feelings.' Kyra huffs tears threatening to spill.

'Kyra, have you ever maybe considered you might like y/n?' Katrina asks the younger Aussie.

'Of course I like her Kat, she's my best friend are you stupid?' Kyra says to her mother like figure confused at her logic.

'I mean, have you ever considered you might like her more than just a friend.'

'But she's my friend, I can't like her like that. I'll ruin everything.' she speaks fast worried about if what Mini is saying could be true.

'It's not the end of the world to have a crush Kyra.' Mini says soothingly, patting Kyra on the back. 'Everyone has a crush on someone, and you don't even have to tell her how you feel if it worries you too much, but from what I've noticed I'm pretty sure she likes you too.' Mini whispers the last part before noticing harper faceplanting on the floor, running off to check on her daughter. Leaving Kyra to take in everything Katrina said. It made sense now, everything she was feeling.

time skip to pre world cup

The Matildas had started arriving to prepare for the upcoming world cup. Much to much of the publics surprise you had made a record return being welcomed back into the squad for the world cup, grateful that Tony still chose you even though you weren't even close to the form you were in before your injury. You were arriving to camp a few hours later than everyone else with Sam, meaning that when you arrived late that evening everyone was always eating dinner, you hopped out of the car, feeling gross from the long flight and jetlag kicking in.

'wait her y/n/n. I'm gonna get everyone excited for their favourite player to be back.' You only half comprehended what Sam told you but waited outside until you heard Sam shouting your name. You slowly walked into the room dragging your suitcase behind you, your mood brightening when you walked into the room filled with all your teammates clapping.

'Hey guys.' Is all you say unable to say much more from tiredness and shock that you were back so much sooner than you expected. People laugh before starting to make their way towards you. Steph's the first person to pull you into a hug, whispering how proud she is of you into your ear, everyone else shortly follows saying similar stuff to Steph. Macca is one of the last people to embrace you.

'I would like to say I'm the most excited for you to be back but I'm afraid Kyra probably wins that competition.' You laugh at her before comprehending the fact that you hadn't gotten a hug yet from your best friend. 'Where is Kyra anyways?' You ask Mackenzie, she smiled at you and it was almost like a scene from a movie the way she stepped aside to reveal a tired looking Kyra standing behind her.

No words are spoken between the two of you until her arms are wrapped around you. 'I've missed you so much.' You tell her

'Missed you more.' She responds making you laugh slightly.

'Are you ready to do the plan for steph.' You ask her a cheeky grin spreading on the two of your faces as you pull away to face each other.

'never been readier.' You both laugh before alanna pulls you away from each other.

'You've only been back together for less than a minute and your already planning something.' she says sternly ruffling your hair and you both give her an innocent smile, something you always used to do when people suspected you of something. 'well go eat something, then go to sleep. you look awful y/n.' You roll your eyes scoffing.

'Wow Lani, you're kinder than I remembered.' You laugh as she shoves you away.

'Just eat kid.' In the small time you speak with Alanna you don't notice Kyra head back to the table and go back to eating without another word.

'You ok Kyra?' Mini whispers to the midfielder.

'Yeah Ky, I thought you would want to be spending every second with y/n/n, you've been waiting for her to get back for like ever. She's all you ever talk about.' Charli basically interrogates her friend who looks visibly uncomfortable causing Mini to kick the number 22, sending her a stern glare that gets her to shut up. Kyra didn't expect it to feel so awkward to be back with her best friend, but she couldn't stop thinking about her and Mini's conversation after the England game. She didn't want to ruin their friendship because of her silly emotions so for now she planned to keep quieter around y/n and try distance herself.

i will be doing a part 2 soon

[moonshynecybin]

no but what if there was a rosquez soulmate au where you feel each others pain and have each others scars etc? first of all vale wouldn't be able to deny his connection to marc anymore because he would have big ass scars all over his arms! would have to think about marc every time he's wearing short sleeves or is shirtless! and secondly vale would constantly be in just as much pain as marc is! his arm over the years, maybe the deal with the diplopia, maybe the emotional pain caused by the divorce and the whole aftermath as well?? i would looove watching him suffer knowing that he's either part of the reason for the pain or knowing that he's done nothing to try to alleviate the pain by maybe just being there for marc..

i DOOOO think if vale was in any way beholden to the risks marc takes and the pain he is in literally daily he would just hate him. it would not even be sexy hate it would be resentment 9000, so im gonna put the kibosh on the pain SHARING... but THAT being said, the visuals of them having matching scars is so fucking sexy to me so we can go with THAT...

