#she feels so distant but i don't want that. i don't want us to be like that

[oikarma]

don't look back in anger

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: she knows it's too late as she's walking on by. or: all the times you have talked to max verstappen since that night.

a/n: more angsty than the first part? a lot more written stuff 🤕 sorry if you don't like that kinda thing.

part one

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liked by f1 and 3,279,148 others

kellypiquet: To us, and to many more years together 🤍

tagged: maxverstappen

view 69,501 comments

user1: oh my god it's happening!!!

user2: about time he put a ring on her finger...they've already had a kid together

user3: eh eh, eh eh, i just want it to be you

user4: can we normalize not bringing up people's exes in the comment sections of their new partners? user5: @/user4 max and yn weren't even exes get your facts right user3: @/user4 what 😭 it's a cute song and they're getting married user6: my chronically online ass cannot comprehend how people like yn's songs but don't know about the lore behind them

yourinstagram: congrats, kelly! * liked by kellypiquet

user7: maybe max is the problem guys. user8: @/user7 like if his situationship and his fiance can get along so well.. user9: i would crash out if my ex best friend slash maybe soulmate commented on my fiance's post and said congrats to HER and not me user10: women supporting women 💪

user11: the ring is so pretttyyy

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ONE.

The sun has started to dip, gold strokes across the pearly white decor. Around you are guests and heightened murmurs. Of course they're excited: it's Max Verstappen's wedding. A world champion among the greats.

You're still standing there, left by a few guests who wanted to offer their thoughts on your music. Their words were kind and well-meaning, but all they did was remind you of how queer it was. That you were at Max and Kelly's wedding. Sweat beads pile on your forehead, threatening to ruin your makeup; the dress feels heavy, too heavy. It might suffocate you. You straighten your back and take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out.

"You came."

Max's voice is low and hesitant, but it easily breaks through your train of thought. His words are just placed out there, like he's not sure if he has a right to say them at all. They sit there in front of you, an ache, a question.

There's a knot in your stomach. This was a bad idea.

"Kelly invited me." Your voice is steady, yet it sounds distant. Like someone else is speaking your lines for you, making things alright. You don't want to be here anymore. Not like this. "What did you expect? That I wouldn't show up?"

Max's hand trembles. He wants to step closer, you think. But he can't. Not like this. Not now.

"I didn't know if...you'd want to see me," he stammers.

You stiffen at his words, remembering the clear boundaries between the two of you. The paparazzi aren't here: it's a private event, at his insistence. But there are others, others who are watching and listening Max Verstappen talk to the girl who wrote an album of songs about the love she could not return him.

A sharp breath escapes your lips. You don't want to deal with this. Not now, when you're both standing on the brink of something final.

"Max, this is Kelly's wedding." Your voice hardens. "Your wedding. She’s about to marry you. So whatever you think this is—whatever it was—it doesn’t matter anymore."

Max looks at you, his jaw tightening. An old habit, you remember, as he chews back the words he can't say aloud. A part of you wants to reach out to touch his face.

It's up to you, as it always has been. He wants to say something, to reach for the words that will make you understand, but he knows it’s too late for that. The realization dawns on his eyes. The past is too tangled, too complicated. And Kelly is waiting for him to be by her side.

"I never meant for things to end like this." His voice cracks slightly, and it’s clear that the weight of your history is crushing him. He takes another step forward, almost against his will. "I asked for too much. I'm sorry I hurt you."

The silence between you two feels thick, stretching longer than it should. Max’s eyes soften at your words, but you can see the hesitation in him, the part of him that wishes he could do more, be more for you. Enough.

And it hurts in a way that you don’t want to admit. Not here, not now.

You should walk away. This conversation isn’t for this moment. But you can’t move. Your feet are cemented to the ground, and Max is standing too close.

"I just... I miss you," he whispers, his voice breaking under the weight of the noose he's never fully escaped.

A shiver runs down your spine at how raw his voice is. Your chest tightens.

There it is. That thing you’d been trying to ignore. You miss him too. In ways that make no sense when you look at him, standing there, about to tie his life to someone else.

You wish things were different. You wish that you could let yourself feel what he’s offering. You’ve wondered, countless times, if you made the wrong choice. If you had let yourself fall, would it have been easier? Or would it have just destroyed you both in the end?

Max shifts his weight, his gaze never leaving yours, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the hope flickering there like it might ignite. It almost makes you want to step forward.

Almost.

But you know better. You can't.

"I..." You swallow, your voice rough. The words scatch in your throat. "I can’t do this, Max. Not now."

His face falls.

You hate that you’re creating this distance, but you have to. It’s the only way to stop both of you from falling back into this mess you've never cleaned up. Writing your songs was supposed to help and it only worsened your what-ifs.

You force yourself to breathe again. "You're about to marry Kelly. You can’t look back at me now, Max."

A long silence hangs between you two. Max opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You know the truth. Sure, you've asked yourself if your intuition was right. But you know. You’ve always known.

You can barely hear him when he lands the last blow. "I never stopped loving you."

It's too real. He's struggling and you can hear it in his voice. This was a bad idea. This is his wedding. You can feel your walls crumbling at his words, the things you’ve buried beneath the surface shaking loose, but you push it all back down. You have to.

"Don't," your voice cracks. You can't hear anything but your own words and your heartbeat. "Please don't."

The two of you stand there. Life keeps moving forward, people laughing, and you think the piano is going to start soon. It's going to mark Kelly's entrance. And Kelly's entrance it is, into Max's life. For good.

For good.

You have to walk away.

And you take that first step back, away from your first friend. The first thing in your life that fit like it was made for you; never to be broken apart.

It still doesn’t stop the ache in your chest, but it's the right thing.

Max breathes in behind you, such a staggered sound it could be a plea for help.

You move toward your seat, hoping he will not look upon this moment too badly. That one day, in the future, his anger will have left him and he will realize this was your last act of love: to help him, even when it means breaking his heart a little bit more.

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liked by lando and 1,792,164 others

f1gossipofficial: Lewis Hamilton was spotted this weekend in Monaco hanging out with Y/N L/N. They collaborated on Y/N's debut album, even sharing a kiss in the music video for "toxic to the end." Is a romance brewing? And how does Max Verstappen feel about all this?

tagged: yourinstagram, lewishamilton

view all 61,382 comments

user1: oh...max..

user2: oml he's literally MARRIED he's OVER. HER. it was four years ago. why does no one understand?

user3: this feels so intrusive but whatever. why are you taking pictures of them grocery shopping together 😭 let them live their life

user4: i love how lando is casually liking this.

user5: @/lando WHAT DO YOU KNOW lando: 🤐

user6: i literally said this as soon as the mv dropped. Y/N girl you have the sexist man alive as your friend MAKE A MOVE

user7: they have such good chemistry though!! did you see the rimowa interview??? same vibe, they're so adorable user8: so much better than her and max...am i right?

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r/PopCultureChat · 1 day ago hemsworthss

Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet calling it quits.

You might call me insane. You might say nothing official is out, but I think this might be true. As of October 2025:

Kelly unpinned both the pregnancy and the marriage announcement on her account. This is odd: she's had both up there since she made the posts. It probably isn't a matter of her clearing her feed or anything, because her Vogue shoot is still pinned. I looked for the post on her account and it was GONE. I looked for the pregnancy post on Max's account and she was no longer listed as a collaborator. Max was never a collaborator on the marriage announcement.

She's been posting a lot with P and the young 'un, but Max isn't in any of them. In his Team Redline streams, Max is always alone. Neither of his kids has appeared. Judging from the locations on her posts, she and her kids are on vacation in Europe.

Kelly wasn't at the last two Grand Prixes. She posted a story of her watching one on the couch but that was it. Neither of her kids were there, either.

Max has been posting more recently and he's been spending time with friends over family. Lando has him in a few dumps: playing paddle, Max even holding a guitar. Who plays guitar? Y/N L/N but that's not the point. Max is learning new hobbies and spending alone time.

I think I'm right. And if DeuxMoi has anything to say about a famous athlete/model couple filing for divorce, I'm placing my bets on Max and Kelly. Thoughts?

dannyric03: I don't want to believe it. He's so happy with the kids. Fatherhood suits him well.

↳ AppleBiter12: But fatherhood and marriage are different things. I thought maybe they got married because they thought the child would bring them closer. And it didn't.

hamiltons8th: I don't know. It seems debatable. Maybe they're just taking a break. It has been a stressful season so far.

↳ FantasyFox719: Right. But Max loves his kids, of course he'd want to spend time with him. I can't think of why he wouldn't spend his time between races (as he normally does) with his family instead of colleagues. ↳ hamiltons8th: @/FantasyFox719 Well him and Lando are best mates, something like that. I do think it's odd he's not with his kids. Maybe Kelly suggested it.

PeacockJazz450: Unrelated but did you see the news about Y/N and Lewis?

↳ hemsworthss: I did, actually. I think they're a very cute couple (if they're dating) that complement each other's personalies and goals very well. Lewis is very career-focused and so is Y/N. Love both of them lots. Even if they're friends I'm sure it's a great relationship. ↳ PeacockJazz450: @/hemsworthss Lol. I agree. Maybe Max crashed out after seeing that and decided he needed a break too 😂 There was this one tweet going around that was like "Imagine winning in Abu Dhabi 21 but losing the love of your life to the man you beat." ↳ hemsworthss: @/PeacockJazz450 Oh that's diabolical. Celebrity drama is bad enough but so many of the drivers are bops and their dating life is mildly concerning. Very interesting though. ↳ PeacockJazz450: @/hemsworthss At least Y/N hasn't dated anyone that we know of. I hope it folds out well.

ApplestoApples: if it's true that's such a shame. they've only been married for a year or so.

↳ 5_vettel: Agreed. But celebrity relationships never seem very stable.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

kellypiquet has added to their stories

[ caption: family first 🧑‍🧒‍🧒 ]

replies:

user1: the one parent?? the two kids?? KELLY DID YOU SPLIT

user2: uh oh...

user3: max what did you do this time

user4: hope you're okay queen!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by ladygaga, lewishamilton and 3,184,932 others

yourinstagram: left the door open and this DIVA walked through 📢 "APT." is out now & you can watch it live at my burnout mini tour!!

🔗 tickets on sale at ynln.com/live

tagged: brunomars

user1: new album? y/n??

user2: BRUNO DELIVERED OH MY GOD

user3: first lewis now bruno how is she getting all these icons for collabs 😭 actually insane her team must be working overtime

brunomars: don't forget to drink dance shower and freak

user4: not him saying shower instead of smoke lolol bruno being a responsible man as always

user5: i hear the dating rumors

user6: max verstappen. did you see the kiss? i bet you saw the kiss

user7: watch him block you on insta user8: two more boys y/n has kissed now and none of them are called max verstappen!

user9: could not be more proud of you queen 🤍 from starting an acting career, to dropping an insane album, and to collaborating with huge artists. i'm sure you'll keep doing great things and no one can stop you. * liked by yourinstagram

user10: what does this mean for her and lewis ☹️

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TWO.

The crowd is still screaming as you scramble down the stairs, face flushed and out of breath. Sweat clings to your skin and your chest rises and falls, the adrenaline still coursing through you. Everything feels infinite, all the love shown out there drowning out your doubts and your past.

"Hell of a show you put out there, rockstar."

