#the au contemplation of a lifetime

[canadianno]

The brain is such an interesting thing actually. Why are my coping mechanisms what they are.... they're not even that bad they're just very strange?? Instead of bullying myself I bully the blorbos.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

CAMGIRL ELLIE

Camgirl Ellie AU: Ellie Williams x Fem! reader

Description: Ellie is a broke college student whose options are either selling weed on campus or doing filthy things on live for her mainly female audience. When another famous camgirl joins one of her lives, she is about to have the collab of a lifetime.

Content / Warnings: Femme camgirl reader, headcannon-style fic, explicit content, Jesse and Dina make cameos woah, Ellie is all cute and nervous for the first half, masturbation on camera, fingering & oral sex, use of strap-ons, reader is on receiving end, feminine reader, use of petnames (baby and mamas), breeding kinks, mult. orgasms. Enjoy the ride.

Word Count: 3.3k

★ Camgirl Ellie who is a sophomore in college, so broke and extremely desperate come with the territory. Like, Taco Bell is a luxury broke, and desperate as in she has applied to every job around campus. She even thought about dealing for a while, but as much as she loves a good smoke sesh, she'd rather not risk getting kicked out of school for something as dumb as selling blunts.

★ Camgirl Ellie who laughed when her friend Jesse suggested her being a camgirl.

"Why the fuck would I give old creepy dudes jerk-off material?"

Jesse laughed, grabbing a handful of cheetos from the bag in her hand. "Dude, you wouldn't be doing it for men. I mean, look at you." Jesse took a good, hard look at his friend; the several silver rings across her five fingers, a short-sleeve blue button up layered over a white wife-pleaser, and for god's sake, a pair of jorts that only Ellie could pull off. "You're clearly not for the male gaze."

After much (15 minutes) contemplation, she decided that maybe it'd be fun to get attention from girls and money at the same time.

★ Camgirl Ellie who is actually rather awkward and quiet around girls in the real world, cursing "fuck" under her breath when she sees a pretty girl but just doesn't know how to impress women in a way that doesn't come off as too forward or weird. That being said, she actually likes having a persona online where she can say anything she wants, and she definitely abuses the fact that she is allowed to say anything she truly feels like saying, and women will go crazy for it.

Sitting on her couch, propping up her iphone 11 on the coffee table with a pop socket she got like, 6 years ago so that the fans have a wonderful view of her stroking a strap-on with cheap lube she picked up from her local Walmart. Her bush is slightly peeking out from the harness, and the fans are getting filthy. Not as filthy as camgirl Ellie, though.

"Fuck, feels so good on my clit.." she groans, throwing her head back dramatically.

dykeluvr69 commented: oh my god y'all her happy trail i'm throbbing

wet4williams commented: i wish i could ride that strap

andersonsabs33 commented: mid💀

Ellie squints, anticipating all the thirsty comments, and scoffs at one, her hand jerking away from the silicone shaft for a moment to tell off some random.

"Suck my dick, andersonabs33."

fairydustonmyclit_2 commented: me next please!!

★ Camgirl Ellie who doesn't always have to be explicit to even get views. She finds that focusing the camera on her fingers while strumming her guitar can work wonders online. If she has had an exhausting day or is feeling anxious about getting naked in front of an overwhelmingly growing audience, she can always just show off her hands or say sweet things to her fans.

★ Camgirl Ellie who is not a virgin. She's had a few past girlfriends, no casual sex, but is pretty experienced from her long-term relationships. That being said, she never once has considered doing actual sex on camera for money. That changes when another famous (and nearby) camgirl joins her livestream.

Ellie's once again on her couch, two fingers doing figure eights on her clit as the view count rises. She's basically man-spreading to give her girls the best view possible, and not holding back from letting out breathy little groans and loud curses. Her fans go crazy when she has her tits out, so her sports bra is hitched up, her perky tits free and her nipples stiff.

"F-Feels so good, holy shit, wanna cum for my girls so bad," she groans, closing her eyes. Ellie doesn't view real masturbation as anything like her online work; if she were actually to be playing with her pussy all alone with no audience, she'd cum by now. But that doesn't make a profit, no. Longer time is important, and the more she ups the antics, teases her fans, the more comments can come in. The more donations arise and all that good shit.

Ellie teases her entrance with her middle finger, and her eyes flutter open as she eases the digit past her puffy folds.

She reads through the chat to hold out from cumming too quickly.

elliessluttygirl commented: i wish that was my hand playing w ur pussy ellie:(

Ellie smiles, curling her finger and moaning. She smiles lazily. "Yeah, slutty girl..wish it was yours, too."

As she adds a second finger upon the majority request in her comment section, she pauses at the feed.

urfavfemme has joined the livestream. Say hi!

Holy fuck. Ellie hasn't seen your videos, but the pink checkmark on your name means you're verified. Suddenly, Ellie is nervous as hell now. How is she supposed to act now, with some famous, probably fine woman watching her? She swallows and continues bucking up into her palm, but her fingers are slightly shaky now.

urfavfemme commented: ur pussy is so pretty.

Ellie laughs nervously at that. What the fuck is happening? But maybe she can use the situation to her advantage.

" 'urfavfemme', huh? Cute username," she coos, a little breathlessly because now she's getting closer to cumming, her nerves dying down as her fingers massage her sensitive walls. Ellie is so fucked up, she thinks to herself. She doesn't even know what you look like yet, why is she getting so crazed by you complimenting her?

urfavfemme commented: i wanna see that pretty pussy squirt please..

Ellie moans and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, trying to wrap her head around it all. She gets dozens of comments just like these, thirsty ass girls drooling to her playing with herself or showing off a strap-on. Why is it that the idea of you, a self-proclaimed 'femme' making these comments is the thing that makes her belly all hot with the familiar ache of true need?

pixiestickpussy commented: holy shit this is so hot

wet4williams commented: is it just me or is smth going on with ellie and this camgirl chick

imonherefortheporn69 commented: i checked out the girl's content she's super hot dude

Ellie's head is spinning at the whole situation. It's overwhelming and she wants to just turn off the camera, but she's so close and getting desperate to cum. It is just so fucking hard when all of her girls are in an uproar over you.

urfavfemme commented: stretch me out on those fingers.

"Oh- Oh, my fucking god!! 'm cumming-" Ellie can barely keep herself from crying out as the waves shoot through her body throughout, a finger covering her clit to extend the orgasm that hits her so deeply. Her fingers are soaked more than usual, juices trickling down her knuckles. Her other palm is massaging over her tits, and for a moment, she forgets she is on camera. Forgets the thousands of people watching her, probably fingering themselves just like her. The though that is usually so overwhelming is forgotten.

Her body is warm, and if she could describe how this nut feels right about now, she'd say it's hot pink. It's light lightning, and for some reason, all she can repeat in her head is "thank you thank you thank you urfavfemme" because seriously, this has been one of the most insane experiences of her life. When she finally comes down, she has to take a few moments to catch her breath.

The aftermath of it all hits her. She did not just cum like she does in private. The usually dramatic orgasms the viewers got are nothing like that, and for what? Some girl she hasn't even seen yet?

The comments are going off, praising her and thirsting like she's never seen before, but she is still panting and flushed on her couch.

urfavfemme has donated $1000.

urfavfemme has left the livestream. Bye!

Ellie is quickly turning off the stream with a half-assed goodbye, and collapsing back onto her couch. She cannot believe that she just lost control like that. Her mind is processing the huge donation, too. A whole thousand is more than she's ever gotten in donations on a single live. How famous are you?

Ellie can't dwell much, because as her body cools down, she realizes how soaked the towel she is sitting on is. Oh, my god. She actually squirted on live.

★ Camgirl Ellie who searches up your username on google a few days following the squirting contest incident, and is soon brought to a url that hits her like a flashbang as soon as it loads on her ancient ass laptop. Her screen is covered in pink, and a pretty white font with your username is front and center. She then sees your face and nearly nuts. You're fucking gorgeous, definitely out of her league.. How are you the same girl that talked her through an intense orgasm over a livestream the other night?

★ Camgirl Ellie who spends the next few hours watching your videos. She has found a new obsession, that's for sure.

She has hearts in her eyes watching you bounce on a fairly-sized dildo suctioned to your floor, helplessly groaning with a hand down her basketball shorts as your pussy swallows the length of the toy. Your moans are what really gets her. You sound like anything but the pornstars she's heard, instead moaning like you're really getting it. And suddenly, Ellie wants to be the one to give it to you.

★ Camgirl Ellie who types out various messages to send to your gmail so conveniently linked on your website until she finally settles on something not too awkward

To: urfavfemme@gmail.com

From: elliewilliams19@gmail.com

Subject: Collab? Dear urfavfemme,

You were in my livestream the other day. I'm Ellie from the camgirl website, and I wanna know if you'd like to collab? (If you're around my area, of course).

Reading it back after she sent it, she sighs. That looks way too fucking professional for a request to do porn together.

★ Camgirl Ellie who anxiously waits for about an hour, not even Borderlands 3 able to distract her before she finally gets an email back.

To: elliewilliams19@gmail.com

From: urfavfemme@gmail.com

Subject: Collab?

Hi!! I'm in Fairview, WY if you're near? I'd love to collab:)

★ Ellie, who is freaking the fuck out now. She hadn't had sex in two years since Dina traumatized her with the worst break-up possible, and you're one of the hottest girls she's ever seen. Plus, she is only an hour away from you.

Jesse laughs when she rants to him about the whole thing.

"So you've got a fine ass girl offering to have sex with you? What's the problem?"

Ellie scoffs and gives him a glare, but there isn't any true malice. "That's the problem, idiot! She is way hotter than me. Plus, I haven't even had any practice in so long. What if I can't make her cum? What if I embarrass myself on live in front of both of our fan-"

"C'mon man, you gotta get out of your head about this. Does she seem nice?"

Ellie nods.

Jesse sighs, and slightly softens his tough-love look. "Look, she is probably just as nervous as you are. Give yourself a break, and go have fun with the pretty femme girl."

★ Camgirl Ellie who shows up at your apartment a little earlier than she meant to. She didn't mean to speed, but she was nervous on the road, anxiously tapping the steering wheel.

★ Camgirl Ellie who is greeted by you in a robe and what she assumes is going to be either nothing or lingerie underneath. That makes her heart beat even faster. She feels like she's gonna puke from how nervous she is, you're even more gorgeous up close.

★ Camgirl Ellie who takes in your bedroom compared to her own small apartment's bedroom. You've got posters covering your walls of various artists like PinkPantheress and Joan Jett and the Blackhearts; your bedsheets match your whole feminine vibe, and you have a whole camera set up with a stand. There's a box with a harness and different sizes of dildos inside of it. All of this is making Ellie even more nervous, like, shit her pants nervous.

You seem to take notice of her nerves, because you have clear concern on your face as you guide her to sit on your bed.

"You okay, Ellie?" voice so sweet and soothing, it could make her heart stop.

"Yeah..I'm okay.." she sighs, and anxiously chews on her lip, "I'm just like, me.. and you're super hot and all-"

Ellie's self-doubt is choked off when you cup her face, leaning in. "Do you know why I donated?"

"Why?" Ellie sounds shaky, a little confused on where this is going.

You give her a sweet smile, your glossy lips catching the ceiling light. You lean in even closer so that you can speak quietly, intimately. "I thought that you were easily one of the hottest camgirls I've ever seen on the website."

Ellie's eyebrows shoot up at that. "No fuckin' way you think that.."

Your smile doesn't falter, and you lean in even closer. "I do. I want you to fuck me, Ellie."

★ Camgirl Ellie who didn't know how passionately one could eat a pussy until she got a taste of yours. With the camera all set up and the live on, viewers roll in quickly at the promise of a collab between their two favorite lesbian camgirls. Ellie never forgot about the camera when it came to her solo steams, but you just have an effect on her that makes her head dizzy and her pussy throb, and all of a sudden she has her tongue deep in your wet pussy, alternating between tonguing your hole and tasting your clit. You're sprawled out on your bed, completely naked with Ellie between your thighs, and your moans are even louder than usual. They're angelic sounds that make the comments roll in like crazy.

dykeluvr69 commented: ellie eats pussy like a madman and i am so jealous rn

andersonabs33 commented: she's too sloppy with it, slow tf down girl.

This time, Ellie is far too blissed out devouring you to even pull away and tell the troll to fuck off.

"Mmmph, pussy tastes so fuckin' good.." You can't make out her muffled declaration, but the vibrations on your clit have you creaming for her.

Your pussy just sings for her. Three orgasms in, and she hasn't even used the strap she's wearing yet. She wants to savor every soft whimper you make when she nibbles on your neck before making out with you, tongue shoving into your mouth so that you can take your own perfect pussy on her tongue.

★ Camgirl Ellie whose fingers curl inside of you relentlessly, pumping into you, coaxing out orgasms like it's nothing. To her though, it is truly everything. You cry like you're pleading for her to never stop. It feels like hours that she's been tending to the perfect cunt you've got between your legs, and she doesn't know where she even learned half of the shit she's done. It isn't too hard to please you when she craves your sounds, though. She craves the feeling of your thighs squeezing the apples of her cheeks, making her lightheaded.

★ Camgirl Ellie who saves best for last, finally rubbing girthy silicone against your clit, making you whine in the process. That sound goes straight to her clit.

She grins with a newfound confidence, one she think that she has been given from a witchy ritual or something, not lesbian camgirl sex.

"You want me to fuck you good, baby? Fuck you 'till you squirt on my dick like you made me squirt?"

"Please, fuck, Ellie..." You're babbling nonsense at this point, legs spread wide and knees almost to your ears at you nearly sob for her dick.

"C'mon mamas, I wanna hear you beg for me." She taps the tip against your clit repeatedly, holding you down by the back your thighs to keep you from trying to squirm for more.

"Please, Ellie!! Fuck me, make me cum. I want your dick."

Ellie groans as she finally parts your soaked folds with the tip, sinking into your heat slowly as to not hurt you, but she soon finds that your walls are just swallowing her completely. All that foreplay must've really paid off.

★ Camgirl Ellie who practically goes from a nervous wreck to a pornstar in a matter of minutes, because she insists that she can feel how tight you are around her huge dick.

"Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck this pussy so good, gonna make you scream my name." She manhandles your legs around her waist so that she can hold your hips while she pounds into you, creating a whole bonfire of heat in your pussy.

"Feel you so deep in me, Ellie!" You almost break when she starts leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

"Yeah? Gonna make you feel me in your tummy, mamas. Gonna put a baby in you." Where in the hell did that come from? You both roll with it, if not getting even more riled up by the idea of Ellie cumming in you and knocking you up.

"Please, Ellie. 'm g-gonna cum for you-" before you can finally have your orgasm, it's ripped away as she pulls out of you. You can't even protest or make a loud whine before Ellie is flipping you onto your stomach, frantic to tuck one of your pink pillows underneath your tummy. She lines back up with your sloppy hole, slamming back into it to earn herself an actual sob from you.

You cry into the pillow, not from pain at all. No, this is probably one of the best fucks you've ever had in your life. Ellie doesn't start slow again but rather pistons her hips into yours, bony hips slamming into the fat of your ass upon each thrust until you finally get the intense orgasm you need.

"Pleaseknockmeup-" you cum with a broken cry, a couple euphoric tears streaming down your face. Your poor bedsheets, all soaked from you and Ellie's pussies and your tears. At this angle with the pillow raising you, you believe you can truly feel Ellie all up in your stomach. The waves are more like knots of a rope being snapped in half deep inside of you, and Ellie only keeps you riding the pleasure with her little sloppy grunts audible behind you.

Ellie groans as the friction to her own clit is vastly more intense with each grind to meet your body, and now she is humping your ass to get herself off. After she cums with a "gonna fucking cum in this pussy", she goes limp on top of you, her sweaty body covering yours, her tits pressed against your back in a way that is more comforting than arousing now.

★ Camgirl Ellie and you who entirely forget about the live and fall asleep in your bed together, snuggled up with you the big spoon, and the cum-coated strap on thrown somewhere across the room. Your bodies are flush against each other and your hands are wrapped around Ellie’s stomach, holding her closely.

fairydustonmyclit_2 commented: aw this is actually kind of cute

pixiestickpussy commented: i wanna be sandwiched between them wtf

limpbizkitsbitch commented: ts gonna be awkward when they wake up

andersonabs33: quit being a miserable bitch

limpbizkitsbitch: ironic coming from you🌝

andersonabs33 has left the live. Bye!

[mr-cha-n]

Merger & Acquisition (Of My Heart)

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x gn!reader

Genres: Angst, fluff, crack, office romance AU

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, sexual insinuations, bad decision making

Word Count: 17.2k

Summary: Jeonghan thought navigating corporate mergers was hard—turns out, navigating corporate mergers with his ex is harder.

A/N: Missing Jeonghan hours

For more office romance, please check out Glass Towers!

"Jeonghan, just trust me! It's gonna be perfect!"

You're grinning, and it’s that grin. The one that made Jeonghan's heart do that ridiculous, fluttering thing the first time you flashed it his way. The one that’s practically a cheat code for his soul. Your eyes are sparkling like you just cracked the secret to world peace—or maybe just how to make him melt like a popsicle in the sun.

You’re gesturing to something behind him, but honestly, he’s not even looking. To take his eyes off you? Not in this lifetime, buddy.

"I’m serious!" you press, eyes wide with wild excitement. "We should get matching sweaters!"

He stares, blinking slowly like maybe he’s hearing things. You look so absurdly excited, like you've proposed something truly genius. And, for a second, just for a second, he almost gets it. Matching sweaters... Huh. He squints.