like. everyone can see!!! everyone knows!!!! because its written across their fucking SKIN and precisely no one will acknowledge it. academy boys presscorp rosquez THEMSELVES... also vale is someone who has comparatively smaller scars, so its gonna be mostly scars accumulated by MARC. explicit ownership in a way that is not necessarily reciprocal and is EXCRUCIATINGLY PUBLIC. marc literally writing on his skin. unbearable. and maybe vale starts to figure it out when marc's hand injury happens in 2015 during summer break and hes doing shit like showing vale his scar and wellllll... WELL... we all know how that ends BUT. only vale knows it lmao. marc oblivious and heartbroken and he doesnt even KNOW...

and then theres marc's shoulder surgeries. and his stupid pizza burn during lockdown (where theyre locked on a video game oriented zoom call ignoring each other as best they can and vale is sweating BULLETS trying not to let his wrist show up on camera)

and then jerez 2020. and suddenly vale is walking around with his arm looking fucked uppp. and vale been ignoring all of it for YEARSSSS but the scars keep piling up!!! and marc isnt here hes in recovery/arm rehab and the paddock feels WEIRD and EMPTY and DIFFERENT and he doesnt know what to do with all of it... he has to start wearing a lot of long sleeved hoodies... watching new jagged lines appear on his arm.... until its 2022 and hes out of motogp and a lil out to sea (still thinking about him car racing less not to hang out with his young family but to hang out with PECCO next season. like what the HELL.) and marc is posting pics at the mayo clinic and the BIG scar appears on their skin and suddenly he cant really ignore any of it... thumbing over the ridge of it and feeling a bunch of contradictory emotions... and then MARC only finds out when someone paps a photo of vale in short sleeves with the edge of his shirt riding up a lil and his fucking stomach drops OUTTTTT because he would know the exact contours of those scars anywhere. and then being his regular direct ass self and showing up at vale's doorr the next time hes in the paddock like. HOWWWW long have you known.

[herofics]

Hi do you do requests for continuations of fanfics you did 5 years ago😭.

For contacts it is the one about Aizawa's adopted kid gets killed in a villain attack, I don't know if you're long over that but I was thinking if you did continue it could it be like other student's reactions🙏. (love your works btw❤️)

A/N: Oh I will gladly write some more for that. I just picked some characters and mashed them all together into HCs. The post mentioned is this one (I think at least). Thank you for liking my stuff :D

•When Aizawa carried your lifeless body out of what was left of the dorms, everyone was already in shock from what had happened, and your death certainly didn’t make things any easier

•The police and paramedics had been alerted and teachers were pouring to the scene to help and make sure everyone was alright

•Almost everyone else had gotten out with only minor injuries, except for you

•The whole class was quiet, some because of the shock, some because they were showing respect

•You were put into an ambulance and taken away, even though no one could help you anymore, Aizawa wanted to go with you, but he also had a responsibility to his class, so he decided to go to the hospital later

•”Is everyone okay?” he asked as the rest of class-A stood there quietly

•Everyone muttered something akin to a “yes” but no one knew what else to say

•”They pushed me out of the way” Midoriya said

•As if he doesn’t carry the world on his shoulders already, the blame he placed on himself for what happened to you was certainly enough to drive anyone past the breaking point

•Aizawa assured him that it wasn’t his fault, but how could it not be? If he just had better control of his quirk, if he was as fast as All Might, you wouldn’t be dead

•There was a lot of buzz outside the school as to how it could have happened, how does a student get killed in the UA dorms?

•The whole class and Aizawa were so tired of hearing all the theories and the media blaming everyone but the actual culprits

•The whole class brought something for your desk in the class, candles, incense, flowers, food, things like that

•It became a sort of shrine to you

•The whole class was understandably distraught about what had happened, but your closest friends were the most messed up about it

•Bakugou didn’t yell at anyone for at least two weeks, he just muttered to himself whenever someone annoyed him

•He knew heroes die on the job all the time, but you weren’t a hero, you were a student

•It drove him to train harder, study harder, so next time something like this happened, maybe he wouldn’t feel so fucking useless

•Midoriya got the worst of it, he blamed himself, no matter how much everyone else told him it wasn’t his fault, he just wouldn’t listen

•He too started training harder, developing his quirk and his control over it, he didn’t want this to happen again

•In a way you motivated the whole class to be better, get stronger, it just sucked you had to die for that

•Yaoyorozu started practicing more extensive first aid after that, she took some courses outside of what the school offered, and started taking lessons from Recovery Girl too

•Some of the class followed her example, such as Uraraka, Tokoyami, Asui and Todoroki

•Yaoyorozu also made sure to learn how to make certain medicines, hemostatic gauze and things like that with her quirk, that could help in a situation like what happened to you

•His students efforts brought some light into the dark time Aizawa was going through, and the little shrine on your old desk was a nice gesture

•Even though it was sometimes a painful reminder, it was also a reminder of how much you were loved by your classmates and friends

[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.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

The journey to recovery begins now.