Lewis Hamilton leans against the table with your glass of water on it. His arms are crossed, an easy grin on his lips. He's dressed like he belongs here—which, admittedly, he now does.

He already knew about the concert: you couldn't wait to tell him when Bruno. Mars. Called. You. It wasn't exactly good timing, him just finishing the Mexico City Grand Prix the day before, but he came anyway. And dressed impeccably, at that.

You let out a breathy laugh, grabbing the glass. "You're just saying that because you got backstage treatment."

Lewis chuckles. "You know I mean it. You were unreal. When's the album coming out?"

"Hold on, hold on. Don't rush me. Give me a podium celebration first, will you?"

He tilts his head and you can't quite breathe. He says you were unreal but he's unreal. It still shakes you, sometime, how such a wonderful and caring and completely perfect man picked you to be his...friend.

You keep it at that word for now, but appreciate how good he looks with shades pushed back into his braids.

"Depends. You up for a champagne shower?"

Nothing flusters you like Lewis's quick wit.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. "Not in this dress, I’m not."

Lewis chuckles, his gaze lingering on you for half a second longer than necessary. "Shame. Would’ve been a pretty memorable moment. We'll have to reschedule."

You're aware of how close he is. How the conversation feels lighter than it should. How his presence is grounding in a way you don’t often get anymore. Your thoughts are wandering again, eyes tracing the curve of his mouth and—

The air shifts.

It’s subtle, like a drop in temperature. Like something's pressing against your ribs. You feel the presence and you know exactly what it is.

(Or maybe it's the fact that your team has gone completely silent. No more hurried congratulations and squeals in the background.)

Max.

He’s standing just a few steps away, lacking his usual Red Bull gear. His hair is all messed up, as if he got off a plane and came straight here. His jaw is set, his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes flicking between you and Lewis. There’s something there—something simmering behind that calculated look of his.

Your grip tightens on the water bottle.

"Didn’t expect to see you here, Max." Your voice is even, but it takes effort.

He exhales sharply, shifting his weight. "You think I'd miss this?"

The words are simple, but the matter is not.

Lewis, ever observant, stays exactly where he is—relaxed but present. "Didn’t know you were a fan of good music, mate." His voice is smooth. Yet deliberate. You can't do this right now. Why does he have to show up whenever things in your life are getting good?

Max’s gaze flickers to Lewis, and for a second, something almost like amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth before disappearing just as quickly. "I've been listening for years."

It lands heavier than it should. Your pulse jumps and both of them are probably aware of it. Max isn't talking about the music.

Max’s eyes stay on you, searching. "You didn't think I'd come, did you?"

You exhale carefully. "I didn't...invite you."

Max’s jaw tightens. "Well. Here I am."

It's too much. The weight of his words, the way Lewis is next to you—grounding, solid, present—and Max is just there looking like he's trying to figure out how everything slipped through his fingers.

The air between the three of you stretches, taut and fragile. Max’s words still hang there—Well. Here I am.

You shift under Max’s stare, your grip tightening on the water bottle still in your hand. Your throat feels dry.

"What do you want me to say, Max? That I expected you to come? That I thought about it?"

Max exhales sharply. It pierces you like a knife. "I don’t know. Maybe." His voice is lower now, almost bitter. "You never wanted to talk about it."

His voice is rough when he speaks again. "Tell me you don’t think about it."

You are acutely aware of Lewis's presence, but Max is slowly taking over your thoughts.

You inhale sharply. It's all you can do. "Max—"

"Tell me you don’t wonder."

Your throat tightens.

You do. You have.

Some nights when the lights are off and the city finally shuts itself up, you let yourself think about it. About him and the moment he kissed you. The way his voice cracked when he said your name.

But you also remember the fear. The way you couldn't have let yourself fold—not then.

And now?

Now, Lewis is here. Steady and patient in ways Max never was. Lewis, who has never asked you for anything more than what you could give, who doesn’t need you to be anything other than what you already are. Lewis, who will let himself be just a friend. Lewis...

You glance at Lewis instinctively. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something softer in the way he looks at you. He understands.

This, Max notices.

His jaw clenches, the vein in his neck jumping. His hands curl into fists at his sides and then relax so fast you could've missed it. Is it for show, all of this? Does he want you to think he cares or not? He exhales, looking away for a brief second. Just enough to compose himself. When he looks back, something about him is more guarded.

"Right," Max says, much quieter. He nods, more to himself than to you. "I get it."

But the problem is that you don’t think he does.

Despite everything, despite Lewis, despite the way you had chosen to walk away.

You still...

Max lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Because it’s never the time, is it?"

Not this. You flinch, because he's right. You don't want to talk about it. How he kissed you, drunk but so eerily sober in the way all his thoughts came out at once. The weight of everything in between the two of you spilled over, something you weren't ready for. About how, even now, sometimes you catch yourself missing him before you remind yourself why you had to leave.

The fear is back.

Your whole life had began to shift, focusing on you. Y/N L/N, rising actress. People talked about you...and your friendship with Max. What it was. And if you had let yourself feel something for him—if you had let yourself fall—what would have been left of you?

"There was nothing to talk about," you say. It's hollow, like another word could crush it into smithereens.

Max's mouth purses into a thin line. "That’s bullshit. You know it."

You're too aware of the people in the room, again.The way Lewis is still there, watching but not interrupting, not yet. The way Max is standing too close, and yet not close enough.

You shake your head, only able to reiterate all the things you've already told him. "This isn't the time for this."

Lewis shifts beside you then, speaking for the first time in minutes. He's had enough. His voice is calm, smooth, but there’s something sharper beneath it. Water over rocks, threatening to split the waves any minute. "If you're looking for something from her, maybe you should ask yourself why you didn’t do it when it actually mattered."

Max turns to Lewis, his posture stiffening. There's a respect between the two, but spite typically taints it. Now? No malice—just frustration, just regret. Just something ugly and old between all of you.

You close your eyes for half a second, steadying yourself. When you open them, Max is looking at you again, waiting.

But he’s always been waiting, hasn't he?

And you?

You’ve always been running. From what? you wonder now. From something real?

Something has changed. Now you're not sure if you're tired of running or just afraid of what happens when you stop.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

kellypiquet and maxverstappen have added to their stories

replies:

user1: so it was true??

user2: praying for you kelly <3

user3: 5 bucks it has to do with y/n and whatever he did when he showed up at her concert

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THREE.

The coffee shop is cozy, the kind of place you go when you want to be alone with your thoughts. You're sitting at a corner table, flipping through your phone. Doomscrolling, they call it.

It’s been a while since you last saw Max—months, maybe. His divorce from Kelly was all over the media, and yet, here you are, sitting in the same coffee shop as him. The silence is louder than any of the questions you had when the news first broke.

You didn’t expect to run into him today.

You'd also thought you were over all of it. Buried, deep down. But when his voice meets your ears, it's all coming back.

"You still like this place, huh?" Max sounds like he's been thinking about his question for a while.

Glancing up, surprise flickers across your face. "Max...didn't expect to see you here."

He stands there for a moment, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. You feel the awkward tension rising like steam from your mug.

“You’re hard to avoid these days,” Max says, his words coming out almost casually. "Guess we keep bumping into each other."

You raise an eyebrow, setting your phone down. “We never really bumped into each other before.”

Max’s lips tighten for a moment. Caught. “No. I guess we haven't."

Neither of you move. Then, Max steps forward, hesitating just slightly before sitting across from you.

“Nice seeing you. Didn't expect it to be here."

You nod slowly, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah...well, things change."

Vulnerably flickers in his eyes. You haven't seen that in a while. "They do," he agrees.

It's unfinished, this mess between you.

"I know things got complicated," Max continues. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I didn't mean to make it worse but I did."

You want to say something—anything. But the words are stuck. Everything: the kiss, the distance, all the memories you've shared. They're all under the surface, waiting for someone to make sense of it all.

Instead, you try to find your footing. "Max...what are we even doing here?"

Something like the Max you used to know. He's less guarded, less distant. "I don't know. But I don't want things to be like this. No forever."

You swallow hard. You want to respond, but there's too much going on in your head.

Max breaks the silence. Again. This time, he's more quiet. "So, what about him? Lewis?"

The way he says it makes you wonder. Jealousy? Not that, he's past that. But it's a question wrapped in old pain. He wants to know. He always has.

You lean back in your chair, letting out a soft sigh. "What about him?"

Max’s eyes are searching. "You're...close. Do you, I don't know, care about him?"

The answer isn't as simple as either of you would like it to be. There's a part of you that wants to spill out all the feelings. That you don't know. Still don't.

"He's good to me. I don't know what else you want me to say."

It's not the answer he wants to hear, but he nods anyway. "Yeah, I get it."

The past is complicated, and the present is no less so. There's a peace with Lewis. But Max...Max has a way of making everything feel unresolved.

You bite your lip, unsure if you should talk more. You want to say something that makes sense, that will give both of you the closure you need. The truth is, there's too much unsaid. Unresolved. It's sitting there, loose strings and all.

"Maybe we never had the chance to figure it out. It wasn't just about what we felt, Max. It was everything else too."

His expression tightens. Like the words aren't forming right. The old ache is there in his words, in his face. They never healed. "I was an idiot, wasn't I?" he mutters.

You shake your head, not wanting to dwell on that when he's already beat himself up for half a decade. "We were both...confused. We had different things to figure out."

You can't place the look in his eyes. "Maybe. But I was never just confused about you. I was scared of losing it all. Of losing what we could've had."

It hits you in the chest. Then, the words come out before you can stop them. "Max...we shouldn't leave it like this. I don't want to leave it. Again."

"So what does that mean?" His voice is hopeful, though he has his doubts.

It won't be the same. That's impossible.

"I don't know. We'll have to figure it out." You hesitate before taking out your phone. "Maybe we can...talk more. Not lose touch again."

A smile breaks across his face, though he tries to hide it. "That sounds good. I'd like that."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

did you like this? i wanna make a part three. it's like...closure but not completely, you know? there's still a lot for them to deal with and also lewis! beautiful beautiful lewis! messy max or lovely lewis ? 🤨

[deansbeer]

♡ a hunter's journey to fatherhood ⎯⎯ dean winchester.

📖 LIBRARY !

SYNOPSIS. dean struggles with anxiety about fatherhood, avoiding you until guidance from mildred helps him embrace love, vulnerability, and hope.