"I swear to God," he mutters, almost in awe of your audacity. "You've got a one-track mind, you know that?"

But you're already dragging him inside the store, ugging him toward a rack of sweaters in shades so painfully pastel, they might be illegal. You’re holding up two—one a disturbingly washed-out pink and the other an equally offensive lavender - and beam at him, radiating enough joy to power a small city.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at the monstrosities in your hands. "Are you trying to publicly obliterate my dignity?" he asks, deadpan. "Because I’m pretty sure this is some kind of crime."

Your laugh—sweet and impossibly bright—bounces off the walls. It’s so loud, it feels like the store itself is laughing with you. And for a split second, he doesn’t even care that you’re suggesting he wears an offence to fashion. All he hears is your laughter. And, okay, it is contagious. He can’t help but chuckle, his chest warming even as he contemplates his future in pastel hell.

"I’ll wear it if you wear it," you challenge, a wicked glint in your eyes, practically daring him to back out.

And you know Jeonghan can't resist a dare.

He crosses his arms, a perfect picture of exaggerated seriousness, mirroring how seriously you’re taking this whole thing. "Fine," he sighs dramatically. "But only because I’m too exhausted to argue with you."

Before he can even finish his thought, you're already wrapping your arms around his neck, giggling into his ear like it’s the most precious sound on earth. And just like that, any resentment he might have had about wearing a sweater straight out of a fashion crime scene? Gone. The swell of his heart forgives you, even as he silently prepares to suffer through the world’s most embarrassing outfit.

"I love you sooo much," you murmur, squeezing him a little tighter.

And, just before he can say it back, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Distracted, he fumbles for it like it’s the most urgent thing in the world—because, hey, maybe it’s a work thing or, God forbid, a text from his mom about dinner plans. When he looks up, you’re gone. The matching sweaters are gone. The street is just a blur again, and the store, with its obnoxious neon lights, has disappeared completely.

For a heartbeat, Jeonghan’s standing there, staring at the space where you were, feeling like he’s just been dropped into some weird alternate universe. The air feels thick, heavy, and for a split second, everything just feels—wrong. Empty. Off.

And in that moment, he realizes with a gut-punch of clarity: it’s all slipped away, like sand through his fingers. He’s standing in the middle of a street that doesn’t make sense, holding onto an empty promise he can’t possibly keep, his hand still tingling where you once touched him. And all he can hear now is the echo of your laugh, so bright, so full of life, fading into nothing.

And just as quickly, before he even has time to breathe, the dream shatters. Gone. Like it was never there at all.

Jeonghan wakes up with a jolt, his chest tight like a too-small sweater, heart thumping like it’s trying to escape his ribcage. The sheets are tangled around him like he'd been wrestling them all night, and he blinks at the daylight streaming through the window, a little too bright, a little too real. For a second, he’s not sure if he’s still stuck in the dream, his body caught in some weird limbo between sleep and being awake.

That laugh. That stupid, infectious laugh. It hangs in the air, teasing him like a ghost that refuses to leave. Jeonghan’s hand brushes absently over his chest, like he’s trying to wipe the sound away, like it hasn’t completely lodged itself in his mind.

“Stupid,” he mutters, shaking his head and tossing the sheets off himself, hoping to shake off whatever weird spell the dream’s put on him.

By the time he’s staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, his mind is a chaotic mess of swirling thoughts. Mostly, he’s thinking about the dream and how ridiculous it is that it’s still making his heart beat a little too fast. And then, of course, there’s the thing he can’t shake—the stupid, pastel sweaters.

He scoffs at his reflection, splashing water on his face like it’ll somehow help him wake up properly. Matching sweaters, he thinks bitterly. Really

Getting dressed feels like a chore, like he's moving through molasses. His eyes drift over his usual black jeans and plain tees, but then—something catches his eye. A flash of pink, hidden at the back of his closet like some kind of forbidden treasure, tucked behind other, more respectable pieces.

Jeonghan hesitates.

His fingers brush over it, and for a moment, he feels as though he's standing back in that ridiculous store, the weight of that challenge still hanging in the air. He almost laughs at himself. You can’t be serious, he thinks. But before he can stop himself, his hands are already pulling it out.

“I’m not doing this,” he mutters to himself, but even he can tell his voice is a little too uncertain, like he’s trying to convince someone else.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan stands in front of the mirror again, the soft, unreasonably pastel pink sweater clinging to his frame. He tilts his head to the side, frowning at his reflection. Then, he looks back at the sweater.

It's ... fine. Actually, it's kind of comfortable. And, okay, it’s not nearly as terrible as he thought it would be. The color is soft, gentle—more like a whisper than an explosion of pastel horror, and the fabric feels a bit like a soft cloud. 

Of course, none of that changes the fact that it’s ridiculous that he’s wearing it.

“What’s wrong with me?” he laughs, shaking his head at himself, unable to stop the sound from spilling out.

And then your laugh—that bright, carefree, spark-of-light laugh—flashes through his mind again. It’s like the room is a little less dark when he thinks about it, and, for just a second, he lets himself imagine that maybe... maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad to go along with it. The matching sweaters, the ridiculous plans, that kind of carefree joy only you could make him feel.

But he's alone now. And the sweater is just that. A sweater.

He shakes his head, adjusting it one more time, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest as he thinks about you—your voice, your touch, your laugh—and focus on just getting out the door. He grabs his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder like he’s trying to shake off the last remnants of the dream.

“Fine,” he mutters to himself. “It’s stupid. But I’m wearing it.”

And if anyone dares to comment on it, he’s donating it to the first charity store he passes on his way home.

Jeonghan's brain feels like a blender on full speed as he pushes through the glass doors of the office building, his shoes clicking against the marble floor. He steps into the start-up chaos, where the morning energy is already off-the-charts: people darting between desks, having phone conversations that are somehow both urgent and completely pointless, and juggling coffee cups that are half-full of caffeine and stress. And there’s something else hanging in the air, something that makes him feel like he’s forgotten something super important, but of course, he has no idea what that is.

He shrugs it off and marches to his desk, where Joshua's already sitting, a fresh cup of coffee in hand and laptop open in front of him. He looks like he's already been up for hours - effortlessly composed, a picture of fcous while Jeonghan has barely kept it together this morning.

He drops his bag on the desk with a dramatic thud, letting out a long sigh. 

Joshua glances at him, then at his sweater, then back up at Jeonghan’s face like he’s trying to piece together some kind of puzzle.

"I thought you didn't do pastels?"

“I don’t,” Jeonghan responds immediately, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to untangle his thoughts. “But… it’s a long story, actually. Not one I’m getting into right now.”

Joshua’s lips twitch, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh. And I'm sure it has nothing to do with a certain someone who shall remain nameless waltzing back into your life?"

Jeonghan freezes, his whole body going cold like he's just been caught in a lie. How in the hell did Joshua figure that out?

He forces a laugh, but it’s way too high-pitched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, his voice cracking like a bad sitcom.

But Joshua isn’t letting it slide. “Sure. And I’m definitely not looking at someone who’s still wearing a sweater that belongs to their emotional turmoil.”

Jeonghan snorts. "Oh, please, the only thing emotional about this is how much I regret wearing it." He waves his hand dismissively, but can’t hide the way he checks the sweater like he's trying to make sure it’s still presentable. “Anyway, what’s going on today? Please tell me we're not having another one of those ‘I-just-want-to-innovate-the-industry’ creative meetings. I’m not sure I can sit through another round of ‘brainstorming’ where I’m expected to solve all our problems with a Pinterest board.”

Joshua’s face glitches as he shuts his laptop with a dramatic click. “Tell me you’re joking?”

Jeonghan blinks. 

Joshua sighs, long and slow.

"The merger? I know you remember that the merger is happening today, right?"

"Merger? Oh. That merger." Jeonghan’s brain starts scrambling for clarity, trying to sort out the chaos of thoughts. They’ve been talking about this merger for weeks now—a rival company with a reputation for being way more corporate and buttoned-up than their own start-up chaos. Jeonghan hadn’t really paid attention. Too busy juggling project deadlines, chasing creative briefs, and making sure everyone’s sushi orders were on point.

But now, with Joshua’s reminder, the weight of reality hits him. Today’s the day. The day they officially merge with the enemy—and, if we’re being honest, it’s a little more corporate than he ever thought he’d get. Also, probably the reason for those stress dreams last night.

Jeonghan grimaces. "Right. The merger." He sighs, slumping in his chair. “I think I just blocked it out of my mind for the past week because I’m not sure I can handle becoming corporate Jeonghan.”

Joshua chuckles, setting his coffee down. "That’s the point of today. They’re bringing in their big bosses to meet with us—this afternoon, right after the all-hands meeting. It’s officially happening. The big, serious meeting where we all sit around and pretend to care about ‘synergy’ and ‘optimisation.’” He does air quotes with his fingers, rolling his eyes. "But, don't worry - you won't be corporate Jeonghan. You'll be corporate Mr Yoon."

Jeonghan groans, leaning back in his chair dramatically. “‘Synergy,’ optimisation...” he repeats, doing an exaggerated version of Joshua’s air quotes. “Honestly, I think I’d rather go back to bed and wake up in a parallel universe where I’m not wearing this sweater and we’re not merging. Could we please pretend we’re still a bunch of creative geniuses who just want to make awesome things? Is that too much to ask?”

Joshua smirks, clearly enjoying Jeonghan’s theatrics. “It’s the price of progress, my friend. Besides, I’m sure you’ll do just great. Just remember: don’t look too enthusiastic about the merger. We’ve got to keep some of that ‘creative chaos’ spirit alive, right?”

“Right,” Jeonghan mutters, still adjusting his sweater. “Creative chaos—that’s what we’ll call it. But, seriously, I’m really hoping they don’t ask me to do the whole ‘powerpoint presentation’ thing today. I’m already two cups of coffee in, and the only thing I can think of is whether this sweater’s a crime against fashion or a step toward self-expression.”

“Why not both?” Joshua grins, clearly enjoying the chaos of it all. “Maybe your sweater will be the key to saving us from corporate hell. You never know.”

Jeonghan shoots him a look. “If this sweater saves us from anything, I’ll personally make sure we keep it as a company mascot.”

“Deal,” Joshua says, grinning wider as he takes a sip of his coffee.

The conference room looks like a page out of Jeonghan's worst nightmares: sleek, polished, and cold enough to make an ice cube look like it’s on vacation. A long, minimalist table stretches down the middle, surrounded by chairs so expensive they probably cost more than the rest of the startup's furniture.

Jeonghan slides into the room with Joshua just behind him, trying his best to look like he belongs in a room where every person looks like they could run a Fortune 500 company. He adjusts the collar of his pastal pink sweater, wondering for the hundredth time if he's made a grave mistake. But, well, it's too late to back out now. 

Joshua, in the seat beside him, has immediately begun typing away on his laptop, not a hint of nervousness in his posture. Jeonghan, on the other hand, is doing everything he can to stop himself from fidgeting. He's been in plenty of meetings before, but this one feels different. It's like everyone is playing on a higher level - every handshake more formal, every "good afternoon" more stiff.

He slouches further into his chair, doing his best to hide behind the carefully natural expressions of the other startup team members—everyone’s pretending they’re not deeply unprepared for this meeting (Jeonghan knows they are).

Just as the final few stragglers file in, Jeonghan hears it again. 

The laugh.

It’s quiet, almost imperceptible, but it’s unmistakable. That laugh. The one that makes his stomach do that ridiculous fluttering thing. Jeonghan freezes, his hands stiff at his sides like he’s a statue trying to pretend it’s not about to crumble. His pulse quickens, and he does his best to shake the thought out of his brain. I'm hearing things, he tells himself. It’s probably just my brain playing tricks after that stupid dream

But no. It’s there again—soft, bubbling, infectious laughter, drifting from somewhere off to the side. Jeonghan blinks, his head snapping towards the sound like it’s the answer to a riddle he didn’t know he was solving.

And then he sees you.

There you are, standing at the front of the room, radiating effortless confidence in a sharply tailored suit, like you belong in the boardroom as much as Jeonghan belongs in a hoodie.

His heart stops.

It can't be. 

He blinks. And blinks again. But you're still there. You’re still smiling, your grin as radiant as it ever was, as you exchange pleasantries with the higher-ups from the startup. The same grin that used to make Jeonghan question his entire life philosophy, every single time you flashed it his way.

What the hell?

There's no way. You can't possibly be the one running things on this side of the merger. This has to be a joke, right? His head spins, his thoughts running in frantic circles as the realisation dawns on him. 

You are here. In the flesh.

A hundred questions rushes though his brain all at once - how, why, when? But most of all: Why didn't I know about this?

And then it hits him. The absurdity of the situation. The dream. The sweater. The weird sense of unfinished business he'd woken up with this morning. It all seems to click in a way that makes his brain ache with the sudden weight of it all. 

Jeonghan slouches even further into his chair, if that's even possible. His stomach is in knots, and his palms are starting to get a little too clammy for comfort.

Maybe if he just... quietly gets up and leaves. Maybe if he just—

“Are you okay?” Joshua leans toward him, his voice low.

Jeonghan swallows hard, trying to keep his cool. “I—I think my ex is in charge of the merger.”

Joshua’s eyebrows furrow, confusion flashing across his face. "Yeah, I know."

Jeonghan blinks, his brain trying to process this new layer of nonsense. "You—what?"

“I thought you knew.” Joshua leans back, looking unbothered, like Jeonghan just missed a memo. “I literally brought it up this morning.”

Huh?

Oh. 

That makes more sense than Joshua knowing about the dream. 

Jeonghan’s brain is running full speed ahead, trying to piece together the puzzle of his existence in real-time, but nothing’s clicking. Joshua’s voice is just a dull hum in the background as his eyes are locked on you. There you are, standing at the front of the room, looking like you’ve just walked out of a business magazine. His mind keeps bouncing between the memory of you in those casual clothes, laughing over pizza, and the version of you now, all polished and corporate, like you’ve somehow always belonged here. It’s dizzying. How the hell did this happen

He forces himself to breathe and look away for a second, trying to center himself, but just as he’s about to look down at his hands—those traitors who are clammy and betraying him—he hears the sound of a microphone clicking on. 

Your voice.

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

And just like that, the room falls silent, hanging on every word. Your voice is smooth—confident—but there’s this little edge of warmth that makes Jeonghan’s chest tighten in a way that’s definitely not professional. He’s trying so hard not to look at you, not to let his eyes wander back to where you stand—hands moving gracefully, voice flowing effortlessly. You’re the same you he knew, but also not. Somehow both.

“Today marks an exciting new chapter for both our teams,” you continue, “and I’m thrilled to be standing here with all of you as we embark on this new journey together. As many of you know, this merger is the culmination of months of careful planning and preparation. We’re combining our strengths to create something that will redefine the industry. And we’re all here today to ensure that we’re setting the right course.”

The words are professional, perfectly crafted, and so very corporate—but it’s the way you speak them that gets to Jeonghan. It’s the way you still carry that spark, that undeniable energy, as though nothing’s changed. As though you’ve just slid seamlessly from one world to another.

Jeonghan rubs his forehead, wishing his brain would just catch up with reality. But no. Instead, it’s like everything around him is shifting, the room suddenly way too big and his sweater way too bright for comfort.

You continue with the presentation, talking about key figures from both companies, introducing executives and senior members—those faceless people Jeonghan will never need to remember—but then… you pause. Your gaze sweeps over the room, and then it locks with his.

Jeonghan freezes. Time slows, or maybe it speeds up. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat, thumping against his ribcage as if it’s trying to break out.

You don’t look away.

For a split second, Jeonghan wonders if he imagined it. Maybe his mind is just playing tricks on him, but no—no, there’s a shift in your expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

Then—oh, God—your gaze drops to his sweater.

You stop mid-sentence.

The room goes quiet, all eyes on you, but Jeonghan knows it’s him you’re looking at. His sweater. Specifically, that sweater.

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the podium as you glance at his sweater—that damn sweater. He watches, horrified, as the corners of your mouth twitch—not with amusement—but something else. Something close to annoyance.

He can’t breathe. His hand twitches around his collar like he might rip the damn thing off and flee the building entirely.

Then, mercifully, you clear your throat. The sound snaps through the silence like a rubber band, and for a moment, it feels like the tension might break. But still, that look—that look on your face—it doesn’t go away.

"Uh..." You stop. A beat of awkwardness. You glance at him again, brow furrowing just the tiniest bit. "I’m—I’m sorry, I just... I'm a little distracted. Let me start that again.” You take a breath, visibly steadying yourself before you continue with the presentation, but Jeonghan can hear that slight crack in your voice.

He tries to make himself invisible in his chair, sinking lower, his hands buried in his lap like he could somehow physically shrink into the chair itself. The way your lips tighten as you force yourself to focus on the presentation makes Jeonghan want to disappear.

“Oh, my God,” Jeonghan mutters under his breath, doing his best to keep his voice just quiet enough so only Joshua can hear.

Joshua just gives him a deadpan stare. “What happened? Is this because of the sweater?”

“Don’t. Please.” Jeonghan’s voice cracks, and he’s pretty sure he’s never felt more exposed in his life.

Jeonghan’s heart is still trying to hammer its way out of his chest when the meeting finally breaks. The tension in the room has been almost unbearable, and now, as everyone starts shifting in their seats, the low murmur of conversation rising, Jeonghan begins to think maybe—just maybe—he can make a quick exit. Maybe sneak out of the room and pretend this never happened.

But before he can even attempt a graceful getaway, he feels a sharp pressure on his arm, and a voice—your voice—cuts through the noise like a knife.

“Jeonghan. Now.”