Heres the next part! ✌🏼

Let me know what you think? I have a lot of time on my hands currently unable to move much, so this is the result!

Credit to @alotofpockets for giving me the courage to continue to write!

Pairings: beth mead x teen reader, vivianne miedema x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You never truly appreciated how much you took your knees for granted until it was too late, leaving you to confront the stark reality of their absence during the grueling weeks that followed after your surgery.

The initial stages of your rehabilitation post-surgery, each day felt like an uphill battle against the constraints of limited mobility. Every single step was a painful reminder of your body’s fragility, which left you teetering on the edge of frustration.

The simple tasks you once took for granted now felt like insurmountable challenges, even the thought of walking a few steps sent a wave of discomfort radiating through your knee, serving as a constant reminder of your newfound vulnerability.

Reflecting on the moment that led to this predicament, you can’t help but regret it as your knee injury could have been avoided. Perhaps if you had chosen a different path that fateful night, the outcome would have been drastically different.

“Where are you off to?” Viv’s concerned voice broke through your thoughts, she had virtually been watching over you like a hawk since your return from the hospital.

“I’m just going to the toilet” You muttered, struggling to get up from the sofa but you were just too stubborn to ask for any sort of help.

Vulnerability was something you’d never dealt well with, it was a trait that was deemed unacceptable in your previous harsh upbringing. Weakness was a luxury that you couldn’t afford, it was a lesson that had been ingrained in you from childhood.

You could practically hear the stern cold voice of your biological father as if he were standing directly behind you, whispering into your ear.

“Do you need a hand?” Beth’s offer was laced with genuine concern, finding it difficult to watch you struggle unwillingly.

“No” You snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface; You hadn’t meant to be so horrible, it was just sometimes easier to revert back to a defensive coping mechanism that you had been conditioned to over the years as you grew up.

“Just know I’m here if you need me” Beth’s reassurance hung in the air, a lifeline amidst the uncertainty.

“Just shout for us if you need anything, okay?” Viv chipped in, reminding you as she watched you limp off in the direction of the bathroom, although there was a weight of worry lingering incase you somehow hurt yourself in there.

Beth noted her girlfriends’ vigilant gaze and softened her expression, “She’ll be alright, Viv. She’s only gone to the loo, remember?” she joked, amusedly.

“I know, I am just worried in case she aggravates her knee or something” Viv admitted her concern, anxiously biting her bottom lip, “She really needs to be cautious” she added.

“It’s okay to be worried, but we have to let her do things for herself” Beth replied, offering comfort to alleviate her girlfriend's anxiety about you, “If needs help then she’ll shout, remember?” she reminded her.

Viv folded her arms, still visibly worried for you as she tried to listen out in case there’s a sudden slip in the bathroom, “I just can’t help but feel anxious, Beth. What if she hurts herself in there?” she repeats her worries.

“I understand, liefje” Beth placed a comforting hand on Viv’s shoulder, “But we have to let her have some independence too. We can’t smother her with our concerns” she explained to the Dutch woman.

“You’re right, I just need to remind myself of that– I just hate that she is going through this. It’s not fair” Viv mumbled, shaking her head.

Beth gently took a hold of Viv’s hand and squeezed it, “It really isn’t fair, but we’re going to do all that we can to support her, every step of the way, no matter what” she declared.

Deep down, you knew your injury wasn’t anyone’s fault, yet your reflex was to just continuously push your loved ones away once more. 

Despite your attempts, it seemed futile, especially with surprise visits becoming a regular occurance.

Apparently, today was no exception.

Unable to start your rehab anytime soon, you found yourself wrapped up in self-pity on your bed, cocooned in blankets and lost in a Netflix TV show that you had zero interest in but since your remote has gone AWOL, it left you with no choice but watch it, but at least Myle was there for company.