WARNING(S). slight angst | hurt comfort | f!reader | anxiety | self-doubt | dean's fear of failure as a new father | emotional vulnerability | moments of crying | mentions of childhood trauma (a big FUCK U 2 john winchester) | alcohol use (though not excessively) | avoidance | isolation | pregnancy.

kari talks ◞ i saw these gifs of dean n mildred pop up on my feed this morning so i had to write something w a lil fluffy angst <3 don't hate me bc it does have a happy ending !!! + this may sound rushed, has not much dialogue at the end, n repetitive :) my apologies !

dean winchester is an anxiety-riddled mess.

you’ve always known he’s carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but ever since you told him you were pregnant, he’s been distant. not outright cold, but the kind of distant that eats at you—quiet moments stretched too long, averted gazes, and excuses to leave the room.

it hurts.

you knew dean had his doubts about himself; he’s never been shy about the scars his childhood left behind. but you didn’t expect him to pull away like this.

every time you thought about asking him where he stood—whether he was happy, scared, or maybe regretting it altogether—you stopped yourself. you didn’t want to burden him more than he already seemed to be.

so you busied yourself with little things, distracting yourself by cleaning the house, organizing your shared bedroom, or just sitting on the couch with a book, hoping he’d come around.

but tonight, dean isn’t home.

he’d slipped out a few hours ago, mumbling something about needing air. you didn’t push. you’d seen the tension in his jaw, the way his hands flexed and tightened at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

what you didn’t know was that dean had driven into town, parked the impala outside the local dive bar, and gone inside to drown his thoughts in whiskey.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

the bar was dimly lit and half-empty, perfect for someone who didn’t want to be noticed.

dean sat at the counter, nursing his third drink, his mind spinning.

he couldn’t stop thinking about it. about you. about the baby.

him, a dad.

he snorted bitterly into his glass. what the hell did he know about being a father? he’d barely survived his own childhood. john winchester had been a lot of things—strong, determined, relentless—but a good dad? not even close.

and what if dean turned out just like him?

the thought made his chest tighten, panic clawing at his throat.

he closed his eyes, swallowing hard. the whiskey wasn’t helping; it was only making his emotions come faster, harder.

he slammed a couple of bills on the bar top and left, walking out into the cool night air.

he sat in the impala, gripping the steering wheel as his breath hitched.

and then it hit him—hot tears stinging his eyes, rolling down his cheeks before he could stop them.

he wiped at his face angrily, cursing under his breath.

what the hell is wrong with me?

but then, through the fog of his thoughts, he remembered mildred baker.

she’d helped him and sam on a hunt years ago, and she’d been one of the few people who’d ever managed to get through to him. she was kind, wise, and had this way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when it felt like the world was falling apart.

before he could second-guess himself, he started the car and drove to her place.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

mildred greeted him with the warmth he hadn’t realized he needed.

“dean winchester,” she said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in. “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

he hesitated for a moment, standing in her doorway like a lost kid.

“uh... sorry for showing up so late,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “i just... i didn’t know where else to go.”

she frowned slightly, concern flickering across her face, but she didn’t ask questions.

“come on in,” she said gently, motioning for him to sit on the couch.

once they were seated, mildred folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently.

“so,” she said after a beat, her voice soft. “what’s got you all tied up in knots?”

and that’s when it all came tumbling out.

words spilled from dean’s mouth faster than he could stop them—about you, about the baby, about how terrified he was of screwing everything up.

“i just... i don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “hell, i don’t even know if i can do this. what if i screw the kid up? what if i screw her up? she deserves better than me. they both do.”

mildred listened quietly, her expression soft but unreadable.

when he finally stopped, his chest heaving slightly from the emotional release, she reached over and placed a hand on his arm.

“dean,” she said gently, her voice steady. “you’re not your father.”

his head snapped up at that, his green eyes wide and vulnerable.

“but what if i am?” he whispered.

she smiled softly, shaking her head.

“you’re not,” she said firmly. “you’ve already proven that by coming here tonight. you care, dean. you care so much it’s eating you alive. and that’s what makes you different. john winchester loved you boys, but he didn’t know how to show it. you do. and that’s all that matters.”

dean swallowed hard, his throat tight.

“but what if i mess up?” he asked, his voice small.

“you will,” she said with a chuckle. “because that’s what parents do. we mess up. we’re human. but as long as you love that baby and love itd mama, you’ll figure it out.”

her words settled over him like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in his chest.

“you’re gonna be a great dad, dean,” she said, her voice soft. “just follow your heart.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

later that night, after mildred helped him sober up, dean drove back home.

the house was quiet when he walked in, the only sound coming from the soft clinking of dishes in the kitchen.

he followed the sound, stopping in the doorway when he saw you standing at the sink.

you were wearing one of his old flannels, the sleeves rolled up as you washed the few remaining dishes from dinner.

he leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment.

god, you were beautiful.

even now, with your hair slightly messy and your focus on the task in front of you, you took his breath away.

he took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and stepped toward you.

you didn’t notice him at first, too lost in your own thoughts.

it wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around you from behind that you startled slightly, your body tensing before relaxing into his embrace.

“baby,” you said softly, your hands stilling in the soapy water.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

“where’ve you been?” you asked, your voice gentle but cautious. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “i’m okay.”

you didn’t push for more, not when he mentioned he’d gone to see mildred.

instead, you leaned into him, letting his warmth settle around you like a shield.

he rubbed small circles on your stomach, his lips brushing against your neck.

and for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope.

but when you opened your mouth to ask him where he stood on the baby, he didn’t let you speak.

instead, he started rambling, the words tumbling out in a rush.

he told you how scared he was, how he’d been afraid he’d ruin everything, that he’d turn out like his dad or disappoint you.

“but i want this, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice breaking slightly. “i want you. and i want this baby. i just... i needed to figure out how to not screw it up.”

tears stung your eyes as you turned to face him, cupping his face in your hands.

“dean,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “you could never be like him. you love so much, sometimes too much. you’re going to be an amazing dad. i know it.”

he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as a single tear slid down his cheek.

“thank you, baby,” he whispered.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

after you’d finished the dishes, you drew a bath for the both of you.

you knew he’d been sore and achy from a recent hunt, and you figured the warm water would help.

he sat behind you in the tub, his arms resting on either side of the rim as you leaned back against his chest.

you brought the soapy cloth to your chest, letting the warmth soothe you before handing it to him.

he took it, running it over his own chest before reaching down to gently rub your shoulders.

the quiet intimacy of the moment was enough to ease both your minds, the tension of the past few weeks melting away.

when the water started to cool, dean helped you out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy towel around you before leaning down to kiss your stomach.

you weren’t even showing yet, but the gesture made your heart swell.

he wrapped a towel around himself, and the two of you went through your nightly routines before climbing into bed.

dean was already lying down when you joined him, his hands behind his head as he waited for you.

you turned off the lights and crawled into bed, settling on top of him with your head on his chest.

his hand rested on your lower back, the other cradling the back of your head as he pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

the two of you talked quietly about what to expect, about names and nurseries and everything in between.

and when you finally drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you knew everything was going to be okay.

because dean winchester was going to be the best damn dad in the world.

[katarandaa]

The Augmentor part 1

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Pairing: F! reader x Sevika

Set in season 1 between act 1 & 2.

Augmentor: Someone who specializes in augmenting the human body with mechanical or Shimmer-enhanced parts.

Summary: You’re a well-known augmentor in Zaun who - through your sibling Ran - take on a special commission to make Sevika a mechanical prosthetic after her accident.

CW: alcohol use, swearing, smoking,

Word count: 4.2k

AN: this is my first Arcane fic! It's a bit long, but I'm FINALLY happy with it after working on it slowly for WEEKS. This is basically just my MDD universe lol. (There will probably be a part 2). Hope you enjoy ~

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The music from your speakers was blasting in your workshop, you were bopping your head to the beat while working on a rusty prosthetic leg a customer had dropped off for you to fix. Smoke filled your nostrils as the cigarette you put out in your ashtray didn’t completely extinguish. You didn’t hear the elevator doors open and someone entering your workshop until the volume of your music dropped. You quickly turned around to face the elevator to see Ran through your goggles standing by the speaker.

“Ran!” You propped the goggles you were wearing onto your head and smiled at seeing your sibling dropping by for a surprise visit. “Didn’t expect to see you in here today. Your hand need a fix?”

“Hey, no, I actually have something to ask of you,” Ran said as they made their way down the steps into your shop. You put your tool down and spun around on your stool to face Ran, inviting them to keep talking.

“So, you need to hear me out on this one, YN - I need you to do a commission, -” Ran said and leaned on one of your workbenches.

“I don't know Ran; you know I don't really do commissions anymore. Just doing repairs is so much better,” you said the second you heard them say commission, turning your attention back to fixing the metal leg laid out on your workbench.

You had stopped accepting commissions after overworking yourself, and now you ran your business only doing repairs and occasionally some modifications for people who already had mechanical prosthetics. Doing commissions wasn’t easy work, it took months of work, long hours, loads of people involved and a lot of planning, so you decided to take a step back and work on a much smaller scale.

Ran walked closer to you. “It’s an important request, and I seriously need you to consider doing this job. I told them about your work. We really think you’re the best augmentor in Zaun for this job.” Ran flexed their prosthetic hand, which you had made for them several years ago. You sighed again and glanced at their hand before continuing your work.

“It’s a request from Silco - Sevika needs a mechanical prosthetic,” your heart jumped at the sound of her name. “I know you heard of her accident. They know of your previous work, and they want you to do it; they specifically requested you. The pay is really good, it’s from Silco’s pockets, so you’ll be compensated for your time and hassle, and then some.” Ran really tried to sell you this gig, and you could feel the desperation in their voice. “And I know you have a thing for Sevika, you know-”

“I do not!” you interrupted Ran and snapped your head in their direction. “What makes you say that?!”

 “YN, she’s totally your type, and I’ve noticed the way you look at her and act whenever she’s nearby - you get all stiff and nervous.”

You stayed quiet for a moment. “Is it that obvious?” You almost whispered.

“To me it is,” Ran smirked.

You had met Sevika several times at The Last Drop whenever you were out drinking with Ran or your friends. You had never really spoken, but you knew that she knew who you were; all the shared glances, the drinks sent to your table, thanking her by raising your glass in her direction, your blushing and fiddling. You had always been too nervous to approach her; she seemed to distant, and so unattainable.

“Fuck,” you muttered and couldn’t help but crack a smile. “ I don't know. It’s always too much work doing commissions - the clients always have way too high expectations, they never respect the timeframe I give them, they don't pay what they owe. It’s always such a hassle,” you explained, sliding the goggles off your head and running a hand through your hair. “Plus, if it’s for Sevika I’m gonna be all nervous, what if affects my work and I don't deliver her a good product?”

“YN, it’s gonna be fine. Just do what you’re good at. Please just come meet with them, have a chat about your conditions and the pay. I already told them I would talk to you and bring you in for a meeting tonight.”

You tilted your head back and sighed hard, looking over at Ran. “Ok, fine,” you said, and Ran quickly muttered a quiet “yes”.

Ran came running towards you and wrapped their arms around yours. “You’re gonna do great, I know it.” You wrapped your arms around Ran and squeezed before getting up, both of you disengaging from the hug. “And, maybe you and Sevika can get to know each other a little better-”

“Ran!” You interrupted them and hit them playfully on their arm. “Inappropriate! She’s my customer at this point.”

"Alright, fine,” Ran chuckled. “Just, don't promise them anything you can’t deliver. And don’t let them rush you.” Ran squeezed your arm.

“Don't worry, I won’t. Let’s just go.”

-

The atmosphere at The Last Drop was calmer than usual. The last time you visited was to get a few drinks after work with Ran on a busy night. The same night you had seen Sevika sitting at her usual table, cards in hand and a hefty sum of coins in front of her, the other men around the table looking stressed out with their heads in their hands.

Ran leads the two of you through the bar and up the stairs towards Silco’s office. Outside the door were two guards keeping an eye on the people passing by. They saw Ran and opened the door for the two of you, one of them following you inside.