There’s no mistaking the authority in your tone, the same tone you’ve always used when you were determined to get something done, to make sure things went your way. He doesn't even need to look up to know that your eyes are narrowed with a familiar intensity.

He’s being dragged down the hall, his feet barely keeping up with the determined pace you set as you pull him into a small, secluded room just off the main conference area. The door shuts with a definitive thud behind them, and it’s as if the air in the room thickens, suffocating him.

You whirl around, closing the distance between you with a look of pure exasperation on your face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is low, but it still carries the bite of someone who’s been wronged. “Wearing that ridiculous sweater—here—of all places. You knew I’d be in charge today. You knew I’d be in this room. So why? Why would you do that?”

Jeonghan, on the other hand, is trying to appear unbothered—but inside, his mind is spinning. He's suddenly very aware of how small this room feels, how close you are, how everything about you is pulling him into a vortex of confusion he does not want to be in. But outwardly, he’s just... smirking. Of course. Because what else can he do but pretend this whole thing is no big deal?

"Why would I wear a sweater to throw you off?" His voice is as nonchallent as he can muster, the words coming out cockier than he intends. With a shrug, he adds, "With or without it, you always said I was hard to ignore, didn't you?"

He sees your face twitch, your eyes narrowing further, and something about the way you stare at him makes his breath catch. Shit.

He's panicking. He's trying to hold it together, trying to keep that sharp edge in his voice, but the truth is, looking at you right now - it's like nothing's changed. It's like he's still that idiot who'd fall for you in a heartbeat. The way your gaze locks with his, the way your presence fills up the room, makes his insides twist.

It makes his chest ache.

But you don't get to know that, not anymore.

So, instead, he leans back against the door with his arms crossed, letting the smirk stretch wider on his lips. “I mean, really. Look at you.” He gestures to your perfectly tailored suit. “You’re the one who seems all riled up. Could it be that you're the one trying to throw me off? Hmm?"

You open your mouth, about to fire back some scathing retort, but Jeonghan watches your shoulders stiffen instead. You exhale a slow breath, something like frustration flickering behind your eyes.

“Jeonghan,” you begin, voice dangerously calm now, but still carrying that edge, “I’m serious. You are not making this easy. I’m just trying to do my job, and you’re in here, wearing... that. I swear to God, are you doing this on purpose?”

“Would it even matter if I was?” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, his tone light, casual, as if he doesn't feel like he’s one stupid comment away from completely combusting. “It’s not like I care what you think about my sweater. It's a free country, and I like a little colour in my life, alright?” He shrugs again, even though inside he's a mess. A nervous wreck. A miserable wreck. “You don’t get to dictate my wardrobe.”

But God, every word he says feels like it's coming out of his mouth without his permission. He watches you, sees the flicker of something that’s almost like frustration—and he can't stand it. He really can’t stand the way you're looking at him right now. He’s never been good at being calm when it comes to you.

You shake your head, running a hand through your hair in that way that’s more exasperated than anything else. “I don’t know why you do this. Why do you always make everything so complicated?”

And that’s it. Jeonghan’s breath catches, and something cracks in his chest. 

He doesn’t even know why he’s here, trying to push you away with all these stupid jokes and sarcastic comments. You’re still the one who holds all the strings in this game. Even now, even after everything, he’s still just as tangled up in you as he was back then.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, his voice finally losing its bravado. His arms uncross, and he takes a slow step toward you, his gaze falling to the ground for just a moment before he looks up again. “I guess I just can’t help myself.”

You blink, visibly taken aback, and for just a second—just a second—there’s a softening in your expression. A flicker of something.

He’s about to say something—anything—to regain his composure, but then the door swings open, and a voice from the hallway shatters the fragile moment.

“Hey, is everything alright in here?”

Jeonghan’s chest tightens again, and he forces himself to turn, pulling away from you with a rueful glance. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he says, the sarcasm back in full force. “Just having a lovely chat about fashion choices."

As you move past him toward the door, your eyes lock for just a split second, and Jeonghan can’t help but wonder if this is where everything starts unravelling again.

The door closes behind you with a quiet click, leaving Jeonghan alone in the empty room, the weight of his own confusion pressing down on him like a suffocating cloud.

He breathes out a shaky laugh. What the hell is he even doing?

Jeonghan's never been good at avoiding things - especially you. But he's trying. Really trying. 

The second he steps into the office, he practically sprints to his desk, eyes darting across the room like he’s in a spy movie and not just trying to avoid his ex at his place of employment.

It’s a solid plan. A foolproof plan.

Except, of course, the universe hates him.

“Hey, Jeonghan, did you see that email from accounting?”

He freezes.

His heart does that stupid, traitorous thing again—racing a little too fast, a little too obvious. He forces a smile, carefully ignoring the fact that you just happened to walk by at that exact moment.

And, of course, he hears you before he sees you.

The sound of your heels clicking against the floor—the same precise rhythm only you have—cuts through the noise like some cruel reminder that he’s fighting a battle he’s already lost.

“No, I didn’t,” he replies, voice too tight, too controlled. He stares at his screen, ignoring how your gaze flickers toward him for just a split second. His palms are sweating again, but he’s good at pretending.

He doesn’t even glance up at you.

Not yet.

By some miracle, Jeonghan makes it through the rest of the week relatively unscathed. He’s been ducking behind desks, taking suspiciously long coffee breaks, and strategically avoiding eye contact like it’s an Olympic sport.

But, of course, his luck has limits.

And today, at the all-hands meeting, he knows he’s finally reached the end of the track.

Everyone from both companies is gathered in the conference hall, waiting for the latest updates on the merger, and Jeonghan?

He is mentally checked out.

Completely.

He’s sitting at the very back of the room, scrolling through his phone, barely registering the corporate bullshit being discussed at the front. He’s safe. He’s comfortable.

Until—

"Jeonghan, would you mind coming up to give an update on the latest project?”

Joshua’s voice cuts through the room like a gunshot.

Jeonghan’s entire soul leaves his body.

His head snaps up, panic settling in his bones.

And then—oh, no.

Because there you are.

Sitting right in the front row.

And you’re looking directly at him.

Your eyes flick over to him, slow, deliberate, the way a cat might look at a bird right before it destroys it for sport.

Then, just to make it worse, you raise an eyebrow.

And smirk.

Not now.

Jeonghan stands up, legs way too stiff, shoulders squared like he’s heading into battle. He’s trying to look professional, trying to appear composed, but all he can think about is you.

You, sitting there with your arms crossed, wearing the exact same expression you always used to give him whenever he was desperately trying to impress you.

And the worst part?

It almost works.

Almost.

Standing at the podium, Jeonghan realizes immediately that he has made a mistake.

A huge mistake.

Because he cannot focus.

His brain is full of static noise.

The slides? No idea. The project? What even is a project? His own name? Questionable.

He starts talking—kind of. Words are coming out, but he’s not sure they mean anything.

Somewhere, in the distance, Joshua looks like he’s re-evaluating their entire friendship.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan’s mind keeps veering off track.

Because you’re there.

Right there.

Arms still crossed, head tilted, eyes locked onto him with that look. The look that says impress me. The look that used to make him try harder. The look that used to make his entire day.

And it is so distracting.

He stumbles through the rest of the presentation, barely making sense, barely keeping himself together, barely resisting the urge to die on the spot.

By the time he finally scurries back to his seat, he hears it—

The faintest whisper of laughter.

From you.

And it’s all he can do not to scream.

The Friday team dinner is supposed to be a casual affair. Just a bunch of coworkers, bonding over overpriced appetizers and painfully forced small talk. No stakes. No tension. Chill.

Except, Jeonghan has this suspicion—no, this certainty—that the universe has personally taken offense to his existence and is now actively trying to ruin him.

He walks into the restaurant and immediately spots you. Of course, you're sitting at the head of the table like you own the place. Everyone else has already sat down, their conversation filling the air with a hum of disinterested chatter. Jeonghan spots the seat that was “reserved” for him—right next to you.

“Hey, Jeonghan, come join us!” Joshua waves him over cheerfully, all but pushing him to the only empty seat at the table.

The thought of sitting next to you—of having to endure hours of the same damn tension—makes his stomach churn. But what can he do? He can’t just ... stand there and look like an idiot.

So, with a carefully hidden sigh, Jeonghan accepts his fate.

His steps are slow and deliberate as he slides into the chair, forcing a perfectly polite smile as he does. He keeps his gaze fixed ahead, not looking at you, not acknowledging the fact that you are literally right there.

But he doesn’t have to look—he feels you turn toward him. He knows you’re watching.

And then—

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The words are light, playful—too casual. But the way you say it? The way you pause just long enough to make sure he knows you’re enjoying this?

Jeonghan opens his mouth to say something snappy, something clever to deflect the growing weight between them, but instead, he just smiles—tiredly, like he’s given up trying to fight the inevitable.

“Yeah. Guess we’re stuck together again.”

He flicks a glance around the table, where everyone is too absorbed in their own conversations to notice the invisible battlefield currently forming between the two of you. But Jeonghan notices. He notices everything.

And worse, so do you.

You hum, tilting your head slightly. “I didn’t think you were the type to shy away from good company.”

There’s a bite to it. A slight challenge. A reminder of the way you two used to talk before—when the teasing was easy, when the tension was intentional.

Jeonghan exhales through his nose, willing himself to stay composed.

“Depends on the company,” he mutters, aiming for casual, but it doesn’t quite land. Not when his pulse is pounding in his ears, not when his fingers are gripping the edge of the table a little too tightly.

For a moment, there’s silence—just the lingering weight of his words.

Then, instead of responding, you just smirk and turn back to the person beside you, amusement flickering in your eyes like a silent victory.

Jeonghan barely makes it through the rest of the meal.

The conversation around him blurs into meaningless chatter, and the food tastes like cardboard because how the hell is he supposed to focus on anything when you’re right there—close enough that if he so much as shifts, his knee might brush against yours, close enough that he can still smell your perfume, close enough that every time you laugh, something in his chest tightens stupidly, unfairly, uncontrollably.

He tries so hard to focus on his plate, on anything other than you.

But his mind keeps slipping—back to old memories, back to the way you used to look at him, back to the way things were before he ruined it.

And it hits him, all at once.

How much he’s still invested in this ridiculous, unspoken battle.

How much he’s still hoping for something that’s already gone.

How impossible it is to pretend like you’re just another coworker at a casual Friday dinner when the truth is—

You’re still the only person in the room that matters.

Things take a turn for the worse.

It starts innocently enough—a vague email from his superior that’s equal parts informative and infuriating, letting him know that he’s going to be working with you on a new project. A crucial one. Something about "collaboration being key to success." 

Jeonghan can feel his blood pressure spike just reading it.

For a moment, he considers drafting a quick email to HR—maybe something professional, like:

Subject: Urgent Request Regarding Project Assignment Body: Please, for the sake of workplace productivity (and my personal sanity), put a clause in the merger agreement ensuring that Y/n and I never have to be in the same room again. Ever. Thanks.

But of course, that would be unprofessional.

So instead, Jeonghan settles for the next best thing: avoidance.

He doesn’t look at you in the office. Keeps his distance like you’re a literal bomb ticking in the corner.

But there’s no avoiding it now.

He shows up to the morning meeting, already bracing himself for the collision of chaos that’s about to unfold.

“Jeonghan, you and Y/n will handle the creative direction,” Joshua announces, voice bright and cheerful like he isn’t actively ruining Jeonghan’s life.

Jeonghan forces a smile, the kind that could probably be classified as a threat in some countries. “Great. Thrilled.”

When he finally dares to glance your way, he catches it—

The look.

Just the briefest flicker of amusement in your eyes, like you know exactly how much this is going to drive him insane.

“Just like old times, huh?” you muse, sipping your coffee, your voice smooth—too smooth.

Yeah. He hates how his stomach flips at that.

The first meeting to discuss the project is, to put it mildly, a disaster.

“Let’s start by deciding on the key themes,” you say, flipping open your laptop and pulling up a presentation.

Your eyes flicker toward him, expectant.

He shrugs it off, trying to stay neutral, focusing on the screen. “Yeah, sure.” He types quickly, trying to keep his fingers from betraying him.

Your hands brush ever-so-slightly as you both reach for the same document on the table, and for a brief second, Jeonghan feels that electric connection between you. The old chemistry that used to make every second with you feel like he was walking on fire. The kind of chemistry that used to make his pulse race. And now? He feels it all over again, like it’s been reawakened.

You pull your hand back fast, but the moment hangs in the air, heavy and undeniable. No words. But Jeonghan can see it in your eyes—annoyance.

Of course, you’re annoyed.

Because this? This thing between you? It’s still there. It’s always been there.

And neither of you know what the hell to do about it.

The project moves forward, takes shape, but so does the tension between you two.

“I think we should go with a more minimalist aesthetic,” Jeonghan suggests, his voice casual, but he knows the words are loaded.

You look at him over the rim of your coffee cup, eyes narrowing slightly. “Minimalist?” you repeat, incredulous. “Jeonghan, that’s your go-to for everything.”

“And?” he replies smoothly. “It works.”

“It’s predictable,” you shoot back, leaning forward. “You’ve been stuck in that box for ages. It’s time to try something different.” There’s the challenge. There’s the dig. Jeonghan can feel his temper flare, bubbling under the surface.

“You think you know better?” He’s a little too sharp, but it’s impossible to hold back. 

And there it is again.

That look.

The one that always made his chest tighten. The challenge. The fire. The heat. It makes his heart beat too fast, and for a split second, he’s there again, back in that night.

It’s late. The air is thick with everything you’ve both avoided saying for God knows how long. The tiny apartment is a disaster: takeout boxes strewn across the counter, half-finished projects littering the floor like ghosts of attempts never fully made.

“You never talk about what’s going on with you, Jeonghan!” You’re on your feet, pacing now, voice rising with frustration. “It’s like you’re a wall! A goddamn wall I can’t break down!”

“I’m fine,” he mutters, but even he can hear how empty it sounds. His jaw’s clenched, eyes hard as stone. “Everything’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” You slam your hands down on the table with a force that rattles everything in the room. Anger, frustration, everything spilling out like a dam that’s finally cracked. “You shut me out every time, Jeonghan. Every time! And I’m so damn tired of it! I feel like I'm the only one holding this together."

A breathy, almost humourless chuckle escapes him, but his voice stays flat, defensive. "That's not fair."

"No?" You glare at him, hurt flashing across your face like a strike of lightning. "Then tell me, when was the last time you actually tried, Jeonghan? To show up - to be here, with me, instead of just ... floating through this like it's some casual thing?"

His jaw tightens. "That's not-"

You cut him off, standing up straight now, fire in your eyes. “I tell you things, and I don’t even know if you’re listening half the time. You joke when I’m being serious. You shut down the second anything real comes up. And I—” You stop yourself, voice cracking, barely holding it together.

His fingers curl into the hem of his shirt—the same way they always do when he’s trying to keep something inside. But still, he stays silent.

And maybe that silence hurts more than anything.

"Just say something," you whisper, your voice barely there, exhaustion bleeding into every word. "Anything."

Jeonghan exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s already decided he doesn’t know how to fix this. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything—I want you to mean it.”

That hits him. Hard. He knows it’s true—he’s been so closed off for so long, pretending everything’s fine, and maybe it never was.

“I don’t need you to fix me,” he says, his voice colder than it should be, every word sharp like glass. “I just need you to stop pushing.”

You let out a dry, humourless laugh, nodding to yourself like you’ve heard it a thousand times. "Okay," you whisper, voice barely a breath. "Got it."

You stand, grabbing your coat, your bag—anything to keep your hands busy, your mind elsewhere. Jeonghan stays sitting, motionless, like maybe if he doesn’t move, none of this will be real.

And that only makes it worse. 

His voice finally breaks the silence, quiet but cutting. "So that's it?"

You freeze for half a second, then shake your head, slow. "No, Jeonghan. You ended this way before I ever did."

His breath hitches, just slightly, just enough for you to notice - but it's not enough. He doesn't stop you.

Doesn't ask you to stay.

Doesn't fight for it.

So you walk away, closing the door softly behind you. 

Jeonghan blinks, pushing the memory back as quickly as it came. The sting is still there, lingering under his skin, burning. 

"Maybe you're right," he mutters, forcing his focus back on the task at hand, pretending it’s not tearing him up inside. "I'll rethink the design."

You meet his gaze for a beat, something flickering in your eyes—satisfaction, maybe—but you don’t say a word.

The office is quiet.

Late-night quiet. The kind of quiet that settles in your bones, heavy and unmoving. The kind that makes you feel like if you breathe too loudly, you might disturb something fragile—something that’s been stretched too thin, waiting to break.

Most of the team has already left, abandoning their desks for the promise of sleep, leaving behind the low hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic click of Jeonghan’s fingers against the keyboard.

The project drags on, never-ending, details shifting like sand. But Jeonghan isn’t really focused on any of that anymore.

His mind keeps wandering.

His eyes keep drifting to you, sitting across from him, scribbling furiously on a notepad, the stack of papers in front of you growing steadily higher.

You’ve barely spoken since the argument earlier that afternoon—sharp words and stubborn silences widening the already vast distance between you. And Jeonghan is starting to wonder if this… whatever fragile truce exists between you, is about to snap.

Still, he can’t help but watch you.

The way your brow furrows in concentration. The way you bite the edge of your pen, like it’s the only thing tethering you to the room.

You look up suddenly. Your gaze meets his, and for a second, everything in the room goes still. His stomach flips.

His fingers still over the keyboard, his breath catching just enough for him to feel pathetic about it.

“Jeonghan,” you say, your voice quiet, almost tentative. “You ever think about how we used to joke about working these ridiculous hours and still getting paid like it’s a 9-to-5?”