“Y/N/N/! We’re here!” Kyra’s unmistakable voice cut through the air, announcing her arrival.

“Kyra, she might be asleep” Alessia’s voice followed through, a touch of caution in her tone.

“Well, she might not be” Kyra retorted, barging into your room with her usual typical energy to find you awake, “See, Less? Told you that she wouldn’t be asleep!” she grinned back at the blonde.

“Wouldn’t have much chance with the way you’re shouting” You mumbled, acknowledging both of their presence.

Alessia offered an apologetic smile, “Hey, Y/N/N. We just wanted to come and see how you’re doing” she explained.

“Oh, you know? I’m fantastic” You words are laced with sarcasm.

“Well, we brought snacks” The blonde attempted to lift your dampened mood, gesturing to the bag of the treats that they had brought you.

“Wonderful” You barely entertain the idea of the sugary treats as you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, disinterested.

“I can tell she’s definitely excited about that” Kyra mocked your enthusiasm, taking hold of the bag from Alessia’s hands.

Alessia shot Kyra a warning look before turning back to you, concern etched on her face, “Hey, Y/N/N, are you okay? Truthfully?” she questioned.

“Just fuckin’ peachy” You sighed dramatically, still refusing to meet their gazes, dismissing them with a wave, “How’d you guys get in, anyway?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Beth let us in before she left” Kyra explained, perching on the end of the bed.

“Oh” You mumbled in agreement.

“Someone’s feeling grumpy today” Kyra teased, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she started to delve through the bag and pull out a packet of sweets.

You snatched the packet away, tearing it open with unnecessary force, “Wouldn’t you  be if you couldn’t walk with out assistance?” The frustration was evident in your tone of voice.

Kyra raised her hands in mock surrender although the mischief still sparkled in her eyes, “Noted. I’ll steer clear of touchy subjects” she quipped, exchanging a glance with Alessia.

Undeterred, Alessia took a seat beside you, mindful of your injury, “I get it that you’re frustrated, Y/N/N” she said softly, attempting to connect with you.

You rolled your eyes with the irritation simmering, “Well, excuse me for not being in the mood for a pep talk” you remark, your tone sharp.

“Come on, lighten up, mate” Kyra interjected, reclining against the bed’s end with a playful grin.

Ignoring her, you continued to sulk, stuffing more sweets into your mouth  with unnecessary force, not in the mood for conversation.

Alessia sighed as her concern deepend, “I just… I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to. We know what you’re going through is difficult right now” she ventured cautiously.

“I don’t want to talk about it” You snapped, your frustration boiling over, “I just want to talk, that’s all I want. I want to be able to get out of this damn bed and feel normal again!”

“Well if you’re looking for a miracle, I think you’re in the wrong place” Kyra couldn’t resist a quip to wind you up.

“Kyra” Alessia’s reprimand was gentle but firm, signaling an end to the teasing.

A tense silence settled over your room, broken only by the sound of your frustrated sighs and the crinkle of the sweet packet that Kyra continued to help herself too.

“Listen, Y/N/N, we’re here for you, okay?” Alessia told you with a gentle voice, “Whatever you need, whether it's someone to talk to or just in silence together, we’re here” she stated, determinedly.

You met her gaze, your eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and gratitude, even if you were sometimes way too stubborn to admit it, “Thanks, Alessia” you muttered, the harshness of your voice starting to dull as you realised that it wasn’t any good to take your anger out on your team mates, who only wanted to help you.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Kyra leaned forward as her playful demeanour was replaced with genuine concern, “Seriously mate” she said, her voice uncharacteristically serious, “We hate seeing you like this. Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.

You hesitated to answer, you were torn between your desire for independence and the comfort of having your friends by your side, “I don’t know” you admitted finally, your voice wavering slightly, “I just… I just hate feeling so helpless, you know?” 

Alessia reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as she gently pulled you into her embrace, “It’s okay to feel that way” she said softly, “But you’re not alone in this. We’ll all help you get through it together” she promised you.

For a moment, the weight of your injury felt a little lighter, the burden now shared amongst your friends who refused to let you face it alone.

“Thanks, Lessi. Thanks, Kyra” You mumbled, burying your head in her chest as you allowed yourself to lean on them for their support, knowing no matter how tough the road ahead might be, you wouldn’t have to walk in alone, “Could one of you please pass me the remote? I don’t know what I’m watchin’ but it’s so boring” you muttered, complaining which made the two of them laugh.

© scribblesofagoonerr