Inside the office, Silco sat at his desk, and Sevika to your left, sitting on the sofa, a cigarette in her mouth and a whiskey bottle and a glass on the table in front of her. You also noticed that her hair was down, and not in her usual half up half down hairdo; it looked good - maybe even cute.

Ran greeted the two with a nod and closed the door behind you.

“Ran, good to see you,” Silco said from the other side of the room, a cloud of smoke swirled around him from his cigar. “This is the augmentor?”

“Yes, sir. This is YN. She’s agreed to come talk over some terms and hear more about the job.” Ran said and sat down at a round table to the right side of the room. You were stood in the middle of the room as you felt Sevika’s eyes on, leaving your stomach in knots.

Silco looked over at you and stood up from his chair behind the desk and walked in front of it. “Alright. What are these… conditions?” He pointed his hand, which had his cigar resting between his fingers, towards you for you to speak.

“Well, first of all, I’m gonna need to know exactly what you’re commissioning,” you said and put your bag on the floor beside the low table to your left. “I’m assuming it’s not just a mechanical prosthetic.” You crossed your arms over your chest and peeked at Sevika, your eyes met for a brief moment before you looked away, to her left arm, or whatever was left of it, which was covered by her cloak.

Silco quickly took the word: “You’re right. It’s going to be used for fighting, as well as just being a prosthetic. Enhance its strength with shimmer, in a way that makes it more responsive and lethal. Find a way for shimmer to be injected into Sevika’s bloodstream in small doses. Obviously it needs to be sturdy and durable; it needs to withstand blows and return them twice as hard. The attachment needs to be secure - no risk of it coming loose, but make sure it's flexible enough for her to move freely. You’re making a weapon, not an ornament. This sound like something you could do?”

You suddenly felt a little nervous having everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your response. You looked at Silco.

“Of course, not a problem. But if I am to agree to this, I have a couple of terms. I have my own team of doctors and surgeons who are experienced with installing mechanical prosthetics. And if you want the commission to be done faster, I expect a supply of shimmer. I also want one month pay up front before starting the mech.”

Silco was looking at you as you named your terms, almost threatening. “And a few free drinks from your bar would be nice... Sir,” you added. You heard a light chuckle from Sevika at your last comment.

Silco and Sevika exchanged a look before Sevika broke the silence. “Sounds like reasonable terms to me, sir.” She took a swig from her glass, finishing her drink.

“I can get behind your terms. But I need to know an approximate timeframe,” Silco said as he took a puff of his cigar.

“Usually for mechs like this, the planning and design will take about a week, the manufacturing of the arm itself will take anywhere from three to six weeks. Then there’s the installation, recovery and physical adaptation, which I’m guessing in total will be about three weeks at max, but I’m gonna have to hear with my doctors on that one. So, in total, if everything goes to plan, about two months. But with some shimmer, I will be able to work faster and more efficiently, and Sevika’s healing period will also be sped up.”

A silence grew in the room. You could tell Silco was digesting what you just explained. “I imagine that you probably want this to be done much faster, but good work takes time. I promise you that I will make this commission my top priority moving forward. But I’m not going to rush this to a point where I feel like my craftsmanship gets diminished.”

Another silence fell over the room until Silco broke it. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a job, YN. Don’t disappoint me. I will supply you with shimmer. Don't forget that I want it done as soon as possible.” Silco voice way low, almost threatening. He turned his back to you and sat back down behind his desk. “When will you be able to start?”

“I can have you come over to my workshop tomorrow so I can have a proper look at you,” you said and looked at Sevika - she nodded in agreement.

“Great. You two have a plan. You,” Silco said, pointing at the guard standing behind you by the door. “Get the girl her pay.” The guard nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind you.

“I’m gonna need your address,” Sevika leant forward and looked at you with an intimidating look, taking a long puff of her cigarette and exhaling it through her nose. She looked really good. Fuck. You tried to push your thoughts aside; you had to remain professional.

“Oh! Right, of course!” Your nerves had gotten to you. You grabbed your notebook and pencil from your bag on the floor and scribbled down your name and the address, the name of your workshop, as well drawing a quick silly doodle at the end of it out of habit and handed the note to Sevika.

“You enter through what looks like a tinker’s shop, or a salvage shop, you’ll see a sign that says Junk and Joints and loads of scrap in the windows - can’t miss it. Just tell whoever’s in there you’re there for me and they’ll send you down,” you explained. You thought you saw a slight smile tug at Sevika’s lips as she looked at your note.

The door opened and the guard came back with two pouches in his hands. He walked over to Silco who was sitting at his desk reading over some paperwork. Silco looked at the pouches, squinted and waved his hand before looking back down at his papers. The guard walked over to you and dropped the two heavy pouches on the table in front of you. “Your pay.” The guard said and exited the room again.

“Ooh, thank you…” you muttered and looked inside them. In one of them was your money. In the other, vials of shimmer, looking to be enough to last you about two weeks. You put them in your bag along with your notebook.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she looked up at you and gave you a slight nod, her face back to being stern with her cigarette hanging from her lips.

Your heart fluttered for a second before speaking. “Yeah, I’ll see you.” Ran came up behind you and put their hand on your shoulder and walked towards the door. You quickly flung the now heavier bag over your shoulder and exited the office with Ran.

As you heard the door shut behind you, Ran turned to you. “You did good. They seemed to like you.”

“Were you concern they wouldn’t?” you said playfully as you walked down the metal staircase.

“No, not really, but they don't fuck around. You would know if they didn’t like you.”

“Shit ok, I’m glad you didn’t tell me that beforehand - I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool.” You walked to the front door before stopping and turning to Ran. “I’m gonna head to the shop and get started on some ideas. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good luck,” Ran gave you a quick hug. “See you!” You waved at Ran and headed out.

-

You were sitting at your workbench doodling in your notebook with a cigarette between your lips - your music was playing from your speaker, but this time it didn’t drown out the sound of the elevator arriving at your floor. You felt your heart race as you saw Sevika stepping into your workshop.

“This a good time?” she asked and looked around.

You shot up from your stool and picked your cigarette from your mouth. “P-perfect time! Please, have a seat in my so called - living room,” you stammered and gestured to the other side of the room; an old sofa and two armchairs, and a small run-down coffee table with a few old mugs, an empty wine bottle, a candle and an ashtray.

Sevika walked over and sat down on the sofa against the wall as you hurried over to your speaker to turn the music down, now barely audible.

“Alright, so, I’m gonna ask some questions and I’m gonna need some measurements after,” you walked over to ash your cigarette in the ashtray and took a seat in one of the armchairs, notebook and a pencil in hand.

“I got the whole ‘mechanical shimmer arm that deals possibly fatal blows’ shtick,” you waved your hands in the air as you spoke, “but do you have any other requirements that I should know of before I start?”

“The most important part is functionality. If it can’t win me a fight, it’s useless,” Sevika lit a cigarette, taking a long drag from it before continuing. “It needs to have some sort of buff to it.”

“Shimmer can help enhance the hits by hydraulic force, and as Silco requested, I’ll integrate a shimmer system for both injection, infusion and storage - so I don't think you can get more fit for fight than that.”

She nodded. “It also needs to be durable – I don't want you skimping out on the materials here,” she said in a demanding tone. “Don't have the time to constantly come in for repairs. I need reliability with this thing.”

You nodded your head and smirked. “Of course, only the best.”

Sevika scoffed and took another drag from her cigarette. “And it can’t be too heavy, I’m gonna be wearing it outside of combat as well. So don't go too crazy with your fancy mats.”

“Sure, no problem,” you spent a few minutes jotting down some more ideas in your notebook.

“I made an exception for you, y’know.” You broke the silence.

“That so? Why?”

You shrugged. “I stopped doing commissions, but Ran practically begged me to take this job. And when I heard it was for you, the decision was kind of a no-brainer – it seemed important, so I wanted to help.”

Sevika scoffed, smoke from her cigarette exiting her nostrils. “You and Ran close?”

“You could say that,” you smiled and kept your eyes on your notes. “Alright, if that’s all, I wanna get some measurements of you while you’re here,” you said as you stood up and walked over to your workbench to get some tools, as well as a whiskey bottle you spotted on your shelf.

“You want a drink?” you asked and held up the bottle.

“Sure.” She fumbled with the buckle of her cloak for a few seconds before getting it, she swiftly slid it off and left it on the sofa arm. Under her cloak she was wearing a tank top, revealing her broad shoulders.

You grabbed two clean cups from your shelf. “It’s nothing fancy, just some stuff one of my customers brings along whenever she visits for repairs,” you explained as you walked over to the sofa where Sevika was sitting and put the cups and the bottle on the table. You nervously sat down on her left side and poured the two of you a drink, Sevika immediately finishing hers.

Sevika shrugged. “Not bad. I’ve had worse.”

You took a sip of your drink before turning towards Sevika to finally have a look at her.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen an amputee; you had seen several people having lost anything from legs and arms, to hands, feet, fingers, even noses. Prosthetics was your most common request when you took commissions, and you keep repairing all sorts of prosthetics. But Sevika’s amputee scar looked different. The scar had healed nicely and it looked fine - besides the blue lines going from her healed wound up her shoulder and neck to her cheek, and over her chest, her tank top hiding the full extent of it. They looked like scars, and they almost had a blue shine to them. It kind of looked like she had been struck by lightning. You had never seen anything like it; it looked cool, but you would never dare tell her that.

Sevika leant forward refilling her cup with whiskey as you gently touched her shoulder, she briefly flinched at your touch and gave you a nasty side eye, but didn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna have to touch you, y’know,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

Sevika scoffed and picked up her cup, bringing it to her lips. “As you please,” she muttered and glanced at you. You felt your cheeks go warm at her comment.

Her shoulder was stiff, but you couldn’t tell if it was because of the amount of muscles this woman had, or her being uncomfortable because she was showing you something vulnerable - or maybe a mix of the two. She probably wore the cloak for a reason.

You got on with the prep work, pulling out your measuring tool to measure her shoulder, jotting down the numbers as well as thoughts and ideas in your notebook, even things you might not even need, just to be sure.

“Could you stand up for me?” you asked and stood up, holding out your measuring tool.

Sevika looked up at you and hesitated for a moment before ashing her cigarette in the ashtray on the table and getting up. You almost gasped at her big frame and height as she stood up in front of you, she glanced down at you, waiting for you to do your thing.

Sevika kept her eyes on you with a stern look as you stepped onto the table to get better access.

“Hold out your arm for me?” you asked quietly. She obeyed, and you measured the length of her arm, as well as the width, quietly muttering the numbers so you would remember.

“How close?” Sevika broke the silence.

“What?”

“You and Ran.”

You chuckled at the fact that Sevika had been thinking about your earlier mention of the two of you being close. “Oh, we grew up together – we’re siblings. Their parents took me in when I was a kid.”

You wrapped the measuring tool around her neck and put your hand behind her to grab onto the tool, looking at the measurement.

“People often think we’re a couple. We don’t quite look alike, but if you know we’re siblings you can tell how our demeanors are similar. And we have the same laugh.”

Standing this close you could smell her; she smelled woody, like cigarettes and whiskey. So hot. You gave her a quick glance and saw that she was looking directly into your eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel a small smile tug at your lips.

You snapped out of the moment and stepped down from the table, grabbed your notebook from the table and wrote down the measurements.