The words catch him off guard.

Like a memory materializing out of nowhere—late nights spent in this very same office, takeout boxes stacked on the desk, laughter echoing between you as you made fun of the corporate grind, passing time with inside jokes and shared exhaustion.

His lips twitch before he can stop them. Without thinking, he mutters, “Yeah, we used to joke that if we worked this much overtime, we’d need to start paying rent here.”

You grin—a small, genuine smile. One that shouldn’t affect him as much as it does.

And just like that, for a second, it’s like no time has passed at all.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair, and Jeonghan catches the way your eyes soften just a bit. “I miss that,” you say, voice distant, almost melancholic. “I really miss that.”

The words are quiet. Honest.

They land between you with the kind of weight Jeonghan doesn’t know what to do with.

His heart skips, hope flaring in his chest before it’s immediately smothered by the cold, logical certainty that he’s taught himself to live with.

You miss that.

The late nights. The way things used to be. The version of you that existed before everything fell apart.

You don’t mean him.

And still—still, Jeonghan is stupid enough to want to believe it, even for a second.

You exhale, shaking your head slightly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.” You hesitate, fingers absentmindedly tapping against the table again. “I just… I don’t know.”

You pause, and when you speak again, your voice is quieter, more uncertain.

“The merger, everything… it’s been a lot to handle. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. If I’m really where I’m supposed to be.”

Jeonghan freezes, his thoughts swirling. Your voice is quiet, almost vulnerable in a way that he hasn’t heard in a long time. He hasn't heard this from you in a long time—not this version of you, the one with the mask cracked, revealing something deeper, something real.

Before he can think too much about it, the words leave his mouth.

“I think you’re doing just fine.”

Your gaze flicks up to meet his, startled.

His voice is steady, but his heart isn’t. He leans forward slightly—like he wants to get closer, but knows better.

“You’re good at what you do,” he says, softer now.

You shake your head, a humourless laugh escaping your lips. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just faking it. I thought I had it all figured out, but...” You hesitate, glancing down at your hands, clasped tightly in front of you. “But I don’t. Not anymore.”

And God.

The way your voice cracks. The way your words linger. The way you sound so tired, so uncertain, so—

So much like him.

Something twists in Jeonghan’s chest, sharp and unforgiving.

He wants to fix it. He wants to reach across the table, to close the distance between you, to say something—anything—to make it better.

But he knows he can’t.

He knows he shouldn’t.

So instead, he just says—quieter than before—

“I think… I think you’ve always known exactly what you’re doing. Even when you doubt yourself.”

Your gaze softens, and for the first time in a long while, you smile—a small, bittersweet thing.

A smile that isn’t just for him—it’s for everything that came before.

For the memories.

For the version of you that once existed together.

For something that will never fully fade.

The realization creeps in slowly, settling into his bones like a weight he can’t shake.

Jeonghan is still in love with you.

Deeply, hopelessly, impossibly in love with you.

And maybe—maybe—he never stopped.

Maybe all this time, he’s been pretending. Trying to convince himself that the past is over. That whatever was between you is gone.

But now?

Now he knows the truth.

The past isn’t gone. Not for him.

And you?

You’ve moved on. You’ve found your place. Built a life without him in it.

You’ve figured it out. And maybe—maybe—that’s something Jeonghan can’t do.

Not without you.

He exhales shakily, the weight of the truth pressing on his chest.

He doesn’t say anything.

He can’t.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

He looks at you one last time. His gaze lingers, and he knows.

Deep down, he knows.

You’re not his anymore.

On paper, the company retreat probably sounded like a good idea—team bonding, trust-building exercises, maybe even a temporary escape from the soul-crushing chaos of the merger.

In practice?

Jeonghan is one minor inconvenience away from throwing himself into the nearest ravine.

First, Joshua confiscated the small tumbler of gin he’d carefully smuggled in ("It’s literally a wellness retreat, Jeonghan." / "And alcohol would greatly improve my well-being, Joshua.").

Then, he tripped over a cursed log in the middle of the path, landing straight into a muddy ditch and missing out on all the good barbecue meat while he scrambled for a change of clothes.

And now he’s been paired with you for a “group hiking activity”, which is apparently supposed to teach teamwork.

The others have already split into their little groups, laughing, chatting, pretending like they’re not all secretly praying for a sudden earthquake to whisk them away from this corporate nightmare.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan is silently suffering, trailing behind you, doing his absolute best to not notice how good you look in your hiking gear.

He isn't sure it can get much worse, until the storm hits.

At first, it’s just a slight drizzle—barely worth acknowledging, but still enough to dampen his already miserable spirits.

Then, as the group ventures deeper into the woods, the rain turns into a full-on downpour—the kind that drowns out everything else, hammering against the trail, soaking through his clothes in seconds.

"Oh, shit, let’s find shelter!" you call ahead.

Before Jeonghan can even process what’s happening, you grab his arm—your fingers wrapping around his wrist, firm and unthinking—and pull him toward the only visible structure in sight: a small, semi-constructed shed at the edge of the clearing.

The storm is coming down so hard now that it’s impossible to hear anything over the roar of the rain.

By the time you both stumble inside, dripping and breathless, Jeonghan already knows—

This?

This is about to be a problem.

The shed is even smaller than it looked from the outside.

It’s barely holding itself together—nothing but a few sharp-looking tools hanging on the walls, broken pots stacked in precarious piles, and a couple of empty barrels.

Oh.

And you.

Standing so close that Jeonghan can feel the heat radiating off your body, the storm trapping you way too close for way too long.

He doesn’t mean to stare, but—

Your clothes are soaked, clinging to your skin. Your breathing is steady but deep, the rhythm oddly calming, almost hypnotic.

Jeonghan swallows.

This is fine.

It’s totally fine.

Just a normal work retreat. Normal rain. Normal amount of completely ignoring the fact that every single nerve in his body is currently hyper-aware of how close you are.

Your chest brushes against his, the warmth of your body a gentle pressure as you close the space between you. His breath hitches at the proximity, your exhale a soft whisper against his skin. Your arm extends, reaching for something Jeonghan doesn’t even register anymore; all he can focus on is the heat radiating from you, the way you glance at him with that look, that steady, determined gaze that’s always made his heart flutter.

"You should know," you murmur, your voice barely more than a breath, the words hanging between you with an intensity that makes his pulse quicken. Your eyes flicker to his lips for a moment, before meeting his gaze once more, unwavering and focused. "I'm very determined when it comes to getting what's mine."

His heart stutters, caught somewhere in his chest as your words settle into the space between you. His breath is stolen by the closeness, the silent weight of the moment. His hand instinctively lowers, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch. The briefest of touches. Barely a graze.

You notice the shift, the slight tremor in his fingers, and your breath catches too, your eyes darkening with something he can’t quite name. And in the next heartbeat, you pull your book free from his grasp with a soft, triumphant laugh, a sound that echoes in his chest as you take a step back, dancing with victory. Jeonghan stands frozen for a moment, watching you with a quiet, stunned smile playing on his lips. The adventure, the chase—none of it compares to this. Watching you, in this small, victorious moment, he’s certain he’s never seen anything quite as beautiful.

Jeonghan shifts uncomfortably, scanning the shed like maybe, if he glares at it long enough, it will magically expand and offer him a dignified escape.

It does not.

The only space available is the narrowest possible gap between a stack of old crates and a wall of wood, and it is still far too close for comfort.

Fantastic.

“Great,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze like it might set off another chain reaction of unwanted nostalgia. “What now?”

You let out a small laugh, clearly too entertained by his suffering. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Jeonghan dares a glance at you—just a quick one—but you’re already busy adjusting the collar of your soaked jacket, trying to make yourself a little less miserable.

He exhales slowly, forcibly fixing his focus on the floor.

It’s not that he can’t handle being near you.

He can.

Or at least, that’s what he’s been telling himself for weeks.

But what really messes with him is how his heart picks up speed every time you’re close. How his chest tightens, like it’s about to implode under the weight of everything unsaid.

And then he says it. Because he's an idiot.

“Why is it always you?”

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. A little too sharp. A little too bitter.

But he doesn’t take them back.

Because, seriously—every single time something goes wrong, somehow, you are there. As if the universe gets some kind of sick joy out of watching him suffer.

You look at him then, the same sharp expression flickering in your eyes. “You think I want to be stuck in here with you?” you shoot back. “I didn’t exactly sign up for this either, you know.”

And, well. Fair point.

Still—

uJeonghan can’t help but laugh, low and humorless. “You’re right. I did miss this,” he drawls, sarcasm thick enough to choke on. “The chemistry. The—” he waves a hand between you, his smirk lazy, “—tension. It’s great.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed. "Is this really how we're going to do this? Right now? You just can't help yourself, can you?"

He stiffens, a retort biting at his tongue, but he holds it back. The old banter—the biting sarcasm—is supposed to be a defense mechanism. A way to keep the walls up. But there’s no denying it now. The walls are crumbling, and so is he.

You speak again, your voice softer this time. “Jeonghan…” The way you say his name, it feels different than before, less confrontational, more—careful.

He doesn’t want to acknowledge how much that does to him. 

“Maybe we should talk about it,” you continue, your voice steady but gentler now. “Before it blows up in the middle of a meeting.”

Jeonghan’s breath catches.

It’s too much, too fast. The walls he’s been desperately keeping up are crumbling, and he knows that once they’re gone—really gone—there’s no putting them back up.

His pulse jumps, the back of his neck heating, a cold sweat creeping in.

A conversation like this—the one he’s been avoiding forever—feels like something he should run from.

And now that it’s here, he doesn’t know how to approach it.

He opens his mouth.

Then closes it.

Because he’s not sure if he’s afraid of the past being dragged back into the light—

Or if he’s terrified of what it will mean to finally face the truth.

The truth about what happened between you, about how it ended, how he ended it.

“You think it’s really a good idea to talk about this now?” he manages to say, his voice quieter than usual. He’s trying to keep his cool, but the tremor in his voice betrays him.

His hands tighten at his sides—a futile attempt to hold himself together.

You stand still, your gaze never wavering from his. "Is there ever a good time, Jeonghan?"you ask, voice firm but achingly soft. "It’s been months. We’ve been walking around like we’re strangers, and yet here we are, stuck in this damn shed, acting like the last time we spoke didn’t mean anything.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. He’s been pretending, hasn’t he? Pretending the silence between you didn’t matter, that the weight of your absence wasn’t suffocating him. That the ache in his chest wasn’t still yours.

But it was.

It is.

And as much as he hates it, he knows that now. He knows it because of the way his heart clenches at the sound of your voice, the way his breath catches when your eyes meet his.

There’s no pretending anymore.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Jeonghan admits, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Everything was changing so fast, and I just… I shut down. I pushed you away when you needed me most.”

You don’t respond right away.

For a long moment, it feels like time stops, like the storm outside has swallowed up everything but this—this moment, this space, this thing between you that refuses to die.

Then—finally, softly—

“You didn’t push me away, Jeonghan.”

The way you say it—it’s not angry. Not sharp. Just tired.

“You just… withdrew,” you continue, your voice carrying the weight of something unspoken. “You closed off in a way I couldn’t reach you anymore. I tried—God, I tried so hard. But you were so distant, so quiet.”

Your eyes meet his again, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let your guard down.

“I never understood why,” you murmur. “Why you couldn’t just talk to me. Why you couldn’t let me in.”

Jeonghan swallows hard.

Because how does he explain it?

He wants to say something, to explain, but the words feel inadequate, like a poor substitute for everything that’s been left unsaid. How could he explain that he was terrified? Terrified of how much you meant to him, terrified of what it would mean to feel everything he’d been holding back.

And in the end, he’d chosen the only defense mechanism he knew: silence.

“I’m sorry.”

The words barely escape his lips, a whisper, a confession, a wound reopening.

He takes a step closer before he can second-guess himself, his voice trembling.

“I was scared,” he admits, the truth cracking through his composure. “I didn’t know how to open up. I thought if I let myself feel too much… I’d lose everything.”

His voice is hoarse, stripped bare in a way he never allows. The floodgates have opened now, and the words won’t stop coming.

"You were always the one, you know," he continues, voice uneven. "I spent so long convincing myself that losing you was better than hurting you. But I never asked what you wanted."

He exhales, a bitter laugh catching in his throat. “I never stopped to think that maybe not fighting for us was the thing that hurt you the most.”

The words settle between you like an exhale—heavy and fragile all at once.

Jeonghan can barely believe he’s saying it.

But he’s made the mistake of staying silent once before.

He won’t make it again.

His heart is pounding so loudly now, drowning out the storm outside, the rush of blood in his ears making it impossible to think about anything except this.

His hand twitches at his side, caught between reaching for you and knowing he has no right to.

But then—

Your fingers brush against his.

It’s barely anything. Just the smallest, hesitant press of warmth against his skin. But it wrecks him.

His breath shallows, chest tightening, lips parting slightly as his body leans in, as if drawn by some unseen force. He's not thinking about anything else. Just you. Just this. 

And then, you move closer, just an inch, and his pulse spikes, his lips parting slightly, the ache to close the distance between you almost too much to bear.

"Tell me to move," he murmurs, voice so quiet it barely exists between you. "Tell me to stop, and I swear I’ll never do this again."

A pause.

A heartbeat.

A lifetime.

"But if you don’t…" His voice drops lower, barely a whisper. "I don’t think I can pretend anymore."

Your eyes flicker from his to his lips.

And Jeonghan knows this moment. He’s felt this moment before—the slow, aching pull, the gravity between you, the kind of anticipation that makes his head spin.

Maybe this time.

Maybe this time, you’ll—

Your breath catches.

Something shifts behind your eyes.

Hesitation. Uncertainty. Regret.

And then—you take half a step back. Just enough to break the spell. Just enough to make Jeonghan’s chest hollow out.

Your fingers slip from his, as if the moment had never happened.

"I can’t," you murmur, voice barely steady. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, grounding yourself. “Jeonghan… I’m not ready to go back there. Not yet.”

The words are quiet, but they land like a blow.

Not cruel. Not harsh.

But final.

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, not at first.

He lets the silence fill the space instead.

Because he gets it.  The weight of the past is too much. Too much to dive back into. Too soon.

You search his face for something—answers, reassurance, something neither of you know how to give.

He forces himself to swallow past the tightness in his throat.

"I understand." His voice is softer now, tinged with something dangerously close to heartbreak.

“I didn’t expect you to be.” He exhales slowly, carefully. “I just… I needed you to know. I never stopped thinking about you.”

The storm rages on outside, but inside this moment, it’s quieter than it has been in months.

And as Jeonghan watches you turn away, watches your fingers curl slightly, like you’re fighting the urge to reach for him—

His own fingers curl at his sides.

The ghost of your touch still lingering.

Jeonghan can tell you're wasted the second he hears the knock at his door.

It's an uneven, erratic tap—like you’re struggling to find the rhythm of it, like the way you’re standing is fighting against whatever balance you thought you had. It’s nothing like the usual grace you carry, the poised, deliberate way you do everything.

His first instinct? Don’t answer.

Maybe if he ignores it, you’ll turn on your heel and trudge back to your room, drunk enough to collapse into bed and forget whatever reckless idea brought you here in the first place.

Maybe that would be the best option—save both of you from whatever petty revenge you’ve decided he deserves.

His fingers hover over the door handle.

He can hear you on the other side—your breath, shallow and unsteady, like you’re bracing yourself.

He knows he should stay inside. Let you figure it out on your own.

But of course, he doesn’t do that.

He’s never been good at resisting you.

With a soft sigh, he opens the door, half-expecting a drunken rant about how terrible he is, how he's probably ruined your life, again. You've always had a sharp tongue when you were upset, and he's sure that alcohol is only going to fuel it more.

But when the door swings open, the sight that greets him is nothing like he expected.

You’re swaying slightly, cheeks flushed from alcohol, eyes hazy but burning with something Jeonghan can’t quite place.

And then, there’s the smile—mischievous, reckless.

The kind of smile that makes his pulse spike for all the wrong reasons.

"You know," you slur, voice low and playful, "I've been thinking about you all evening."

Jeonghan freezes, the words hanging between you like a strange, insistent pull. He was expecting anger. Accusations. Anything but this.

He clears his throat, tries to steady himself. "Uh—you're really drunk right now." His voice is careful, measured. "Maybe you should go back to your room."

You don’t listen.

Instead, you take a slow step forward, swaying just enough for Jeonghan to notice how unsteady you are, how the world is just a little too much for you to handle right now.

Your fingers brush the front of his shirt, then slide up to his collar, curling lightly around the fabric.

"Don’t you miss me?" Your voice softens, the playful edge gone, replaced by something rawer. "Don’t you ever think about what we could've had? I know I do."

Jeonghan’s stomach lurches, and a sudden wave of panic sweeps through him.

His first instinct is to back away. Create space. Put distance between you and this mess of a moment.

But he looks at you again, really looks at you, and what he sees wrecks him. Because behind the alcohol, behind the reckless smirk, behind the dangerously soft voice—

There’s desperation.

The same raw, aching need he’s spent months forcing himself to suppress.

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head, his voice more strained than he intends. “You’re drunk. This isn’t—this isn’t the right time for this.”

You laugh, but it’s not light. It’s not amused.

You laugh, but it’s not a light laugh. It’s heavy with something else, something he can’t quite decipher. “So you’re saying I don’t know what I want? Or maybe you don’t know what you want?”

The words sting more than they should. It’s like you’ve taken all the walls he’s spent so long building around himself and torn them down in one shot. The thought of you, standing here and waiting for him, the weight of your gaze—he can't ignore it. But it's not right to give in, either. Not like this.

He takes a step back, his hands instinctively raising to create space between the two of you. “You don’t mean this. You’re not thinking straight right now.”

You reach for him again, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him a little closer than he’s comfortable with.

He can feel your breath on his skin, warm and uneven, and the tension in the air is suffocating. Every instinct in him is telling him to kiss you, to lean into the dangerous edge between the two of you and let it all unravel.

Your voice is heavy, thick with something undeniable, something Jeonghan wants so badly it hurts.

“I’ve missed you,” you murmur, fingers tightening against his chest. “I need you.”

Jeonghan’s heart is pounding in his chest, but he knows—

If he gives in now, this moment won’t be what he wants it to be.

It won’t be real.

Not in the way it should be.

“No."

The word comes out raw, heavier than he expected.

Your face falls, disappointment flashing across your features before the alcohol muddles your expression again.

But Jeonghan holds his ground, even as his heart aches in his chest. You deserved more than this, more than a careless, drunken mistake.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he continues, his voice quieter now. “I care about you too much for that.”

For a long moment, you don’t say anything. Just stand there, swaying a little, staring at him. Jeonghan watches you, heart pounding in his chest, waiting for something to give. But it doesn’t.

And then, in a quiet voice, you say, "You don’t care about me."

The words are so fragile, barely holding together as they slip past your lips.

Jeonghan flinches.

Because it’s not true. It’s never been true.

"Of course, I care-"

You don't let him finish, the door closing with a slam behind you. The sharp click of the lock echoes through the room, final and unforgiving.

Jeonghan stands there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, his chest too tight to breathe properly.

Then—slowly—he leans against it, closing his eyes, exhaling sharply.

You won’t remember much of this tomorrow.

You won’t remember the way you looked at him, the way your voice trembled when you said you missed him. You won’t remember the way his heart nearly gave out when you touched him.

And Jeonghan—

Jeonghan prays that when the fog of alcohol lifts, you won’t resent him for this.

Jeonghan had spent the weekend stewing in his own thoughts.

The retreat, the storm, the alcohol, the way your fingers curled into his shirt like you needed him—and most of all, the quiet rejection that followed.

It’s all settled into him in ways he doesn’t want to admit.

But one thing is clear through the mess of it all:

You deserved better.

Better than a rain-soaked half-confession. Better than an almost-kiss in the dim light of a cramped shed. Better than standing outside his door, drunk and vulnerable, only to be turned away.

You deserved something real.

So Jeonghan spends the better part of Sunday evening preparing himself.

He rehearses what he’ll say, how he’ll say it, what kind of apology might be enough to make things right. He tells himself that this time, he’s going to be open, that he’s going to stop hiding behind his usual emotional armour.

That he’s not the same man you left behind.

Jeonghan isn't exactly a grand gesture kind of guy, but he figures that flowers might be a good place to start.

So he picks up a small, simple bouquet—a mix of pale pink roses and white lilies. It feels right. Not over-the-top, not desperate. Just… gentle. Sincere.

Something to tell you that he’s serious about this. About you.

About fixing what he broke.

Monday morning. A bouquet. A plan.

Jeonghan walks into the office, bouquet in hand, the familiar weight of anticipation pressing down on his chest.

He hasn’t seen you yet, but he knows you’re here—probably sorting out someone else’s mess, busy fixing problems that aren’t yours to fix.

And besides, the lingering tension between you still hasn’t been resolved. There’s still too much left unsaid.

He weaves through the office, eyes scanning each cubicle, looking for a glimpse of you. Your desk. Your chair. The little personal touches you leave behind.

But when he walks past your workspace, he barely slows down. Because, of course, you wouldn’t be there yet. You’re probably in a meeting or grabbing coffee—

Right?

Jeonghan stops by the coffee machine, hovering near a group of junior associates, waiting for the right moment.

He’s still running through his speech in his head when one of them—clipboard in hand—pauses beside him, eyes flicking to the bouquet with mild curiosity.

"Those are nice," she comments. "Are you bringing them to Y/n?"

Jeonghan blinks.

He’s pretty sure no one saw you leaving his room that night, but maybe word spreads faster than he thought.

"Uh, yeah, I was just—" His voice falters, uncertainty creeping in. "Wait, what do you mean? Are they—?"

The associate raises an eyebrow. “Oh. Didn’t you hear?”

And then, with the casualness of someone delivering a weather report—

"Y/n put in their resignation over the weekend. They’re leaving the company."

The words hit Jeonghan like a punch to the stomach. He feels the air leave his lungs, his body momentarily forgetting how to function. What?

His mind races. No. It can’t be true. You—you wouldn’t just leave. Not without saying something, without—

He forces himself to reply. "When? Why?"

The associate looks a little sheepish, as though she's not sure if she should be saying anything. "I don't know the details. Something about another job, though. It's pretty sudden - just packed up this morning, said goodbye, and - yeah."

This morning.

Jeonghan’s thoughts go numb.

His eyes dart back to the desk he had walked past minutes ago—

The empty desk.

The chair is still there, but everything else is gone. No personal belongings. No little notebooks. No coffee cup. No lingering signs that you’d ever been there at all. Just an empty space. Cold. Unfamiliar.

The associate says something else, but Jeonghan doesn’t hear her.

He barely registers her walking away.

Without thinking, Jeonghan walks swiftly towards your office, although it feels like his legs are moving on their own, his mind detached from his body. He knows he shouldn't chase after you. He has no right. But this - this is different. You're leaving.

When he reaches your office, he knocks once.

Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he pushes the door open.

And what he finds is—

Nothing.

The space is just as empty as your desk had been.

The table is stripped bare. The computer monitor is gone. The air still carries the faintest trace of your perfume, but even that is fading.

Jeonghan just stands there, clutching the flowers in his hand like they're the only thing keeping him tethered to this reality.

And then, the quiet voice he’s been trying so hard to ignore finally makes itself heard: You're too late, again.

Jeonghan slumps into his chair, staring blankly at the computer screen like it might somehow offer him answers.

It doesn’t.

It just sits there—cold, unhelpful—mirroring the hollow ache in his chest.

The bouquet on the corner of his desk is dying a slow, miserable death. The once-vibrant petals are already wilting, drooping under the weight of their own existence, looking just as pathetic as he feels.

He doesn’t realize how much time has passed—how long he’s been sitting there, stuck in the endless spiral of what-ifs—until a voice yanks him back to reality with all the grace of a toddler on a sugar high.

"Jeonghan."

He blinks up, sluggish, seeing Joshua standing over him like some sort of judgmental yet well-meaning ghost, arms crossed and face set in that deeply irritating, all-knowing expression that screams I know exactly what’s going on, and I’m about to make it worse.

Joshua’s eyes flick to the flowers.

Then back to Jeonghan.

Then, like he physically cannot help himself, he smirks.

“Are those for Y/n?”

The words are light, teasing—too casual. But the look in Joshua’s eyes is something else entirely—a mix of sympathy and secondhand embarrassment, the kind that makes Jeonghan want to sink into the floor and never be perceived again.

He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. "Uh, yeah…"

His fingers skim over the petals, careful—like touching them too much might make them fall apart completely. "I was going to give them today. I mean, I did. I wanted to, but…"

His voice trails off, disappearing into the abyss of 'things that aren't going to happen'.

Joshua doesn’t say anything at first.

Instead, he just leans against the desk, watching Jeonghan with the kind of quiet scrutiny that makes his skin itch.

"I told you, man,” Joshua finally sighs, shaking his head. “You have to start reading your emails.”

Jeonghan’s mouth opens—ready to argue, ready to say something, anything—

But nothing comes out.

He’s just so tired.

And so unbelievably stupid.

"I was going to fix it," Jeonghan mutters. The words taste bitter, hollow in his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say them aloud, but there they are. Out in the open. "I was going to apologise. I was going to... to make it right."

Joshua just watches Jeonghan—arms crossed, gaze unreadable—like he’s waiting to see if there’s anything left to say.

When he does speak, his voice is softer. Gentler. Like he’s stepping carefully around fragile ground.

“You know, Jeonghan… Sometimes you can’t wait around for the right moment. Sometimes, you have to make that moment yourself. No one’s gonna do it for you.” He pauses. “And it’s okay to feel bad about it. Hell, I’d be a mess too if I were you.”

Jeonghan lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Congrats, Shua. You are me. This is your life now."

Joshua hums thoughtfully. “That’s unfortunate. I’d like a refund.”

Jeonghan huffs out something that almost sounds like amusement—but it dies quickly, sinking beneath the weight pressing against his ribs.

His shoulders sag. His head tilts forward, gaze locked onto the wilting flowers.

"I thought I had time," he murmurs.

Joshua stays quiet. Listening.

"I thought they’d still be there," Jeonghan continues, voice barely above a whisper. "Waiting for me to get my act together."

Silence.

Thick and heavy.

And then—finally—

“I don’t even know if they’ll want to talk to me again.”

Joshua doesn’t hesitate this time.

He just smiles—small, knowing.

“Well,” he says simply, “you won’t know unless you try.”

Jeonghan doesn't get drunk on purpose. He just ... allows the alcohol to win.

Besides, it's the first step in his extremely well-thought-out, definitely-not-drunken plan to win you back. (alternatively titled: The worst idea he's ever had, and that's saying something).

Step One: Drown Your Sorrows Like a Man

One drink? Fine. Two drinks? Even better. Five drinks? You know what? Life is short, and so is his ability to keep a functional relationship. Might as well commit.

By the time he's properly marinated in alcohol and self-pity, Joshua has started looking at him with that face—half pity, half “I should have left you at the bar and gone home.” But it’s fine. Everything’s fine.

“You know what,” Jeonghan slurs, pointing an accusatory finger at his best friend. “I think I gotta— I gotta do something. Something big.”

Joshua sighs. “No, you don’t.”

“I do, actually,” Jeonghan says, deadly serious. “I need Y/n to know I’m a changed man, Joshua.”

Joshua takes a sip of his beer, unbothered. “You are quite literally drunk in a bar, thinking of doing something stupid. So, no, you’re actually the same man.”

Jeonghan glares. “Wow. Negative energy. Get out.”

“This is my apartment.”

“Okay but, like. Metaphorically.”

Joshua shakes his head. “What’s the plan, then? You gonna text her?”

Jeonghan gasps, scandalised. “No. That’s pathetic.”

Joshua sighs in relief.

“No, I’m gonna send a voice message.”

Joshua physically lunges for the phone.

Step Two: Send a Message That Will Definitely Solve Everything

Jeonghan fumbles with his phone, blinking until his vision stabilises enough to find your contact. He hits the audio message button and clears his throat, ready to deliver the most heartfelt, sincere message of his life.

"Heyyyy," he starts. Good start. "I was just thinking. About us. About how we had, like, something special, y'know? And then I was like. Wow. I'm dumb. Like, really dumb. Like, 'couldn't pass a third-grade math test' dumb. But you knew that."

Joshua groans from the kitchen.

"But you liked me anyway. Which is crazy. And so nice of you, actually. You're so nice. The nicest." He hiccups. "And I was thinking. You always used to say that I never fight for anything - which, rude, because I am literally fighting for my life every morning when I wake up. But like, emotionally, you were right. So I'm fighting now. Right now. At this moment."

Pause. Hiccup. Thoughtful silence.

"... Okay, technically, I'm sitting on Joshua's couch. But I mean it. I am spiritually standing up for this relationship."

There's a loud thunk as Jeonghan's knees hit the coffee table from the sheer force he throws his body up with.

Joshua looks up from his phone. "DId you just break my table?"

"Shhhh," Jeonghan waves him off. "Important matters are happening." He brings the phone back to his mouth.

"Anway. Listen. I was bad at the whole relationship thing. But I'm a changed man now. I mean, not right now because I'm drunk, but like, in general, I will be. Probably. Statistically. So like. Call me. Or text. Or send, like, a pigeon, I don't care. But let's talk."

"Wow. That was awful. Are you gonna send it?"

Jeonghan grins. "Oh, it's already gone."

Joshua looks like he wants to throw himself off the balcony. 

Step Three: Online Shopping

Jeonghan, still drunk and now high on the confidence of his definitely good voice message, decides he needs a gift. Something thoughtful. Something sentimental. Something way better than those shitty flowers he's glad you never had to lay eyes on.

And then it hits him. The perfect idea.

"Joshua," he says, tone dead serious. "I need a taxidermy frog."

Joshua looks at him, horrified. "You what?"

"A frog," Jeonghan's fingers are already moving at lightning speed, typing the words into a very shady-looking website. "Y/n loved that stupid frog we saw in that antique shop. Remember? Y/n said it had 'big personality'. They respected that frog."

Joshua looks like he’s physically in pain. “Jeonghan, no—”

“Too late. It’s ordered.”

Joshua stares in disbelief. "You seriously just spent—" He looks at the screen, jaw dropping. "FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS?! ON A DEAD FROG?!"

Jeonghan nods, looking very proud of himself. "Only the best for my love."

"You don't even know if she wants that!"

Jeonghan scoffs. "Joshua. It's a frog. Everyone wants a frog."

Joshua puts his head in his hands. "This is literally why you're single."

Step Four: Pass Out and Let Tomorrow-You Suffer the Consequences

The last thing Jeonghan remembers is a very smug sense of accomplishment.

He has done it. He has made his move. He has sent a heartfelt message. He has made a grand gesture. He is fighting.

He is unstoppable.

…He is also face-down on Joshua’s couch, snoring so loudly the neighbours might call animal control.

The phone, still clutched in his hand, lights up with an incoming notification.

A text.

From you.

Three words.

"Are you serious?"

Jeonghan wakes up feeling like death.

His head is pounding, his mouth drier than the Sahara, and his soul feels like it has been forcibly removed from his body and drop-kicked into the sun. He groans, rolling over onto his side, only to come face-to-face with Joshua, who is standing over him with the look of a man who has seen things.

“…Morning,” Jeonghan croaks, voice wrecked from what he can only assume was a night of tragic decision-making.

Joshua crosses his arms. “Do you remember what you did last night?”

Jeonghan thinks. He remembers alcohol. He remembers emotion. He remembers… Oh God.

His eyes fly open. “I bought a—”

“A $400 taxidermy frog? Yes. Yes, you did.” Joshua gestures to the corner of the room, where, sure enough, a very dead, very wide-eyed frog sits in an equally dead, equally wide-eyed glass case.

Jeonghan stares at it in horror, clutching his blanket like it might protect him from reality. “Oh my God.”

Joshua sighs and pulls out Jeonghan’s phone. “And you sent this,” he says, pressing play on The Message.

Jeonghan has never known true fear until now.

“Heyyyyy…” comes his own very drunk voice, echoing through the apartment like a ghost of his worst mistakes. “Soooooo. I was just thinking. About us. About how we had, like, something special, y'know? And then I was like. Wow. I'm dumb. Like, really dumb. Like—”

Jeonghan slaps the phone out of Joshua’s hand so fast, it skids across the floor. “OKAY. Got it. Yep. Thank you.”

Joshua levels him with a stare. “Oh, you’re welcome. Also, she replied.”

Jeonghan freezes. “She what?”

Joshua pulls up the message, holding it out for him to read.

Are you serious?

He stares. That’s it? No "never speak to me again"? No "please lose my number and also possibly yourself"?

Joshua claps his hands together. “And now, you’re gonna go over."

“What? No, I—” Jeonghan gestures wildly at himself. “I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” Joshua interrupts. “You were literally crying over this last night—”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“You sobbed into my hoodie and called me ‘a real one,’ so actually, yes, you were.”

Jeonghan glares. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, so much,” Joshua agrees. Then he gestures to the taxidermy frog still sitting ominously on the table. “Also, you’re bringing that.”

Jeonghan sits up so fast his brain almost leaves his skull. “What?! No! I’m not—this was a drunken mistake!”

Joshua gives him a look. “Yeah? So was letting her walk away the first time. And the second time. And whatever number time we’re on now.”

Jeonghan glares. “I hate you.”

Joshua pats his shoulder. “I know. Now take the frog and go.”

Jeonghan stands in front of your door, frog in hand, deeply regretting everything that has led him to this moment.

There are a lot of ways to win back an ex. A heartfelt apology. A romantic gesture. Literally any option that does not involve showing up at her doorstep, hungover, holding a dead frog in a display case like some kind of unhinged antique salesman.

But here he is.

He exhales, steadying himself. He has to do this. He has to explain everything—how he didn’t know you were working for the merging company, how the pastel sweater was not some dramatic power move, how he’s an idiot (but, like, a reformed idiot now).

Most importantly, he has to fix whatever mess he made last night.

With a deep breath, he knocks.

The door swings open a few seconds later, and there you are—standing there in sweats and an oversized hoodie, looking at him like you knew this day was coming but are still deeply unprepared for it.

Your gaze flickers to the frog. Then back to him. Then back to the frog.

“…No,” you say immediately, trying to shut the door.

Jeonghan wedges his foot in before you can. “Wait, wait, wait,” he pleads, balancing the frog case in his other hand. “Just hear me out.”

You cross your arms, unimpressed. “Are you seriously standing outside my apartment at—” You check the time. “Nine-thirty in the morning holding a stuffed frog?”

Jeonghan shifts awkwardly. “Technically, it’s taxidermy.”

Your expression remains unchanged. “You’re insane.”

“Passionate,” he corrects, trying to smile. “Look, I just… I wanted to talk. Properly. No drunk messages. No misunderstandings. Just—can we?” He gestures vaguely, still holding the frog case like it’s part of the conversation.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Fine. But the frog stays outside.”

Jeonghan pouts. “It has big personality.”

You slam the door in his face.