You heard a sigh from Sevika as she sat back down. “What the hell are all these measurements for anyway? Aren’t you just making me an arm?” Sevika asked and grabbed her drink.

“A lot of these are just-in-case-numbers; I don't wanna be running around Zaun trying to find you in case I missed a measurement.” You sat back down and kept your notebook in your lap.

“You don't?” Sevika smirked and took another sip of her drink.

You could feel your cheeks get hot again. “Not really, no,” you chuckled. “But if you’re not running around doing Silco’s dirty work, you’ll probably be at The Last Drop.”

“You might be right about that.”

“But – to answer your question, there are a lot of things that go into making a prosthetic arm. I want to get the size of the mech right; don't want it to be loads smaller or larger than your other arm. And I’m gonna be making you a harness.” You took a swig from your drink.

“What am I gonna be needing a harness for?” Sevika asked, her tone was as sharp as usual.

“When you get your arm surgically attached, you’re gonna have to keep it in a harness for a few weeks while it heals. And the weight and feel of the arm is also gonna take some time to get used to - don't wanna fuck up your shoulder. It’s just for the first few weeks,” you explained, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “I don't doubt your strength, but it will get tiring, no matter your physique,” you pointed towards her with your pencil. “Especially if you’re gonna be fighting with this thing.”

“Guess you have a point,” Sevika muttered. “But I can’t be completely useless for too long. I have shit to do - business to deal with.”

“I know you do, but you have to take the healing period seriously. If it doesn’t heal right you’re just gonna make this take even longer.” Your tone was strict.

Sevika just scoffed and took a swig from her cup. Her hand was so big compared to the cup, her fingers to long and her fingernails pristine, which was kind of surprising. You sat there observing her for a few seconds before snapping out of your trance.

“I-uh, have everything I need from you, at least for now,” you put your notebook on the table. “I want you to come back when the first part of the prototype is done so I can make sure it’s a good fit for your shoulder before we commit to anything. Then you’ll also be able to have a look at the blueprints - see if you like the design and stuff.” You leant back into the sofa, putting one leg up, your knee to your chest.

“Sounds good. When do you think that’ll be?” Sevika dragged her cloak back around her shoulders and fumbled with the buckle for a few seconds.

“I think I’m gonna need about a week to design and plan all of it, and about one or two more weeks to make the first parts of the prototype, depending on how long the shimmer Silco supplied will last me.”

“You know how to reach me?” Sevika turned her head to look at you, her face stern, but not intimidating as usual.

“I’ll find a way, but I’m guessing I’ll find you at your usual spot at The Drop.”

“Oh yeah? My usual spot?” Sevika smirked.

“Yeah, I know where you like to sit. Seen you gamble and put some of those crude old men to shame,” you said and chuckled lightly.

“You calling my men crude?”

“Yeah, I am.” You smiled smugly.

“Hm. You might be right,” she grabbed her cup and finished her drink. “Guess I gotta get back to my crude men.” She stood up from the sofa, the weight of her moving shifting you slightly.

“Alright, you do that. I’ll see you in a few weeks!”

“See you.” Sevika gave you a nod and a smirk as she got into the elevator.

[aspenmissing]

Hello!! Would u be able to write the arcane characters with a partner with short-term memory loss and them being patient with them? Thanks in advance!! 🤗

ᴜɴꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 5167 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ-ᴛᴇʀᴍ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ʟᴏꜱꜱ (ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ). ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ

JAYCE

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. The air was still, save for the soft rustling of sheets as Jayce stirred awake. His body moved on instinct, his arm reaching out across the bed for the familiar warmth of Y/N beside him. But instead of feeling her nestled against him, he found only cold sheets.

Jayce blinked away the sleep, his heart giving a small but familiar pang of worry as he turned his head to look at her. She was already sitting up, legs tucked beneath her, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, her breathing shallow. Even before she spoke, Jayce knew. He had seen this before.

He sat up slowly, careful not to startle her. "Good morning, sweetheart," he said softly, voice warm and steady.

Y/N tensed at the sound, her body going rigid. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes searching his with a distant, unfocused gaze.

"Who… are you?" Her voice was quiet, uncertain, as if the words themselves felt foreign on her tongue.

Jayce felt the breath leave his lungs. His smile faltered, the ache in his chest twisting into something deeper, something unbearable.

"It's me," he said, almost a whisper. "Jayce."

But there was no recognition in her eyes.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked down at the sheets, gripping them as if they were the only thing anchoring her to reality. She inhaled sharply, her frustration evident. "I... I don't remember." Her voice wavered, breaking at the edges. "I'm sorry."

Jayce reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, squeezing gently. "You don’t have to apologise, love. It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll always be here."

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes scanning his face, searching for something familiar. Jayce had gotten used to this—waking up to the same heartbreak, the same fragile moment where she tried to piece together who he was, who they were. It never got easier. But he had never once wavered.

"Do you trust me?" he asked gently, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of her hand.

She hesitated. Then, after a moment, she nodded. "I... I think so."

A soft chuckle left his lips. "That’s a start." He leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of her hand before reluctantly letting go. He stood up, walking to the bedside table where a small, well-worn leather journal sat waiting. He had made sure it was always within reach. Just in case.

He returned to her side, handing it to her carefully. "This is yours. You write in it every night before bed."

Y/N took the journal hesitantly, running her fingers over the soft, worn leather. She opened it, flipping through the pages filled with words in her own handwriting. Little notes, memories, moments she had tried to preserve for herself. And at the top of the very first page, written in bold, unwavering letters:

"Jayce loves you. And you love him."

Her breath hitched. Her fingers ghosted over the ink, as if tracing the letters would somehow make them feel real, tangible.

"I wrote this?" she asked, her voice small.

Jayce nodded. "You did."

She swallowed, her grip on the journal tightening. "I... I want to remember."

Jayce exhaled softly, his heart aching at the longing in her voice. He reached out, cupping her cheek with gentle fingers, brushing away the tear that had slipped down her face.

"Then we'll make new memories," he whispered. "Every day. As many times as you need."

Y/N leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment as if savouring the warmth of his hand. "You must be tired of this." The words were barely above a whisper, fragile and laced with guilt. "Of me."

Jayce's brows drew together, and his hold on her face grew firmer—not in restraint, but in reassurance. "Never," he said, the word carrying all the weight of his love for her. "I love you, Y/N. Even if you forget a thousand times, I’ll remind you a thousand and one."

A small, watery smile trembled on her lips. "You're really patient."

He let out a soft chuckle, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Only for you."

She rested her forehead against his chest, inhaling deeply as his arms wrapped around her, holding her as if he could physically keep her memories safe.

And as the morning sun bathed them in light, Jayce made a silent promise—to remind her, to love her, to never give up on her, no matter how many times he had to start again.

VIKTOR

Viktor sat at his workbench, the soft glow of the hextech crystal casting a gentle, flickering light over the room. The air smelled faintly of oil and parchment, the familiar scent of ink mixing with the faint metallic tang of machinery. His hands moved with practiced ease, sketching new designs across a weathered notebook, but his mind was elsewhere—on her.

He heard the familiar sound of hesitant footsteps padding cautiously into the workshop, slow and uncertain. His heart ached in anticipation, though he kept his expression warm and welcoming as he turned in his chair, his golden-brown eyes softening the moment they landed on her.

"Ah, good evening, my dear," he greeted, his voice laced with gentle affection.

Y/N stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway beyond. She hesitated, her fingers brushing against the wooden frame as if she were trying to ground herself. Her eyes, wide with confusion, flickered around the room, searching for something familiar.

“I—I don’t know where I am,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know if I should be here.”

Viktor inhaled softly, keeping his movements slow and deliberate as he set down his pen. He shifted, gripping his cane before pushing himself up to stand with practiced care. There was no frustration in his gaze, no flicker of impatience—only boundless patience and unwavering devotion.

"You are exactly where you are meant to be," he assured her gently. "You are home, Y/N. With me."

She blinked at him, her brows knitting together in thought. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came. She studied his face, tracing his features with uncertainty, as if searching for something hidden just beyond the reach of her memory.

“Do I… know you?” she finally asked, her voice so fragile it made Viktor’s chest tighten.

The words were a dagger to his heart, but he bore them with the quiet grace of a man who had learned to endure this pain a thousand times before. It would be easy to despair, to crumble beneath the weight of losing her over and over again—but he never would. Not when she was still here, still breathing, still standing before him with a flicker of recognition buried deep within her eyes.

But he loved her. And love, he believed, was not just in memories—it was in moments. In the way her hand felt in his, in the sound of her voice, in the quiet evenings spent together, even if she did not always remember them.

“You do,” he said softly. “But it is alright if you do not remember yet. We have time.”

Her hesitation lingered, but when he reached out, she let him take her hands in his. They were familiar, warm, and despite the veil of uncertainty clouding her mind, she did not pull away.

She looked down at their intertwined fingers, running her thumb along his knuckles as if trying to understand why this touch felt so right.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her gaze flicking back to his, searching for an answer.

"Viktor," he murmured, giving her fingers a light squeeze. "I am your Viktor."

A flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—passed through her eyes, and for the briefest moment, she smiled. It was small, tentative, but it was enough to make Viktor’s breath catch in his throat.

"I think I like that name," she whispered, as if the words were a secret meant only for him.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, and his grip on her hands tightened just slightly, grounding himself in the moment. “That is good to hear. You tell me so every time.”

She blinked, tilting her head. “I do?”

He nodded, a quiet hum of amusement escaping his lips. “Yes. And then you always let me hold you like this.” He carefully guided her hands to rest against his chest, just over the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat. “And sometimes, if I am lucky, you let me kiss you, too.”

A faint blush dusted her cheeks, the colour blooming softly against her skin. Despite the uncertainty still lingering in her gaze, she let out a quiet laugh—light and airy, a sound Viktor wished he could bottle and keep forever.

“I think… I think I like that, too.”

His heart ached, full and heavy with love as he leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, his lips against her skin, letting the warmth of the moment sink into his very being.

Carefully shifting his weight onto his cane, he whispered, "Then, perhaps, we should fall in love all over again."

And so, they did. Every single day.

JAYVIK

The marketplace in Piltover bustled with life, the air filled with the scent of fresh bread, spiced tea, and the occasional hint of metalwork from the nearby forges. Merchants called out their wares, bartering voices rising above the murmur of the crowd. The streets were alive with a tapestry of colours—vivid fabrics draped over wooden stalls, glistening jewels reflecting the golden light of the afternoon sun, and baskets of fresh produce adding splashes of green and orange to the scene.

Y/N had been out with Viktor and Jayce, the three of them enjoying a rare break from their work, wandering through the stalls, taking in the sights and sounds, indulging in the simple pleasure of being together. It was a fleeting escape from the pressures of Piltover’s politics and technology, a moment where they could simply be. Jayce had been enthusiastically explaining a new hextech prototype, gesturing animatedly while Viktor listened with an amused yet interested expression, always ready to ground Jayce’s ambitions in practicality.

But in the flurry of movement, she had wandered off.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, not that she could remember. One moment, she had been holding Viktor’s hand, listening to Jayce ramble about some new hextech idea he was excited about. And the next, she was standing in a completely different part of the market, arms full of random goods. A roll of fabric, a small pouch of herbs, a beautifully carved wooden figurine of a Vastaya, and even a loaf of bread. The weight of them in her hands felt unfamiliar, as though they had simply appeared there without her noticing.