Five seconds later, you open it again. “Get in.”

Walking into your apartment is surreal.

Mostly because it looks different. Like you took every single thing that might’ve even slightly reminded you of him and threw it into a bonfire. Jeonghan half-expects to see a sage stick burning in the corner, cleansing the air of his scent.

You sit across from him at the kitchen table, arms still crossed, watching him like he's about to unleash another round of chaos. Which is fair.

Jeonghan clears his throat, hands clasped together, like he's in a business meeting and not a shambles of  a man trying to win back the love of his life.

Before he can even begin, you cut in.

“I heard you brought me flowers.”

Joshua, that absolute rat—

"Julie from legal told me."

Ah. That makes more sense.

“Well,” he starts, thrown completely off track. “I figured you might be feeling bad. I just… didn’t think you’d quit before I could even apologise.”

"Yeah, well, I guess it all got a little too much for me."

Jeonghan squints. “So you did quit because of me?”

You level him with a deadpan expression. “Jeonghan. I got a bit tipsy and practically begged you to take my clothes off.”

He blinks. “A bit tipsy seems like an understatement—”

"That doesn't mean much coming from you."

Okay. Fair.

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples. “Come on, Jeonghan. You felt it too. How could I stay there when every moment, I was bracing myself in case I heard your voice? If every time someone passed, I’d look around to check if it was you?” You shake your head. “That’s not a productive way to work, and it’s definitely not healthy. I mean, I was thrown off the second I saw you, and I don’t think I ever really recovered from that.”

Jeonghan licks his lips, hesitating. “About the sweater—”

Your eyebrows shoot up.

"I didn't know you were leading the merger when I wore it," he says quickly, desperate to clear at least one crime off his record. "I swear to God, I didn't."

You narrow your eyes. "So you just ... casually decided to wear a pastel pink sweater to the most important corporate meeting of your career?"

Jeonghan hesitates. “Uh. Yes?”

You stare at him.

He sits up straighter, suddenly feeling defensive. “I had a moment that morning, okay? I had a dream about the day we went to get them, and I thought, Hey, maybe if I wear this, then I'll feel one sliver of the same joy I did that day.” He waves his hands. “I didn’t realize that it would lead to—” another vague, exasperated gesture “—this. Besides, you know I don’t check my emails, Y/n. I didn’t even know you were going to be there.”

You blink. "You wore it because of a dream?"

" ... Technically, yes."

A pause. Then, to his absolute horror, you start laughing.

Not a mocking laugh. Not a wow-you’re-an-idiot laugh. Just… pure, unfiltered amusement, like you cannot believe this is what started all of this.

Jeonghan watches as you shake your head, covering your mouth with your hand.

"Shit," you gasp between chuckles. "I spent an entire week planning what I was going to wear, what I'd say to you when I saw you, how I'd prove to you that I'd moved on and was better without you before that meeting. And you saw right through it, without even realising."

Jeonghan is stunned and, frankly, a little offended.

“You think this is funny?” he grumbles, watching as you wipe at your eyes, still giggling.

“Oh, I know it’s funny,” you say, shaking your head. “All that effort on my part and you just—obliterated it. By accident. With a sweater.”

Jeonghan huffs, crossing his arms. “Well, excuse me for having a sentimental moment.”

“Oh, so now you’re sentimental?”

He hesitates. “...I mean. A little.”

Your laughter fades then, softening into something quieter, something a little too knowing. “I guess that’s what last night was, too?”

Jeonghan stiffens immediately.

The message. 

Oh. Right.

The actual reason he's here.

His fingers drum anxiously against the table. “I… don’t suppose you ignored that?”

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I listened. Multiple times, actually. Almost sent it to HR for psychological damage.”

Jeonghan groans, burying his face in his hands. “I knew it was bad.”

You tilt your head, considering. “Honestly, it started fine. You sounded, like, half composed. Then you hit the ‘I am literally fighting for my life every morning’ part and, well…” You gesture vaguely. “It kind of fell apart.”

He peeks at you through his fingers. “Just a little?”

“Oh, no. It was a complete disaster.”

Fantastic. Love that for him.

Sighing, Jeonghan lets his hands drop, his fingers still fidgeting. “Look, I—” He hesitates, pressing his lips together before forcing himself to just say it. “I meant what I said.”

Your expression shifts, just slightly, just enough for him to notice.

His voice is quieter now, steadier. “I know I sounded ridiculous, but I wasn’t just talking out of my ass. I—” He swallows. “I really do regret how things ended. I should’ve fought for you. I should’ve at least tried. But I didn’t, and I lost you. And now…” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Now I don’t even know if I have the right to be sitting here.”

You don’t answer right away.

Instead, you watch him carefully, as if you’re still trying to figure out if this is real, if it’s safe to trust what he’s saying.

Then, finally—

“You know, you could’ve said all of this before I left.”

Jeonghan winces. “I know.”

“I mean, instead of waiting until you were drunk out of your mind and making Frogbert the most cursed apology gift of all time.”

His face burns. “We don’t have to talk about Frogbert.”

“Oh, we absolutely do.”

“Y/n—”

You smile, shaking your head, but there’s something softer in your eyes now. Something that makes Jeonghan feel like maybe—maybe—he hasn’t completely lost his chance.

You sigh, leaning forward slightly, resting your elbows on the table. “Look, Jeonghan. It wasn’t just you. I didn’t exactly handle things perfectly either.”

He blinks, startled. “You didn’t?”

You shoot him a look. “Wow. Try not to sound so surprised.”

“No, I just—” He rubs the back of his neck, struggling to process this information. “I kind of assumed you had everything figured out. That you were, y’know, thriving without me.”

You shrug. “I tried to be.”

The weight of that sits between you for a moment.

Jeonghan wets his lips, his hands still twitching slightly against his knees. “So… what now?”

You tilt your head, considering. “I don’t know.” There’s something guarded in the way you say it, like you’re waiting for him to give you a reason. A reason to walk away, or a reason to stay.

And Jeonghan—Jeonghan is so tired of giving you reasons to walk away.

So he leans forward just slightly, his voice lower, steadier than it’s been all week. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life proving that I love you than waste another second pretending I don’t.”

Your breath catches.

And for a moment, everything stills.

Jeonghan can see it—the flicker of emotion behind your eyes, the way your fingers tighten just slightly around the edge of the table. He’s spent so much time trying to read you, but this? This is the closest he’s felt to understanding you in a long, long time.

Your lips part, but no words come. He watches as you swallow, watches as you fight the instinct to look away.

“…That’s a really unfair thing to say,” you murmur finally, voice quiet.

Jeonghan exhales a soft laugh. “Yeah. It is.” He tilts his head slightly, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But it’s true.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowing, but there’s no real bite behind it. “God, you are so annoying.”

“Infuriating, actually,” he corrects. “But, y’know. At least I’m consistent.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now—just a little, just enough for him to notice. And Jeonghan thinks that maybe he’s finally done something right.

A beat of silence passes between you. Not tense, not uncomfortable—just quiet. Just… yours.

Then, softly: “Do you mean it?”

Jeonghan meets your gaze, unwavering. “Yeah,” he says simply. “I do.”

You exhale, rubbing a hand over your face. “You literally sent me a voice message saying you were spiritually standing up for this relationship.”

Jeonghan groans, slumping forward dramatically. “I knew you’d bring that up.”

“Oh, I’m never letting that go.”

Another pause.

Then, finally—

“…I don’t know how this is supposed to work,” you admit, quieter now. “I don’t know if it can.”

Jeonghan nods, understanding. “Me neither.” He swallows. “But I think—I think if I lost you again without at least trying this time, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”

You stare at him, searching.

Then, after a moment, you let out a slow breath, sitting back in your chair. “Okay,” you murmur. “Then try.”

And Jeonghan, for the first time in forever, feels like he can finally breathe again.

Planning a romantic date is, unfortunately, not Jeonghan’s strong suit.

Oh, he can be thoughtful when he wants to be. But romantic? That requires effort. That requires vulnerability. That requires not making everything a joke to avoid feeling things. And frankly, Jeonghan has built his entire personality around not doing any of that.

But here he is.

Planning a real date. A meaningful one. A Hey-I’m-Actually-a-Decent-Boyfriend-This-Time-I-Swear kind of date.

Which is why Joshua, who is watching this entire thing unfold from the couch, looks horrified.

“I need you to be honest with me,” Jeonghan says, standing in front of a fully crafted itinerary. “Is this too much?”

Joshua, staring at a literal printed schedule, does not even blink. “Yes.”

Jeonghan sighs dramatically. “I knew you’d say that.”

“You wrote out timed activities, Jeonghan.”

“It’s called being prepared.”

“It’s called being insane.”

Jeonghan waves him off. “Okay, but listen. I messed up. And this—” He gestures grandly to the schedule. “This is how I fix it.”

Joshua pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why do I have a feeling this ends with something deeply embarrassing?”

Jeonghan does not answer.

Which means Joshua is right.

Jeonghan picks you up at exactly 5:00 PM (because he planned this), and the first thing he notices is that you’re suspicious.

"Okay," you say, arms crossed, giving him that look. "What’s the catch?"

Jeonghan gasps. "Wow. Zero faith in me."

You raise an eyebrow.

“…Okay, fine. A little faith in me.”

You hum. “We’ll see.”

And that is so unfair, actually, because Jeonghan is really trying here. So instead of arguing, he just grins and takes your hand, pulling you toward the car.

"You trust me, right?"

You hesitate for a second too long.

Jeonghan squints.

"Okay," you say finally, sighing. "I trust you. For now." (Jeonghan will absolutely be holding onto that for life.)

The first stop is that little bookshop café you always used to drag him to, the one where you’d spend hours getting lost in shelves while Jeonghan sat in a corner, half-asleep, pretending to be deeply interested in a book he never actually read.

You blink when you realize where you are. “You remembered this place?”

Jeonghan scoffs, feigning offense. “Excuse me. I was a very supportive boyfriend.”

“You literally fell asleep on the couch last time we were here.”

“…I was a tired boyfriend.”

But you’re smiling now, eyes soft with something that makes Jeonghan’s chest ache.

"Come on," he says, nudging you toward the door. "I owe you a coffee. And maybe a book. Or five. Whatever shuts you up about my alleged napping problem."

Somewhere between coffee and Jeonghan deeply regretting letting you pick out a book for him ("This is 800 pages. Have you met me?"), he takes you to the park.

It’s nothing fancy—just a quiet place to walk, somewhere just yours, somewhere he can talk to you without the weight of everything pressing down too hard.

"You're still here," he says eventually, his fingers brushing against yours as you walk.

You smirk. "Yeah, well. I haven't decided if I'm staying."

Jeonghan groans. "Oh my God."

You laugh, nudging his shoulder playfully. But then, softer—“I’m glad you’re trying.”

And that—that is all Jeonghan needs.

Jeonghan was not planning on this part.

The night is winding down, and everything is going well, and he should just call it there before he does something stupid.

But then—

Then, as you’re walking past a store, you freeze.

Jeonghan follows your gaze—

And, oh.

Oh no.

Matching sweaters.

The pastel monstrosities. The ones that started everything. The ones he swore he would never wear again.

And you—you are grinning.

Jeonghan is so in love with you, it’s disgusting.

You turn to him, eyes gleaming. "One last time?"

Jeonghan exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re the actual worst.”

You tilt your head, completely unbothered. “So that’s a yes?”

Jeonghan looks at you, at your stupid smile, at the way your fingers are already reaching for the sweaters—

And, well.

What else is he supposed to do?

Sighing dramatically, he grabs the second sweater and pulls it on.

You beam at him, absolutely delighted.

"God," he groans, looking at his reflection. "This is so much worse than I remember."

"You love it."

Jeonghan turns, catching the way you’re looking at him—soft, affectionate, the way you used to, before everything got messy. Before he ruined things.

Before he got you back.

And—okay. Maybe the sweater isn’t that bad.

Jeonghan exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he admits, pulling you closer. “I really, really do.”

The thing about kissing you again is that it should be easy.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it—a lot—in the most pathetic, pining, staring-at-the-ceiling-at-2AM kind of way. It’s not like he hasn’t memorised the shape of your lips, the way you used to kiss him like you weren’t even thinking about it, like it was just natural for you to be that close.

But now, when you’re standing right in front of him, beaming at him in that stupid, unfairly charming sweater, it feels like the first time all over again.

You tilt your head slightly, as if daring him. “Are you gonna stare at me all night, or—”

Jeonghan kisses you before you can finish the sentence.

It’s not careful. It’s not calculated. It’s not like any of the times before, when he thought he had all the time in the world to figure this out.

It’s just him, leaning in like it’s the most obvious thing to do, his hands sliding against your waist like muscle memory, like they belong there. You gasp against his lips, surprised, but it melts away in an instant—your fingers curling into the fabric of his ridiculous sweater, pulling him closer, like you don’t even want him to second-guess it.

And Jeonghan—God, he could die like this.

It’s slow, and warm, and so achingly familiar that it makes his chest tighten, makes him want to grab onto you and never let go. He tilts his head, deepening it just enough to make sure you feel it, to make sure you understand—

That this isn’t just a kiss.

That this is a promise.

When you finally pull away, your breath is uneven, your lips way too tempting, and Jeonghan has never been good at restraint, so he almost kisses you again.

But then you blink up at him, slightly dazed, and—

“You taste like regret and poor life choices,” you murmur.

Jeonghan snorts, pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s your fault. You’re the one who made me wear this sweater.”

You laugh, quiet and breathless, and he feels it against his skin, and suddenly, everything is worth it.

Because you’re here.

And so is he.

And this time, Jeonghan isn’t letting you go.

Divider Credit: enchanthings

[blissfullyapillow]

┃It’s always you

₊˚⊹♡Jing Yuan x gn reader

₊˚⊹♡‎wc: 2,357~

₊˚⊹♡warnings: suicide (reader), angst with a happy ending, death & rebirth, soulmate au type beat 

₊˚⊹♡notes: I’ve been obsessing over Blade lately but Jing Yuan remains to be the OG lmao. On a serious note: I rediscovered the song Back 2 You by Selena Gomez during a time of emotional turmoil and.. voila.  I originally wasn’t going to upload this. I was gonna scrap it or just keep it for me, for personal use, but I decided to post it after I revised it. I wrote this for personal reasons I will not delve into, but I hope this helps someone else as much as it helped me. You’re loved, and there’s always someone out there who will listen, understand, and love you. I promise. ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

₊˚⊹♡Main Masterlist

Jing Yuan’s experienced many relationships before, ranging from platonic to romantic in nature.

Yet the end of said relationships failed to pierce his heart as deeply as his heartbreak for you.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

He still remembers that day vividly.

Your slumped figure sitting in a pool of your own blood, with a letter loosely held in your cold hands.

The rest of the scene became a blur, as his vision became clouded with tears.

a rare occurrence for a man like Jing Yuan.

He partly blamed himself, even though he knew your actions weren’t a reflection or a result of his own actions or feelings.

his heart lurched as a broken sob racked his trembling form. Still, he gently removed the beautiful parchment from your lifeless hand to scour your last words.

your written declaration of love and gratitude, for him, brought a self-deprecating smile to his lips. Your words are so powerful and moving, yet your body lay lifeless before him.

He takes a shuddering breath as his eyes slowly trail up your slumped figure. his fingers curl around your letter as his heart stops.

The sight of a dagger plunged deeply into your chest, directly into your heart, is all it takes for his soul to cry in agony.

His throat constricts, and his lungs fail to adequately exchange oxygen, yet…

He refuses to look away; he does not dare to tear his eyes away from the love of his life, even in her demise.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Jing Yuan never hid from the public eye. Even with the tragic, countless losses his heart continued to endure, he never resided in solitude for long.

…

Your death was the first time he remained in seclusion.

He knows you belong to the Vidyadhara, a humanoid race, so your body will be repaired.

but..

Your memories of him, of the time you two spent together, will not remain.

He doesn’t even know if he’ll encounter you again in his lifetime, but the possibility is high.

So, he waits.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

After Jing Yuan’s long period of seclusion following your death, he resumed work.

On a particularly slow day Fu Xuan stopped by to see the general of the Luofu. She knew of your fate, and although she was loath to admit it she was concerned for the general.

When she saw that lazy smile on his lips, she almost chided herself for being worried.

That is, until she realized his smile didn't meet his eyes.

She entertained small talk with the general as contemplated how to broach her concerns with the grief-stricken general. As the conversation slowly trailed off, she steeled herself. 

The Master Diviner braced herself for backlash as she gave the general unsolicited advice… albeit from the goodness of her heart; the general is a sloth at times, much to her annoyance, but she truly did wish him well. 

So, with that in mind, she cautioned him that if he were to meet your reincarnation he should not engage and move on.

Even as his lazy smile morphed into a deep rooted frown, she continued on. She informed him that there’s no guarantee your fate will differ from your past life, even if you two reunite.

Although Fu Xuan’s words struck a nerve, he knew she was coming from a good place.

After a brief farewell he watched her retreating figure. He considered her advice despite his reluctance. 

Though it pained him to admit it, her words were not ill advised. 

Maybe.. he should try to move on.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

He tried to heed Fu Xuan’s warning.. in his own way. 

He attempted another relationship, but shortly broke it off.

He deemed it a fruitless endeavor since his thoughts were filled with you as he was lying beside someone else. He’d hate to be inauthentic, so he did what was best for him and his brief companion.

It feels like millennia pass by as he moves through the motions. His duties as general serve as a welcome distraction for his desolate heart. 

Now, his droopy eyes rove over words that seemingly blur together as he reaches the end of the document. Once his signature is elegantly signed on the bottom of the document, he leans back in his seat to indulge in a brief moment of rest.

His sleep addled brain immediately thinks of you, as it usually does.

He reminisces about his very first encounter with you. 

He had made a visit to a bookstore with hopes of finding an engaging book that could be a much needed distraction from work.

Preferably, a book about cats.

He took his time to scan the vast array of books the store had to offer. His eyes lit up with unbridled joy as he found what he was looking for. 

He reached for the book, but before he could grasp it someone bumped into him from behind. When he turned around, there you were.

Your eyes were glazed over. It was obvious you were daydreaming about something and your mind was elsewhere. It took a few moments, but your eyes came into focus. 

As your anxious orbs stared into his eyes, he winked at you.  

He laughed at your flustered reaction; you began to apologize profusely as you tried to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t know it at the time, but he would grow fond of your clumsy actions. 

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Subconsciously, a smile forms on his lips as he remembers the adorable smile you graced him with when he dismissed your apologies. 

In contrast to his smile, a pained sigh leaves his lips. He’s struggling to recall the name of the bookstore.

After you died he avoided going anywhere near that bookstore. He physically couldn’t handle walking down that path, that same path you used to always accompany him on.

To those close to him, it was fairly obvious that your death impacted him greatly. Unfortunately they could only do so much to alleviate their general’s heartache.

Jing Yuan hated Yanqing’s blatant concern when he purposely took the long way back to his office. Even so, Jing Yuan continued to avoid the route all together, for many years. 

He evades it to this day.

He forces his heavy eyes to open, staring at nothing as he tries to snuff his beautiful memories of you.

…

….

He slowly puts the signed document down with a despondent groan. 

It’s no use.

For some reason, he can’t stop thinking about that bookstore.

…it feels like he’s forgetting something important.

His mind reels as he desperately tries to recall the name of the bookstore. His eyebrows crease in concentration once the name of the bookstore is on the tip of his tongue. 

Come on Jing Yuan, it shouldn’t take you this long to- 

Ah, he remembers now.

Jing Yuan looks down at the paper as he mindlessly fiddles with it. He doesn’t know why, but he feels compelled to visit the bookstore once more after so many years. However, with every fiber of his being, he tries to quell the urge. His finger taps against his knee as his leg bounces. 

He detests how easily he wants to give in. 

He’s avoided the store for years, so why does he-

…

Wait. 

He shoots up from his seat.

He’s quick to scan the document he signed until he finds the date. Once his eyes land on their target, he feels the air leave his lungs like someone punched him. 

Ah.

It’s the day you…

He takes a sharp intake of breath. His knee resumes bouncing as his heart pounds against his chest.

He moves abruptly, heading for the door. 

Some papers flutter off his desk due to his erratic movements. He pays no mind to the wayward documents as he swiftly leaves his office.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Jing Yuan finds himself walking down a road he hasn’t set eyes on in years. The esteemed man admires laughing children and busy salespeople as he walks down the familiar path.

It feels like a weight is lifted from his chest as he continues to walk. A tentative smile reaches his lips as he draws closer to the bookstore.

His heart threatens to burst from his chest as the sign comes into view so he stops walking to take a deep breath. 

He closes his eyes and centers himself. 

He focuses on the sounds of life around him; His trained ears pick up the sound of laughter, of footsteps that rush past him, of a baby babbling… 

Once he’s composed himself he completes his journey to the bookstore.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Honestly, he’s fond of this bookstore. It is where he first met you after all.

He leisurely peruses the books in stock as he smiles at the seller. They gaze at him curiously with a tentative smile in silent reply. They’re obviously surprised that the General of the Cloud Knights is here to pay a visit to their bookstore. 

He scans the selection one more time. When he doesn’t find anything of interest, he says his farewell to the shop owner. 

He did what he came here to do. He’s proud of himself for walking down this route after so much time has passed. He feels the best he ever has in years.

This was a healing experience for him. 

He turns around, ready to return to the many documents that await his approval and revision. He unwittingly bumps into someone during his haste, and blood rushes to his cheeks as he quickly apologizes.

The person stumbles backwards, but he’s quick to reach out and steady them. His eyes quickly scan the figure as he opens his mouth to apologize once again, and..

Oh.

Oh my.

The words die in his throat.

His heart leaps out of his chest and into the hands of the beautiful person in front of him.

You.

 He knows it’s you; your pretty features are permanently engraved in his memory.

Your expression is one of surprise, yet a subconscious smile, reminiscent of a past life, graces your beautiful lips.

His mouth parts in shock as his skin runs cold. He releases you to subtly wipe his clammy hands on his pants.

He regrets letting go of you immediately.

Your head tilts as you stare at him, and an ethereal smile presents itself on your lips.

The same lips he dreams about every night. 

The same lips he achingly yearns to kiss once more. 

He instinctively tilts his body in your direction. 

“General!? It’s a pleasure to meet you! Am I in your way? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

His Adam's Apple bops as he tunes out the rest of your words. His eyes remain zeroed in on your lips. They only look up when your lips stop moving. 

Golden eyes blatantly admire the sparkle of amusement in your gorgeous orbs.

He longs to pull you into his arms; he’s missed you so much. He was uncertain if he’d ever meet you again, and he didn’t know he’d do if he did.

He hopes you aren’t facing the same struggles you previously were. If you are, he won't hesitate to do everything in his power, and more, to prevent the same outcome from occurring. 

“I.. I missed-“ 

His voice… it’s..

Strained. 

Hoarse. 

In desperate need of water.

He coughs into his fist as an embarrassed blush graces his cheeks. In his urgency to reconnect with you, he forgot that you won’t remember him. You don’t know him since you’ve clearly molted, and everyone knows the memories of the Vidyadhara unfortunately don’t carry over.

But oh he hopes you’ll spend this lifetime you have with him.

All of it.

So he settles for an elated smile. His heart flounders in your hands when you visibly become flustered; you look down as a shy smile manifests itself on your divine lips.

He falls in love with you all over again. 

Oh, how he loves you.

“Don’t worry that pretty head of yours over it, I’d hate to see a frown mar those ravishing lips. The fault lies with me. ..As a way for me to amend my mistake, why don’t you accompany me on a walk?” His velvety voice makes you swoon, and you fail to hide how giddy you feel. 

With a knowing smirk he offers his arm to you, but you hesitate to accept his offer. 

“Are you sure, General? I may not own anything of interest, but I’m sure I can-“ “Oh, but you do. Please, indulge me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you see a glint of… something.. within them. You aren’t sure what it is.

Although his words leave you confused, you oblige. Your arm wraps itself snugly in his and your body moves closer to his own. 

His eyes water with unshed tears as he fails to mask his euphoria. His wobbly smile is the last thing you see before he hides his face from your view.

You remain none the wiser to the tear that managed to escape.

As you both walk up the road he’s avoided for years, his gaze trails back to you once more. He chuckles at the flagrant jubilation on your enchanting face. You were always bad at masking your emotions around him.

He initiates a conversation with you, and it isn’t long before he’s blessed with your melodious laugh.

He hopes that he’ll be able to revive the object of interest that you own.

His heart.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

As the years go by you grow close to Jing Yuan once more. You successfully revive his previously shattered heart, and you make him the happiest man in the universe when you agree to marry him. You remain by each other’s side for eternity, and in this lifetime of yours he’s proud to say he was able to grow old with you.

P.S: He always reunites with you after you molt, and you two continuously fall in love with each other in every life that you have.

There’s no one else he’d rather spend his immortality with than you.  

[aziraphales-library]

hello there! thank you so much for all the work you're doing, it's amazing:)

i was wondering (since i tried to search ao3 myself and found nothing), if you know about any pretty woman AUs? thank you so much and have a great day!

I do! Not a complete one unfortunately:

Pretty Boy by SerenityStargazer [E], WIP

Aziraphale Fell, real estate tycoon, finds himself in need of a companion during a business week in London. He meets Crowley in Soho and finds he enjoys the younger sex worker's company. They spend the week together and both are surprised to find themselves falling in love.

"Hey, handsome," Crowley purred, "want a date?"

"Right now," the blond man replied in a very proper, educated accent, "what I need are directions to the Ritz. Got myself turned around, I'm afraid."

"Five pounds for directions, luv," Crowley said calmly.

"Five pounds? That's ridiculous!" the man sputtered indignantly.

"Ten pounds. The price just went up."

"You can't charge me for directions!"

Crowley grinned. "I can do whatever I want, angel. I'm not lost." He stood up and turned his back, letting his arse lean against the window frame.

"Oh, very well," the man said, pulling out his wallet. Crowley opened the door and climbed in.

"For a twenty, I'll take you there personally," he offered.

Aziraphale handed the twenty over silently then tried to find first gear.

Other fics with similar premise:

The (Half) Boyfriend Experience by ZehWulf [M]

The image on the monitor remained static for another minute or so, but then the door to the connected room opened, and the pale, curly-headed figure of Crowley's client—a man who went by Fell at the club—stepped through. As always, he stopped just after closing the door behind him to collect himself, gaze trained on where Crowley's lower half was splayed wide on lewd display. There was a whole ritual of straightening cuffs and waist coat and shifting his weight that he would go through before approaching.

Crowley felt their lingering scowl soften as they watched with vague fondness as he worked himself through the motions. At first, they'd wondered if the whole process was some sort of pre-sex psych-up, or a fussy-looking-middle-aged man version of reflexive peacocking. But, Fell had been requesting them for long enough by now that they'd been able to observe the way things evolved over time: the gestures loosening up, the amount of time spent shortening.

The poor bastard was just anxious.

OR

Crowley works part time as a sex worker at a club, and one of their favorite, most baffling clients comes in looking like he's had just as bad a day as they have.

Dreaming of You by TawnyOwl95 [E]

AJ Crowley likes helping people discover and heal the neglected parts of themselves. Even if that's only for their scheduled session. He likes being a sex worker, although he's started to dream of some genuine intimacy.

Aziraphale Fell knows he isn't deserving of romance. As much as he might like the idea, a lifetime of neglect has left him insecure and afraid to reach for what he wants. He still dreams that one day he might be brave enough to take a chance.

Hired Heart (illustrated by many artists) by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge) [E]

As a result of his sheltered upbringing, Aziraphale made it to 50 without exploring his sexuality or coming out. After 50, all that changed - he's gay, he's out, and wants to find love. He also wants to have sex. He's a tad nervous about that. His friend Agnes suggests he consult a professional and get some no-strings practice and advice, and build some confidence. And her friend Tracy runs an agency…

Crowley has quite the breadth of sexual experience: he’s a high class escort. He’s been in his line of work for a long time, though in this industry, that’s not exactly an advantage. He likes his work, but the more he’s reminded that he’s not as young as he once was, the more he contemplates his exit strategy. When his bookings manager and friend Tracy gives him a new, nervous client, Crowley finds him unexpectedly captivating. In fact, Crowley can’t seem to get him out of his head.

A Smitten Crowley is also a very silly Crowley, so prepare for giggles and fluff along with your love story and smut...

Seirbheis by Kalimyre [E]

Human AU - Crowley is a sex worker, hired by the wealthy and eccentric Ezra Fell for a long weekend. He goes in expecting it to be just another job. But Ezra is not like other clients, and Crowley is soon in over his head.

In which our beloved ineffable husbands have clear, honest communication, a whirlwind romance, and tremendous amounts of soft, tender, kinky sex.

~Mod N

[croissanthemums]

soulmate au - @wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius trailed him with a heavy stomp, his hands grabbing Remus’ arms to stop him from walking away. “What the hell, Remus?! What’s your problem?”

Remus stopped in his tracks to turn towards Sirius. “My problem is that I love you!” he exclaimed before he could even stop himself from doing so. He snatched his arm back, balling his hands into a fist to prevent them from shaking, keeping it firmly at his sides.

Sirius stood right where he was, mouth slightly agape. The courage coursing through Remus’ veins was pushing him to say what he’s always wanted to, right from the second he realised what his feelings meant.

“I’ve been in love with you before I even knew what love was!” Remus paused to catch his breath, whilst also trying to drown out the drumming of his own heart. “I know I’m risking a lot saying this—our friendship—you! But fuck that—I…I can’t fucking stand this anymore. I can no longer fucking watch you mope about some bitch who doesn’t even give a single fuck about you—cos I love you and it hurts seeing you get hurt!”

“All this time I’ve been waiting for you to see me—actually see me! I was there when you were complaining about girls not wanting you. I was there when you endlessly whined after your exes broke up with you—I was fucking there!” Remus glared at Sirius, who still looked limp in his place. “When you started realising you like boys as well as girls and asked me if boys would find you attractive, I wanted to tell you then that it would be foolish for them not to see how wonderful you are and it would be their loss for not doing so—but I couldn’t cos you were my fucking friend.”

“When you asked me to set you up with someone gay—I was there, Sirius. Me. But you only saw me as a friend and nothing more. Nothing more!” Remus sighed exasperatingly. Throwing his frustrations at Sirius whilst telling him how he really feels was not a choice he would’ve done earlier today, or ever. But nature took its course and the universe told him to fuck it.

“Remus, I…” Sirius finally spoke, his eyes still wide. He raised his hand to reach Remus’ but seemed to changed his mind mid-way.

“What? No funny comebacks?” Remus challenged. The choice of letting his anger lead this conversation is much more ideal than actively contemplate the consequences of him admitting his feelings towards his best friend.

It was a choice between letting the rage out or letting the tears go. With the former, Remus could just pretend to be angry at Sirius. While the latter would eventually lead to a lifetime of hurt.

Not only was he breaking up their friendship by confessing, but saying how he feels out loud just made it seem more real.

“No.” Sirius replied, gulping. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Remus shouldn’t be looking but he was, not only that, he’s also turned on by it. “I’ve always seen you that way, Remus. Always.”

“What?” Remus blinked. It was his turn to be rendered mute. His head was swimming into thousands of different possibilities of what Sirius could’ve meant.

“You were the reason why I realised Iiked boys too.” he paused. “The moment I saw you on the train, with your stupid freckles and stupid hair and stupid smile—how could I not see you? The reason none of those relationships worked out was because of you—”

Remus scoffed, cutting Sirius off. “Oh, so now you’re blaming me?!”

“No! No! Of course not!” Sirius protested, his arms gestured into surrender. “I couldn’t stay in a relationship with them for long cos I didn’t like them as much as I do you! They could kiss me endlessly but the feeling it would give would never amount to the happiness I get when I’m simply next to you. You are the one I want, Remus. You’ve always been the one I want.”

“Then why do you keep dating other people?”

“Cos I’m a fucking knob and I didn’t know that you were someone I can have.”

Oh.

Oh.

Sirius took a step forward. “Please forgive me for all the stupid things I’ve done before. I can’t promise not to make stupid things again cos I know I’ll make more, but I swear that none of it will be done to hurt you.” he paused to take Remus’ hand, his eyes completely fixed on him. “Remus John Lupin, you may not believe in soulmates but I do—cos I believe I was put in this world to find you and love you.”

“And I believe I was put in this world to stop you from doing stupid things—well, more stupid things that could land you in Azkaban.” Remus replied. Sirius gave him a small smirk.

The warmth spreading throughout Remus’ entire body was undeniably strong. The love he has for Sirius Black—who’s a complete idiot—was stronger than the hatred he has in himself for falling for his bestfriend.

“I love you, Sirius.” Remus muttered. It didn’t take long for Sirius’ hands to cup Remus’ cheeks, capture his lips, and slide his tongue in. The way Remus imagined it happening before was magical, but the actual one was a hundred million times better.

Sirius broke the kiss to get a whiff of air, his forehead pressing into Remus’ as he ran his thumb across Remus’ cheek. “I love you so much more, Moony.”

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God Pt. 2

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you're resurrected after being killed (by Venti), not really angst but not really comfort or fluff either

-

Death was not as dark or empty as you had come to expect...

Was this death? Or maybe something in between—

Yes, that seemed like a better way to describe what you were experiencing, something in between real and unreal, existence and nothingness.

You couldn't think, see, feel, anything, as if you were simply a disembodied form of consciousness, waiting.

For what?

You didn't possess that answer, nor the ability to even contemplate the question. If you had the ability to think, you would have wondered briefly if this was what the characters you played as experienced when falling in battle, a void detached from both time and space.

This state of mere existence didn't last long, or, perhaps, it did. Perhaps it lasted many lifetimes, eons upon eons. It's not as if you would have recognized the difference, no different than how time passed when asleep.

You were pulled passively away, out of that void which welcomed you so, called for you, urged you to stay in its own impartial way. A call you didn't have the ability to respond to, as it simply wasn't your choice.

When you opened your eyes again you were met with something unfamiliar, the only hint of recollection stemming from a strong sense of déjà vu and nothing more.

It took you a moment to regain a sense of thought, of consciousness, remember that you were, in fact, an organic being even capable of having thoughts.

You blinked gently, taking in the scene before you, the soft breeze and wide planes spanning on for miles, the sparsely scattered trees, and the brief reflection of a river. You recognized it, in a way, and something in the back of your mind screamed that you were in danger, as if your subconscious knew of what your conscious self was trying so hard to remember.

It took but a second to move your head downward, your eyes finding themselves looking upon a kneeling form that seemed rather unaware of your presence, despite being directly beneath you. It took another moment for your brain to process what exactly you were seeing and why you felt so stricken with terror.

Oh.

Oh god.

As if having the air forcibly removed from your lungs, you felt the world around you collapse, instinctually bringing your hands up to your own throat where you last remembered feeling anything at all.

The sharp inhale is what caught his attention, what caused the previously silent archon, you had come to recognize as no other than your murderer, to raise his head in an unsure movement of fear and hope.