She blinked down at the assortment, confusion bubbling in her chest. When had she picked these up? Had she paid for them? Did someone give them to her? The thought sent a ripple of anxiety through her—what if she had taken them without realising?

A voice, warm but laced with concern, cut through the fog.

“There you are!” Jayce sighed in relief as he jogged up to her, his broad shoulders slightly tense from the worry that had clearly been eating at him. Viktor was only a step behind, leaning slightly on his cane, his golden eyes sweeping over her with the same concern Jayce wore openly.

“Where did you go, dove?” Viktor asked softly, his voice steady and soothing, searching her face for any sign of distress.

Y/N looked between them, her expression blank before morphing into something puzzled. “I… I don’t know.” She furrowed her brows, looking down at the items in her arms as if they might offer an explanation. “I don’t remember where I got these.”

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance, the familiar ache of worry settling between them. They had learned to navigate these moments with her, moments where time slipped through her fingers like sand, where memories faded as quickly as they were made. It hurt, but they never let her see that. They had promised to be patient, to guide her back whenever she lost herself, to anchor her in their presence.

Instead, Jayce offered her his easy smile, reaching out to steady the bundle in her arms. “Well, that’s quite the collection you’ve got there. Mind if we retrace your steps and figure it out?”

Y/N bit her lip, nodding hesitantly. “I… I didn’t steal, did I?” The fear in her voice was small but present, and it made Viktor’s heart ache. The idea of her feeling lost, unsure of her own actions, tore at him in ways he couldn’t put into words.

“No, Lásko,” Viktor reassured her immediately, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing slow, reassuring circles against the fabric of her sleeve. “We’ll sort it out, don’t worry.” (Love)

Jayce, ever the optimist, gave her a wink. “If anything, you might have just been too charming, and people couldn’t help but give you things.”

That made her smile, if only a little. The tension in her shoulders eased, and Viktor reached for her free hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, grounding her in something solid. Jayce did the same on her other side, his grip warm and steady, always there to catch her when she faltered.

Together, they walked back through the marketplace, patient, understanding. They stopped at a fabric stall where the vendor instantly recognised Y/N, smiling warmly and assuring her that she had paid. At the herbalist’s stand, the elderly shopkeeper chuckled, recalling how Y/N had been fascinated by a rare herb she hadn’t seen before. Each stop helped piece the mystery together, each kind word and understanding smile from the merchants easing the anxiety that had settled in her chest.

It wasn’t always easy, but neither of them would ever dream of leaving her lost—not when she was their home, memory or not. And as they walked, hands linked, Y/N found comfort in knowing that no matter how much she forgot, they would always remember for her.

VANDER

The Last Drop was bustling, the scent of ale and smoke hanging thick in the air. The low hum of chatter mixed with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Vander stood behind the bar, wiping down a mug as he cast a concerned glance towards Y/N. She was seated at one of the tables, fingers idly tracing the wood grain. Her brows were slightly furrowed, her lips pursed as if she was trying to recall something just out of reach.

He sighed, setting the mug down with a quiet clink. "Alright, love, we need a few things from the market," he said, walking over to her. He pulled out a chair and sat beside her, his large hand covering hers in a comforting gesture. "You up for it?"

Y/N blinked, looking up at him. Her eyes held a flicker of uncertainty before she nodded. "Of course. What do we need?" she asked, voice light but hesitant.

Vander smiled, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. "I've made a list," he reassured her, reaching into his pocket. "And you're not going alone this time."

Y/N frowned. "Why not?"

Vi, standing nearby with her arms crossed, snorted. "Because last time, you forgot everything, and we ended up with three loaves of bread and no ale."

Claggor chuckled, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. "Yeah, and you told the vendor you needed... what was it? Oh right, 'that thing Vander wanted'—which could mean anything."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip. "Oh. Right."

Vander chuckled, his calloused fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It’s alright, sweetheart. That’s why I’m sending you with Powder. And she's got the list."

He gestured towards Powder, who was holding a folded piece of parchment like it was the most important thing in the world. Her small fingers gripped it tightly, her blue eyes sparkling with determination. "I got it! I won’t let her forget a thing!" she chirped, bouncing on her heels.

Y/N gave a soft smile, ruffling Powder’s hair. "Alright, alright. Let’s do this then."

=

As they left The Last Drop, the streets of the Undercity greeted them with a familiar mix of noise and movement. Powder held Y/N’s hand tightly, occasionally glancing up at her. "You feeling okay today?" she asked gently.

Y/N squeezed her hand in return, offering a small but appreciative smile. "I think so. Just... my mind feels a little foggy. Like I know what I’m supposed to do, but it keeps slipping away."

"That’s okay!" Powder said brightly. "That’s why I’ve got the list. Vander thought of everything. We’ll get everything and be back in no time!"

=

They made their way through the market, the air filled with the shouts of vendors calling out their wares and the scent of fresh bread mingling with the oil and grime of the Undercity. Powder kept a steady stream of conversation to keep Y/N focused, pointing out interesting trinkets or people she recognised. Each time they bought something, Powder carefully checked it off the list with a piece of charcoal she had found in her pocket.

"Alright, next is—" Powder paused, then frowned. "Wait, where did the list go?"

Y/N blinked, looking around, her heart skipping a beat. "Didn’t you just have it?"

Powder frantically checked her pockets, patting herself down as if the list might materialise out of thin air. "I did! I swear!"

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. "It’s alright. We’ll figure it out. Let’s retrace our steps."

=

They went back to each stall they had stopped at, Powder chattering as she tried to remember where she might have dropped it. "I had it right here!" she insisted, patting her pockets frantically. "It couldn’t have just vanished!"

Y/N watched her for a moment before something clicked. She reached out and tugged at the edge of Powder’s sleeve. "Powder… what’s this?"

Powder blinked as Y/N pulled the missing parchment free. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "No way! I put it in my sleeve?!"

Y/N burst into laughter, doubling over as she held up the list. "Looks like it’s not just me who forgets things!"

=

By the time they returned to The Last Drop, Powder was carrying a bag nearly twice her size, her small frame nearly swallowed by the bulk of their purchases. Y/N was still giggling, shaking her head at the whole situation as she held up the list triumphantly.

Vander smirked, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed. "And here I was worried."

Vi rolled her eyes, flicking Powder on the forehead playfully. "You should've been. Turns out it's a family trait."

Y/N chuckled, setting the goods down on the counter. "At least we got everything, right?"

Powder huffed dramatically, plopping onto a stool with a tired sigh. "Barely. But we did!"

Vander pulled Y/N into a gentle embrace, his strong arms wrapping around her securely. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, lingering just a little longer this time. "You did good, love."

She melted into his touch, her fingers curling into his shirt as she exhaled softly. "Couldn’t have done it without Powder."

"And the list!" Powder added proudly, holding up the crumpled piece of parchment like a trophy.

Vander chuckled, his voice full of warmth. "And next time, maybe we write two of them—just in case."

SILCO

The low hum of the Undercity seeped into the walls of Silco’s office, the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the cracks. His space was dim, lit only by the harsh glow of a single lamp that cast long, stark shadows across the room. The scent of old books, tobacco, and leather lingered in the air, a mixture that felt almost familiar to Y/N. Still, even in the comfort of this space, the world outside her mind felt distant—blurred like an image through fog.

She sat across from Silco, the heavy chair creaking under her as she fiddled with the edge of the glass on the desk in front of her. The intricate patterns of the wood seemed to shift in her gaze, like the shifting of memories she couldn’t quite catch.

Silco sat, as always, calm, his posture imposing yet somehow at ease. His sharp eyes flickered to her, and for a moment, she could feel his steady gaze anchoring her—reminding her that she wasn’t as lost as she sometimes felt.

She hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet. “I… I think you’ve told me this story before,” she said, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, the motion almost like a reflex. “But I can’t remember the ending.”

A flicker of amusement played across Silco’s lips, but his expression remained steady. There was no irritation in his eyes—only understanding. “I have told you,” he replied, his voice deep and smooth, as if each word was deliberate, calming. “But I don’t mind telling it again. Perhaps it will stick this time.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her gaze drifting to the flickering candle on the desk. “I don’t know how you can be so patient with me,” she said, her voice carrying a trace of self-consciousness. “It must get exhausting repeating yourself all the time.”

Silco’s eyes softened as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of his desk. “It doesn’t exhaust me,” he replied, his tone unwavering, yet there was a quiet warmth to it. “I find the repetition comforting. It’s you. And you… you are worth every second.”

Her gaze flickered up to meet his, and something in her chest tightened. There was a tenderness in his words that wasn’t often displayed, a rare softness that only she seemed to evoke. She took a slow breath, trying to steady herself. “But what if I forget again? What if one day… I don’t even remember you?”

Silco’s jaw tightened for a brief moment, but his voice remained steady, unwavering. “Even then, Y/N,” he said, his gaze locking with hers, “I would still be here. I would wait for you to remember, or for you to find your way back to me. Whatever it took.”

The vulnerability in her chest pulled tighter. She had become accustomed to forgetting pieces of herself, of her world. But hearing him speak like this, with such confidence, with such certainty… it did something to her. It made her want to believe, to trust in the idea that not everything could slip away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice small, fragile. She immediately regretted it. Sorry for forgetting, for not being the person she once was. Sorry for the uncertainty she brought into every conversation.

Silco leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering, his eyes piercing into hers. “There is nothing to apologise for,” he said, his voice a quiet strength. “Not with me. You never need to apologise for forgetting, Y/N. Not with me.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him. His sharp features, his cold, calculated exterior—none of it mattered in these moments. The softness in his eyes, the gentleness in his voice, was all she needed to see.

“But… I do forget things,” she said, a small, almost helpless laugh escaping her lips. “Little things, big things, important things.”

Silco’s expression softened even further, and for a long moment, he said nothing. He just looked at her, his gaze never leaving hers, as if to say everything with a silent understanding.

"Then I’ll remind you," he said simply, leaning forward and reaching out to gently take her hand in his. "And I will never stop."

Y/N’s breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking into her like an anchor. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling his warmth seep through her fingers. In that touch, she felt the steady beat of something real, something that even the fog of her memory couldn’t quite erase.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze again, the vulnerability still there but softened by the unwavering certainty in his eyes. "What if I forget everything?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Silco’s thumb brushed across the back of her hand, a slow, deliberate motion that felt like a promise in itself. “Then we’ll build new memories together. Ones you won’t forget.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with warmth, a swell of emotion she couldn’t quite articulate. "You really mean that, don’t you?" she asked, her voice small but steady, searching for the reassurance that she hadn’t been abandoned in the pieces of herself that were slipping away.

"I do," Silco replied, his voice firm but tender. "And I will be here, Y/N. Every day. For as long as it takes."

She smiled softly, a sense of peace settling in her chest. In the silence that followed, there was no pressure, no rush. Just the two of them in the moment, and for once, that was enough.

Time passed slowly, but with Silco by her side, Y/N didn’t feel so lost anymore. Even if the memories she cherished slipped away, there was something timeless between them—a bond that not even time itself could erase. And that, more than anything, was enough for her.

JINX/POWDER

The room was quiet except for the soft sound of paper turning. Y/N sat on the worn couch, holding a cup of tea in her hands, her eyes gliding over the pages in front of her. Jinx, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watched her with a quiet intensity, her usual wild energy subdued in the face of the delicate task she had undertaken.

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she flipped another page of the scrapbook. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she had learned that patience would be her guide. The short-term memory loss was something new, and it came in waves—some days, she could remember everything, and others... it was as if entire chunks of her life had simply faded away.

"Do you... do you remember this one?" Jinx’s voice was soft, almost hesitant. Her usual mischievous spark was replaced by something deeper, a tender concern that radiated from her like warmth.

Y/N looked at the page, her fingers brushing over the photo of the two of them, laughing in the sunlight, her hair tied in the long plait that Jinx loved to twirl. For a moment, she felt a tug of recognition, but then it slipped away, the feeling fading like water through her fingers.

"I... I don’t," Y/N murmured, a frown tugging at her lips. "But it’s nice, isn’t it? We look happy."

"Yeah, you and me, like we always are," Jinx replied, her voice uncharacteristically soft. There was no teasing, no sarcasm—only a raw, quiet warmth that seemed to anchor the space between them. "It’s okay, though. It’s just... memory stuff, right? You’ll get it back. You always do."

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to find comfort in Jinx’s words. She could see how hard the other girl was trying to stay patient. She had always been the one to keep things light, to crack jokes and stir trouble, but now, she was more still, more grounded. The change was subtle, but it was there.

Her eyes flicked to the next page, and there, to her surprise, was a picture of Jinx with her younger self, a wild, chaotic expression on her face. The photo caught a side of Jinx Y/N had never seen, one of the many layers she had peeled back over the years, revealing her deeper vulnerabilities.

"Is this... you?" Y/N asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and worry. She didn’t want to upset Jinx by forgetting important things, especially those that were tied so closely to the girl’s heart.

Jinx tilted her head, her lips curling into a small, bittersweet smile. "Yep, that’s me. Before, you know... things got a little... complicated." Her tone wavered, the weight of unspoken memories hanging in the air.

Y/N’s gaze softened as she studied the picture. "I see. So, you’ve always had that spark, huh?"

"Yup, always." Jinx’s eyes twinkled, her smile spreading wider. "I was a little more... explode-y back then, though." She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the connection between them flickering to life despite the gap in memory. "I bet. You’ve always had a way with things. Explosions, pranks... and me, apparently."

Jinx gave a little shrug, but the affection in her eyes was unmistakable. "Well, I’ve got to take care of my bestie, right?"

"You always do," Y/N whispered, her heart swelling with the familiar warmth of maternal affection. "You always do."

Jinx’s fingers continued to turn the pages, and Y/N watched her with a quiet gaze as the girl shared more of the scrapbook. There were photos, trinkets, scraps of paper—all carefully placed to help jog Y/N’s memory of the times they’d shared, the moments they had cherished. It was as if Jinx had poured herself into every page, filling the gaps that Y/N couldn’t quite grasp.

=

After a while, Y/N turned to the last page, where a series of sketches Jinx had drawn herself filled the space—images of them together, sitting on the roof of a building, running through the streets, laughing and wild, their bond unspoken but palpable.

"These... these are from you?" Y/N asked quietly, her fingers tracing the outlines of the drawings. "You made these for me?"

Jinx, who usually radiated an untamed energy, seemed to shrink a little. Her usual cocky grin softened, replaced with something vulnerable. "Yeah. I... I wanted to make sure you'd always remember. Even if I gotta keep doing this for a while."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat, her heart squeezing. Jinx had always been unpredictable, a whirlwind of emotions and impulsive decisions, but this... this was something different. This was care. This was love. Jinx had become her child, in a way—a chaotic, beautiful, complicated child who needed protection and care as much as she needed to be free.

"I’ll remember, Jinx," Y/N said, her voice steady despite the fluttering uncertainty. "Even if it takes time, I will. And I’ll be right here with you. Always."

Jinx’s smile softened, her eyes welling with gratitude, a flicker of that old wild spark returning in the depth of her gaze. "I know, Y/N. I know."

And for the first time in a while, Y/N felt like maybe, just maybe, she’d remember everything important—and, if not, she’d always have Jinx, her fiercely loyal, loving daughter in her own way, right there with her.

[justarithinnngs]

Defenseless (Chapter 1 - Late Night, Talking)

paring: hwang junho x platonic(?) reader

i don't have any warnings at the moment but they'll be listed as the story continues. spaces will be continued as well, working on chapters five and six <3

—/—

The constant hum of traffic below her apartment, the way the streetlights bled through the edges of her curtains, the persistent buzz of her phone from endless group messages and reminders—it was all too much. Yet, here she was. A college senior in the heart of Seoul, miles from the small town where she’d grown up.

It had been 15 years since her family moved here when she was six. She had always thought it was a temporary thing—just a few years, an “adventure.” But here she was, nearing the end of her college years, and South Korea had long since become home.

Tonight, Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, her laptop open in front of her but not being of much use. She’d been staring at the same blank page for the last hour, the blinking cursor a mocking reminder of how little she’d accomplished today. The thesis paper on the ethics of artificial intelligence might as well have been written in a foreign language.

Procrastination had become second nature. But tonight wasn’t about her paper. Tonight, she was lost in thought.

Her phone buzzed again on the coffee table.

Levi: “You alive?”

Y/N smiled slightly at the message. Levi was her older brother, a couple of years ahead of her in life, and an officer with the Seoul Police Department. He’d always been the protective one, the one who’d pushed her to move here for college even though she wasn’t so sure at first. And now, as a senior, she was glad he’d made that decision.

He was busy. But that was just how Levi was.

Y/N’s fingers hovered over her phone before she typed back:

Y/N: “Yeah, just trying to finish this paper.”

Seconds later, another message popped up.

Levi: “Good luck with that. I’m probably gonna be out late tonight. Keep the door locked.”

Y/N frowned at the text. “Out late tonight.” That was the typical Levi thing to say. Always working late, running errands for his job, or doing something official. He had never been one to talk much about his work. She knew he was a detective, but that was about it.

She sat back against the cushions, rolling her neck to relieve the tension. She wasn’t worried about him; he was a cop, after all. But she did wonder what his night was going to be like—if it was going to be like all the other nights when he came home late, his face tight and his shoulders stiff with whatever case he was working on.

Another buzz.

Levi: “If you get bored, come grab dinner. There’s a place I found near the station. You’ll like it.”

She chuckled at that. Levi always tried to get her out of her shell, even if she didn’t want to leave her apartment. He’d been like that since they were kids—always pushing her to experience more.

Y/N: “I’ll think about it.”

She put her phone down and returned to her paper. She had to at least make it look like she was trying. Her eyes wandered to the clock on the wall.

11:15 p.m.

It was getting late, and the apartment felt heavier, the sounds of the city more distant now. Her gaze slid over to the window. The city was quieter now, but there was still that hum—the feeling of being in a place that never fully stopped moving. Sometimes, she envied the people who could just immerse themselves in the rush of it all. But she wasn’t one of them.

Her thoughts drifted back to Levi. He wasn’t the type to talk about his job much, but Y/N could tell there was a tiredness in him these past few months. Nothing outwardly strange, but a quiet shift she couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was just the stress of being a cop. He was, after all, always on—always in detective mode.

But Y/N wasn’t too concerned. If anything, she trusted him to handle whatever came his way.

She picked up her phone again and scrolled absentmindedly through her social media feed, finding herself growing irritated by the noise. She wanted nothing more than to shut everything out for a while. But the quiet was overwhelming, and her thoughts always had a way of creeping in, no matter how hard she tried to ignore them.

Y/N grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. The night wasn’t going to end with a finished paper or any brilliant thoughts on artificial intelligence. But she was okay with that. She didn’t mind the slow pace of her life most of the time. It was comfortable.

And comfortable, she thought as she looked at her reflection in the glass of the window, was all she really needed right now.

The Doorbell

The chime of her doorbell startled her out of her thoughts. Y/N blinked, glancing at the clock.

11:45 p.m.

Who the hell could be here at this hour?

Her thoughts immediately went to Levi, but then she remembered—he had said he was going to be out late. So, it couldn’t be him.

Her mind raced as she walked toward the door, her heartbeat picking up with each step. She peered through the peephole, and her eyes widened.

It was Levi. And standing beside him—Junho.

The sight of them together was strange, considering she hadn’t seen her brother in a couple of days. And Junho? She only ever saw him when he and Levi hung out, but it was rare. The two of them had the kind of friendship where you could sense their bond even when they didn’t speak.

And yet… here they were, standing in her doorway with pizza boxes.

Y/N blinked, half expecting them to disappear. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked, still standing behind the door, her voice filled with confusion.

Levi grinned as he shifted the pizza boxes in his arms. “We brought dinner.”

Junho, standing off to the side, nodded and grinned as well. “We thought you could use a break from your studies.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “A break? It’s almost midnight. Don’t you guys have… work?”

Levi just waved it off. “We’re both off tonight. Besides, I know you’re stressed about that thesis. Consider this your distraction.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his offer, despite the weirdness of the situation. “I mean, I guess I can’t say no to pizza…”

Junho stepped forward with one of the boxes. “That’s the spirit.”

Y/N stepped back, making room for them to enter. “I swear, you two think you can just show up anytime you want. I’m surprised you didn’t knock on the window, too.”

Levi laughed, pushing past her into the apartment. “We figured you’d be in your study cave, avoiding humanity.” He tossed a wink in her direction, his usual playful self. “Plus, it’s not like we get to hang out like this anymore.”

Y/N shut the door behind them, still processing how sudden this was. “I should probably be the one bringing you food. You two always work yourselves into the ground.”

Junho shrugged, dropping the pizza on the coffee table and flopping onto the couch. “It’s what we do.”

Y/N settled beside him, taking a slice and leaning back into the cushions. “So, what’s up? I thought you were both supposed to be busy?”

Levi shot her a playful look, grabbing a slice himself. “You know how it is. A cop’s work is never done.”

They all settled into a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the quiet munching of pizza and the hum of the city outside. As much as Y/N wanted to focus on her paper, the presence of her brother and Junho was… refreshing. She’d forgotten what it was like to have the two of them just hang out with her.

—/—

Y/N had forgotten how much she enjoyed just hanging out. Between her schoolwork and the quiet days she spent mostly alone in her apartment, having her brother and Junho over felt like a rare gift. The kind that almost made her feel like a regular college student, one who didn’t get buried in papers every weekend.

The three of them sat on the couch, passing around pizza, talking about nothing and everything. It felt natural. Levi’s easygoing nature had a way of filling the silence, and Junho just seemed to go along with whatever Levi said, his quiet laugh following Levi’s jokes.

But after a while, Y/N found herself staring at her half-eaten slice, mind wandering as the conversation meandered between casual topics.

Levi stood up abruptly, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom. Don’t eat all the pizza, okay?”

Y/N didn’t bother to look up. “I’ll try, but no promises.”

He smiled before heading down the hall to the bathroom, leaving her alone with Junho.

For a second, Y/N hesitated. It was just Junho. He’d been over to their place a handful of times—Levi’s work buddy, the guy who was always around but never too much in the spotlight. She’d spoken to him a couple of times, mostly small talk or shared jokes when Levi dragged him into their hangouts. But in the years of knowing him, they had never really talked.

And now, here they were, alone.

Y/N quickly picked up her slice of pizza and took a bite, eyes on the TV, though the screen was just a blur. She could feel the silence stretching between them. It wasn’t awkward in the way that made her want to flee, but it wasn’t comfortable either. There was something about Junho’s quiet presence that threw her off balance.

She glanced over at him. He was sitting back, his elbows propped up on the couch, staring at his slice of pizza like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“You, uh, you still work the night shifts often?” Y/N asked, suddenly realizing how weird the question sounded. She cleared her throat. “I mean, I guess you do. Being a cop and all.”

Junho, who’d been mostly quiet until now, gave her a small smile. “Yeah, it’s part of the job. Sometimes it feels like I live in the station.”

Y/N nodded, though she had no idea how to respond to that. She had always known Junho as Levi’s friend—the guy who was occasionally in the background, never really involved in her day-to-day life. It was strange, sitting here with him like this. She felt like she was still trying to figure out how to engage without overstepping.

She cleared her throat again, setting her pizza down and suddenly feeling like her hands were too fidgety.

“So… uh… you and Levi working on any big cases right now?”

Junho’s eyes flickered to her, his gaze softening. “A few. You know, the usual. Sometimes the work gets… complicated.” He trailed off, as if debating how much to say. Then, to her surprise, he added, “But it’s manageable. It’s what we do.”

Y/N wasn’t sure why, but hearing him say that made her feel a little lighter. There was something about his calmness, his way of not saying too much but enough to keep the conversation going, that made her relax.

Still, the silence hung between them like a heavy curtain.

She scratched the back of her neck, trying to find something else to say. It was fine when Levi was here—they were a team, in a way. Levi’s easy banter and teasing made the room feel full, even if it was just the three of them. But now, with only Junho here, everything felt a little empty. She didn’t mind the quiet. It wasn’t awkward awkward, but it was definitely not… natural.

Junho seemed to sense her discomfort, and for the first time, he actually spoke. “It’s funny, you know. I’ve been around your brother for a while now, but we’ve never really talked much.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, a little surprised by the comment. She leaned back against the couch, suddenly feeling a little less tense. “Yeah, same. I mean, you’re always around, but we’ve never really… had a real conversation.”

He nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Guess we’re both kind of bad at that.”

It was a small comment, but something about the way he said it made Y/N laugh. Not loudly, but just enough to ease some of the tension. “Guess so.”

Junho smiled again, this time a bit wider. It was a soft, genuine thing that she hadn’t noticed before. She had always seen him as stoic—quiet, reserved, the kind of guy who stayed in the background. But now that they were alone, Y/N was starting to realize how different he was in this setting. Without Levi’s constant presence, Junho seemed… more approachable, more human.

“So,” Y/N began, her voice less nervous now. “What do you usually do when you’re not at work?”

Junho looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. Not much, I guess. I like to run. Helps clear my head.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Run? Like, you actually go outside and run?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t run marathons or anything. Just… to clear my mind.”

That made sense, Y/N thought. Junho always seemed like the type to need that space, that quiet moment to himself. She could relate in a way. The quiet was where she found her peace.

“I guess that’s one way to get away from it all,” she said, her voice light. “I… can barely run for more than five minutes before I start feeling like I’m going to die.”

Junho laughed, a real, soft laugh this time. “Maybe you’re doing it wrong.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the moment shift. This wasn’t so bad. They were just two people talking. Not brother and friend, just… people.

Just then, Levi’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Hey, don’t get too cozy without me!”

Y/N glanced toward the hall, her smile barely holding back a laugh. She could already hear Levi shuffling back toward them.

“Levi, we’re just talking,” she called back, her voice light.

Levi stepped back into the living room, his hands on his hips as he shot a playful glance at both of them. “You guys better not have solved all the world’s problems without me.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at him, throwing a pillow in his direction. “Not yet, but give us another five minutes.”

Junho smirked, his earlier solemnity softened by the shared joke. “You’re lucky we saved you some pizza.”

Levi groaned dramatically, dropping back onto the couch and stealing a slice. “You’re lucky I didn’t come back and find you two still talking about running and philosophy or whatever.” He took a bite and settled in, clearly in no mood for deep conversation.

Y/N and Junho exchanged a brief, almost imperceptible glance, the kind of look that said this is enough—the moment had shifted back to normal. Just the three of them, in the most ordinary way. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, but it was comfortable.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the kind of silence that no one minded because it wasn’t awkward, just a peaceful pause. The kind of silence you share with people you’re close to. No expectations. No pressure.

And for a while, everything was just… easy.

[wandixx]

Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures

I realized I posted a teaser and never really followed up on it, so here is some more of that

“Hey, Dami?”

Boy hadn’t looked up from the kittens he was bottle feeding but let out a hum indicating he listened.

“I'm thinking about trying out a more girlish style. Do you think it would suit me?”

Well, Damian had no idea but if Dani wished to give it a chance, then, well, the only proper reaction was to offer his aid.

*-*-*

“Father, I require access to your rouge gallery.”

Bruce almost choked on his breakfast when his youngest made this announcement.

Rouge gallery, as his children playfully called it, was vast collection of lipsticks, which he collected to uphold his Brucie persona. Famous playboy with head constantly in the clouds couldn’t not show up with discreet signs of scandal from time to time. And it couldn’t always be the same shade. Or scent when he choose more subtle approach and used one of his more feminine perfumes.

In all honesty, he enjoyed this.

But that’s not the point, point was that Damian wanted to use it and Bruce needed to know what disaster would fall upon him if he agreed.

“Mind telling me why, chum?”

Dick, who visited Manor for a weekend, barely stifled his laughter while Tim stared at his empty coffee mug like it personally betrayed him. Cass just wore her usual knowing and mischievous smile.

Damian shifted in his chair, hands clenching on butter knife. He was nervous and suddenly Bruce dreaded the answer he was about to hear.

“I don’t see how me sharing this information would change anything. It won’t be used to cause harm to anyone but it’s necessary in the extracurricular project I just started.”

“Dami, what project?” Dick asked, voice oozing with genuine curiosity and excitement. He was almost bouncing.

“I don’t want to disclose it.”

“Is this a hero or civilian type of deal?”

Damian didn’t look any of them in the eyes, both hands clenching on his seat as he kept shifting. Bruce narrowed his eyes. Was his youngest… flustered?

“Civilian”

“Alright, great” Dick swung back with single clap, almost tripping his chair over “I think B won’t have anything against you using his rouge gallery, will he?” Man knew his oldest son well enough to recognize his ‘don’t you dare to disagree’ tone. He was confused but there wasn’t any harm so he nodded with affirmative hum.

“Thank you, Father”

Boy practically inhaled rest of his food and rushed outside. Despite all his training and all his efforts, they clearly saw his excitement. Tim pinched himself and returned to staring at his mug.

“Cass, have you seen what I’ve seen or am I overreacting?” Dick asked, barely restraining his enthusiasm. Girl nodded eagerly, shoving more crumbs into her mouth. Young man cheered, throwing his hands up.

“What have I missed?” Tim mumbled, frowning a little.

“BABY BAT HAS A CRUSH!”

Cass nodded again with wide smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Who were they? What did he know about them? Was Protocol 3r0s started? Did someone run a background check already? What could they do if they somehow hurt Damian? Was this person a risk to their identities? Oh gods, oh no.

He probably will have to do The Talk™.

He always dreaded having The Talk, with any of his kids. He felt The Talk with Damian would be even worse. Understandably so.

“Also sleep in at least three da-”

“Fuck off, dick.”

“Was this insult or-”

His children remained obvious to how much work it meant, cheering and sassing each other like they often did.

*-*-*

Damian did not know how it was possible but he lowered his guard enough to get caught.

"What are you doing?" Brown choked out after they stared at each other for a long moment.

"It does not concern you–"

"You're rummaging through my wardrobe, not many things concern me more and also, that's frickin creepy don't do it to anyone outside of the family"

She did have a point however he was not convinced it would be the correct approach if he shared his plan. Father's wards (even unofficial like Brown) tended to make assumptions and overreact based on these conjectures. Dani wasn't easy to scare off but he didn't want to check if his family would manage. They often did things thought to be impossible.

He tried to get away but the blonde stood fiercely in a door, leaving the window as the only way out. He wasn't this desperate. Yet.

Girl looked more and more angry at his silence. He had to give her some answers.

Now that he actually considered it, she could be a useful asset. She was far better versed in women's fashion and if he phrased it correctly, he wouldn't even need to bribe her. Question was, how should he phrase it?

"I have an acquaintance- I have a friend," he corrected himself "from the animal shelter I volunteer at. She mentioned wanting to try out more 'girlish style' and asked for my opinion. I wanted to see if you had any clothes that would fit her. She is smaller than me so I thought that whatever I take, it wouldn't be missed." 

Brown grinned with an unsettling gleam in her eyes. He suddenly regretted opening his mouth if not coming to this room in the first place. 

"Say no more, I have a plan Demon Child"

[sysig]

Now that they can, would they want to spend a lot of time together? (Patreon)

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[spacemancharisma]

.

[coquelicoq]

i really have almost the entire range of possible grandmother naming conventions represented. the stepgrandmothers are mrs. [last name], [first name], aunt [first name], and grandma [first name]. the biological grandmother is grammy. the great-grandmother was gram. i'm just missing a grandma [last name] but i think other that that i've covered all the levels of formality available in my culture.

[lovinglin]

My best bet in lore posting is if I just don't think abt it too much

[my-current-obsession]

I gotta say, it took me a bit to really get into Rune Factory 3 (in fact when I first got the game and tried it out I quit after like two hours and didn't touch it for a few months just because the gameplay was a bit janky and it was missing some quality-of-life stuff I was used to having in 4 and 5 and I got really frustrated), but on my second foray into the game it really sucked me in. I might even like the story and especially the romance aspect better than the other games.

I really appreciate that the romance is a forced part of the narrative; you literally can't access the final dungeon and beat the game until you pick a girl to marry. And BECAUSE of that, this game went hard on actually developing the girls and giving you ample time to spend with them. The request system basically functions as a "route" for each girl, and while I've only completed (9/9 one-time quests done) a few of them (Raven, Daria, Marian) I've really enjoyed everything thus far and felt the relationships develop from strangers to friends to love.

And unlike 4 and 5 where I have clear favorites in terms of who to marry, I honestly don't know who I'm going to pick yet. The only girls I'm NOT particularly interested in are Carmen, Colette, and Kuruna. All the other girls are great and I'd be happy to marry any of them, though I AM leaning towards Raven, Marian, or Sakuya (who I WOULD have completed already if not for some of her events being locked behind plot progression...).

[archerstreet]

okay ventpost time im bored and my period is late

[madesofgold]

.

[soupblr]

going through this schema therapy pdf and relating so hard

[valandherweekofwonders]

i just want to stop feeling suicidal so constantly and i want to stop having my paranoia spirals and i want to have peaceful sleeps without night terrors and i want to feel safe in my body and in my own space and i want to eat and i want to not be so overwhelmed by my psychosis and i want to be over everything that kennedy did to me but i also really wish i could contact him again so i could deck him in the fucking face and then i call c and ask her what the fuck why the fuck did she do that and beg beg beg my family to leave the church that is so clearly harming them and dooming them to tragedies.... and so on...