It was you, oh god, it was you.

The weight of every conceivable emotion that tangibly existed ran through his body, only an underlying inkling of self-restraint stopped him from lunging at your feet. He had been praying to you before your sudden appearance, begging for forgiveness, and what else could this be?

It had been only a month since your "passing", and Venti found himself engaging in ritualistic prayer every day since. It was the only thing that kept him sane with his past actions weighing on him constantly, a way to remind himself that you were still alive in spirit. While your mortal shell may be gone, the essence of the almighty creator would forever linger. It was only during these moments of prayer that Venti felt any semblance of the freedom he lost, the freedom he mourned, so he could pretend, if only for a moment, that everything was no different than how it was before that night.

The month had been the purest form of heavenly torture, and no amount of alcohol or sleep could distract him long enough to even pretend that all was well. His presence all but disappeared from the face of Teyvat, as he simply spent more time staring at one of your many shrines than breathing most days. The death of the creator, the murderer of an eternal god, a curse he alone had to bear the knowledge of.

His restraint broke quickly as you seemed to stumble backwards, creating more distance between the two of you than he was comfortable with.

"Your grace."

Felling your title on his tongue, feeling how it passed through his lips, he dreamed nightly of this moment, when he was able to dream of anything other than you so gracefully falling and the golden essence that seeped from your form where his arrow pierced it.

"You."

His heart fell, dropped down into his stomach, and shattered.

"You grace I—, I..."

Despite his seemingly endless internal thesaurus, the bards' mind drew a blank on what to say next.

What could be said? Was this not forgiveness? Was it not your will to grace him again with your presence after an agonizing month alone?

He didn't know you, not really, not personally. All he could attribute you to was the subtle feeling in the back of his mind, the strange whisper helping to guide his choices, the feeling of being watched over, before his mistake that is.

He knew of your legend, too. All the thousands of songs composed in your honor by heart, the unrelenting chattering of people carried by the wind when your name graced their lips. Every short story and unprovable myth about your existence prior, your power of creation and how you passed that power down to the mortals you created.

He knew the idea of you, no different than how his people knew the idea of Barbatos, though never truly him. Yet, as he looked upon you, past the fear, past your human vessel, there was a sense of deep familiarity that rang out and flooded his senses. A feeling that made him want nothing more than to simply know you, know everything unspoken and hidden beneath the layers of divinity, stay with you always and cherish every new piece of information, no matter how miniscule.

You glanced quickly to the left, thinking very carefully about simply making a run for it, wondering how much time you'd have before he could draw his bow and why he hadn't done so yet. Your body froze slightly at the thought, flashes of your prior life running through your mind and the unbridled fear they brought.

Venti seemed to pick up on your train of thought and couldn't stop himself from jumping into action at even the notion of more space being forced between you.

"I'm so so so sorry. I know I can't begin to repent, but please. I took care of the offender! You don't have to worry about them now—"

While rambling, Venti was inching ever closer to where you stood, trying to get close enough to safely grab on to any part of you and never let go. If he could just touch you, just secure the fact in his mind that you were alive.

Your mind was spinning with all the information, still not working at full capacity, muddled and hazy.

"Offender?" Was all you managed to choke out, wondering briefly if he was referring to your past life.

His face paled slightly at your tone. Did you really, truly not know the reason he was forced to—?

"The one in your throne, the one who took your place... The one who— who ordered your... death."

It hurt him to say the word, physically pained him, as if it was a blade caught in his throat, a harsh reminder of his transgressions.

"I— what?"

Venti had made it close enough to wrap his arms around your legs, clinging on for dear life as he reviled in feeling you, prepared to take any blows from your hand if only to stay there, it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it, and it would be blasphemy to deny anything you were gracious enough to give him.

You jumped at the sudden contact, but it was obvious he meant you no harm, though, that fact was particularly hard to convince your mind as it screamed at you to run away from the offender.

For a brief moment, the Venti you knew flashed in your mind as you felt his hands gripping the fabric of your clothes, clouded your vision with how often you used to admire him, back when this was all nothing more than a game. Just a simple game. The concept felt so foreign now.

You shifted your weight slightly and felt him hold on tighter. It took you a moment to realize he was crying, silent tears adorning his soft features.

What could you do? Was it even humanly possible to forgive something of this nature? Had any other being ever been faced with making this choice?

You had to clear your mind, ignore everything around you and focus on what you now knew. This was real, you were some figure of importance— or at the very least looked similar to one, and your death was ordered by someone who had control of even the gods of this world.

You looked down again at him, how he looked so desperate and utterly heartbroken, how he really believed himself to be the bearer of the ultimate transgression.

Without thinking, you moved your hand to his face, brushing your fingertips against the flushed skin, damp with tears. His eyes opened at your touch as he looked up at you, his hands moving from around your leg to your hand, grasping it tight as he held it to his face. This was certainly an odd form of comfort, if it could even be called that, but any touch from you was nothing but divine bliss for him.

Venti mumbled things against your skin now as he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing again, as if in prayer. He spoke breathy promises of love, devotion, and repentance, of an infinity without pain or sorrow under his watch, how he'd spend his entire immortal life by your side if you'd allow it, making up for his grave sin.

The few words you caught only led to a growing concern. This wasn't the carefree and playful bard you knew, nor was it the caring but serious god who loved his nation, this was something else entirely, something desperate and zealous, something dangerous...

You started to wonder how long it would take for you to regret your inevitable resurrection when faced with an immortal god who would not live to see you part from him again…

[fujoshi-yappings]

Hi! I guess that Ivan would meet Till, Mizi and Sua again in the au where everyone is a time traveler. Guess they would also find that Ivan is suffering from amnesia and is in some sort of weird codependent relationship with Luka.

Mizi and Till would probably hate Luka for it.

+1

Luka kinda gaslighted amnesiac Ivan into their relationship. Part of Ivan knows something is wrong but he is starved for any positive human relationship. And Luka is the closest to it he could have in this time. Ivan knows he is being manipulated but he accepts the manipulation

Mizi and Till hates Luka for the memories they had in their previous life. Where he used Sua's and Ivan's death against them. They hate him more after seeing Ivan (he looks smaller than the Ivan in their past memories). They believe that Luka is manipulating Ivan. They're not exactly wrong.

Till also misses Ivan in all ways that matter. He did a lot of contemplation in the rebel base and the memories he loved to remember where those with Ivan. He also wants to know what Ivan truly feels regarding Till after the memories of the kisses and sacrifice. Which is why it's hard to see the current Ivan glued to Luka the way Ivan used to do with Till. Luka keeps smirking at his direction and Till wants to punch him but hesitates because Ivan would glare at him for daring to hurt Luka-hyung. (But at the same time Ivan will bonk Luka's head and tell him to stop antagonizing others and Luka will just pout and then Ivan will pepper his head with kisses) Till is jealous

Ivan doesn't like going near Mizi, Sua and Till. While there's a tiny part of happiness that Ivan didn't understand, the larger part of him wants to avoid them. It's not just because of Luka, Ivan gets headaches everytime he spends too much time with them. This Ivan doesn't like pain because Unsha and even Luka ingrained it to him.

Till and Mizi definitely wants to cry seeing Ivan avoid them. Sua feels strange at that. On one hand, she had always wished that Ivan go away. However, it was strange to see Ivan not even wearing a mask of humanity in interacting with them. Mizi had given Sua an equivalent of verbal beating so Sua did a lot of reflecting. She will admit that she had been unfair to Ivan in both lifetimes when Sua had also depended on him for a reality check and she can't even apologize for her wrongs when Ivan doesn't remember.

Hyuna kinda pities him for being the object of Luka's obsession.

[seiwas]

👀 hello. i keep thinking about oikawa being perfect for the exes to lovers trope as you wrote in the tags for a reblog. 😭 with that said, do you have fic recs based on that? which ones are your fave(s)? 🥹

nonie hello!!! omg thank you for asking this 😌🥹 exes to lovers oikawa lives in my mind all the time oh my god it's my instant click when i read fic for him!!!

here are some of my faves, arranged by length:

in love and war by kisskawa [1.3k] summary: you have bad friends and a loving ex. drunk fic

a contemplation on dreams by duino [3.2k] summary: You run into your ex at a club in Brazil. What are the chances?canon compliant

目送 by ahtsumu [5.4k] summary: you spend a lifetime watching him go, sometimes with your stomach tied in knots, sometimes with tears in your eyes, but always with love. non-linear, canon compliant

in spite of distance, the ocean by sunamour [5.7k] summary: loving someone comes with hardships, and some more than others. loving oikawa is easy; until it isn’t anymore. will your love for each other be able to transcend the distance between you? or will it just result in the timeless tale of two lovers torn apart by the ocean? slow burn, canon compliant

let's fall in love for the night by dimplesum [14.3k] summary: The last thing you would have ever expected is to be thrown into a mission with your ex to match a couple. With all this unresolved tension from your breakup, you’re not sure how you’ll survive this match with him, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to match this couple up no matter what because there’s no way you’ll risk being sent to hell. cupid!au, kind of college!au

first love, late spring by miyachondria [30.9k] summary: Oikawa Tooru’s eyes are still the same shade of honey brown, and you still fall in love the way you used to: hard, plummeting, like a burning comet making its way across the night sky. two-part fic, canon compliant

these are all super worth the read!!! i'm pretty sure i cried in most of these, or at least teared up 😭

i hope you enjoy nonie!! 💕

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

Love & Scotch: dx: Friendship & New Beginnings

Masterlists: [Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer] || [Ethan Ramsey x Ellie Shepherd] || [Love & Scotch Crossover]

Characters: Thomas Hunt (HWU), Ethan Ramsey (OpH) Pairings (mentioned only): Thomas x Alex ; Ethan x Ellie Book: HollywoodU + Open Heart Word Count: ~650 Synopsis: Hunt and Ethan share a drink before Hunt's wedding.

Series Background:This takes place in my Hollywood U AU. Alex and Thomas are engaged. Ethan is an old friend whom the couple reconnected with. Alex is the biggest shipper of Ethan and Ellie(MC), and is thrilled Ethan finally took  her advice to do something about his feelings. [Catch up on Love and Scotch]

Chapter Background: This takes place after dx: healing, as well as after Ellie has her PTSD better managed.

The famed Hollywood director stared at the amber liquid in his tumbler, watching as the light enhanced the brilliant color in the glass, causing a beautiful glow. His attention shifted to the esteemed doctor beside him as he slowly sipped his drink. "Thank you for being here, Ramsey. I appreciate you flying out again. It means a lot to have a drink with you before tomorrow."

"It's the least I can do. Your friendship has meant a lot, even more so recently, with all that has happened," Ethan replied thoughtfully. "I'm not sure we would have gotten through the attack without you and Alex there." His voice trailed away as a shiver racked his spine, reminding him of that dreadful day. He tried to brush the thought away. "Plus, I could never turn down an opportunity to enjoy some of your top-shelf scotch." He lifted his glass of the 60-year-old Macallan toward Hunt. "To your last night as a bachelor."

Hunt reciprocated the gesture, lifting his glass toward his friend's before taking another sip. The corner of his lips pulled into a subtle smile. The creases around his eyes told of the joy he felt inside. It was a look he couldn't seem to shake recently, no matter how much he tried.

It wasn't that he hadn't seen his friend happy before, but Ethan knew this was different. This was something deeper, something true, and something that would last a lifetime. He felt his own heart quicken in his chest at the notion. He tried to shake it away; could he really be considering it? He turned his focus back toward his friend, hoping to focus on his upcoming wedding instead. "Can't believe you're getting married tomorrow, Hunt." He shook his head, still in mild disbelief. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Hunt stifled a soft chuckle, bliss filling his every feature. "Nor did I." He let the moment linger as he reflected before continuing. "Isn't it something, how one person can change the entire direction of your life in a way you never anticipated, and yet, somehow, it becomes the best thing for which you could hope."

"Yeah," the doctor nodded thoughtfully in consideration. "I suppose it happens when you aren't looking and when you least expect it."

"It appears to be as such," Hunt paused, offering his friend a knowing look. "I trust you feel the same."

His brow rose a moment as he pondered the question. It was a question that had been on his mind a lot lately. Not that it hadn't been a flicker in his mind earlier, but the attack changed everything. "I suppose I must," he relented. "But that's for another day. This weekend is about you!"

"Unless it could be more than that," Hunt suggested.

"And take away from your day?" Ethan shook his head, hoping to put the conversation to an end.

"Alex would find it as more adding to the merriment." He brought the honeyed liquid to his lips, savoring the taste. "In fact, she might consider it the best wedding present."

Ethan contemplated his words. It wasn't the first time he had considered it. It was something he had thought increasingly about, but was she ready? Was he? Was now the right time? She'd been through so much. His thoughts drifted to the velvet ring box buried in his suitcase. He had no plans when he packed it, yet he felt the need to bring it. But what if she said no? He couldn't ruin Hunt's special day. He shook away the thought. It wasn't the right time. This was about Thomas and Alex, not them.

The pair relaxed comfortably, sinking further into the lounge chair, savoring the top-shelf liquor. They sat in a comfortable silence, relishing the warmth in their chest—a warmth that went deeper than the drink in their hands.

A/N: I wanted to write a longer fic but my brain is still working on getting over it's writer's block so this is all I've got, but I still am happy to have ANYTHING for this series since it's been on hiatus for so so long!

I hope you enjoyed this fun little look at Ethan and Hunt's friendship!

[writingforfun0714]

Hey everyone!!

So sorry it’s been longer than normal. My mother rejoined the workforce after 15yrs as a SAHM so I’ve been having to help out more with my kid siblings along with my regular job (and now with holidays).

Here is Chapter 7 for my Arcane fanfic Sisters of Mine.

LINK FOR ALL CHAPTERS (Recommended reading before this)

Sisters of Mine

Chapter 7

Summary: Jinx and Vi reunite while Viktor and Jayce make a discovery about Hextech.

Warnings: slight AU? Female child reader-insert, POV changes, LONG, follows 1x6, lemme know if I need more

Word Count: 9,578

3rd POV

As Sevika makes her way back to the Last Drop after fighting Vi, Y/N makes her way as fast as she can back to the Sanctuary. The girl races down the dark, narrow streets until she gets to a seemingly dead-end alley. There’s a small space between two abandoned buildings that opens up. The Undercity hasn’t changed much in the last decade. Even when older Zaunites such as Viktor were little, it was still a dank, dirty place. Even more so back then, which is why Viktor’s health is deteriorating now. As a child, it was only his leg. Then after spending so much time with the gasses in the fissures, Viktor’s lungs were starting to be affected. As a young boy, Viktor met Singed, the doctor that Silco works with currently. Singed even told Viktor that he would live with this disease, there was no fixing it, but there were alternatives. The doctor explained that even though nature made humans resistant to change, humans also have the capacity to change their nature. Perhaps it’s Singed that sparked Viktor’s interest in Jayce’s Hextech theory.

As Y/N hurries back, she decides to go the longer but less conspicuous way. Mostly used by children, a rocky path cuts its way through the buildings, following an oily creek. The gasses of the fissures mixing with the waters of the Undercity. The path Viktor followed to Singed’s lair.

Viktor hides away in his steel oasis. After his prognosis, he needed time alone. Every medical professional the Zaunite saw all said the same thing. It’s terminal. As far as Viktor can tell, his disease is related to the gasses in the fissures in the undercity. Heimerdinger finds his assistant all alone and approaches with a gentle reveal that he knows about Viktor.

“I’ve heard your prognosis. I’m so sorry my boy,” the Yordle says, his bright blue eyes shine sadly.

“Do you contemplate death Professor?” Viktor asks.

“Only that of friends,” the professor admits. His species is considered to be immortal, compared to that of humans.

“Hmph,” Viktor sighs sadly.

“You should be proud of your accomplishments Viktor,” Heimerdinger tells the young dying man.

“My accomplishments will be short lived, even in your memory,” Viktor responds.

“I’ve known many students in my lifetime. It’s a sad truth at those who shine the brightest often burn the fastest,” Heimerdinger admits. He pats Viktor’s shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts. My office door is always open Viktor,” Heimerdinger says and leaves his assistant to his thoughts.

Back in the upper area of Piltover, Mel is at her personal abode with Jayce, painting. The Noxian Councilor often used the artistic craft as a creative outlet. She had been frustrated with Jayce since he just up and disappeared right after the two had been intimate until she learned why he disappeared.

“Viktor’s dying,” Jayce tells Mel as she makes a stroke of red on the canvas with her pallet knife, pausing. She glances at the young inventor turned Councilor.

“We think it has something to do with the gasses in the fissures where he grew up. The exact thing we wanted to fix with Hextech,” Jayce says. Mel sets her paint and pallet down and walks over to Jayce, who’s sitting on the floor.

Mel feels empathy for Jayce. She never wanted to live the life she’s had. Her mother made her an outcast. Her brother is…missing, at least, as far as she knows. Her father…a man of mystery, practically a stranger to her. She knows Jayce never wanted to be a Councilor. But it was the only way. He needed to be the head of Hextech.

Jayce talks with Mel and admits his closeness to Viktor before taking note of her painting. Mel admits that she is an outsider in her family.

“I fell short of Medarda standards,” was Mel’s explanation but Jayce didn’t believe her. In fact, he wondered if she even believed it herself.

The painting was of sail boats, presumably Noxian sail boats with red sails on a pale yellow background that appears to be Noxus. The boats are facing away, leaving. Mel’s banishment.

Down in the Undercity…

Ekko is pacing around near the mural when he spots the little girl and runs to her.

“Y/N!” Ekko exclaims as she leaps at his legs and wraps her arms around his hips tightly.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She cries.

“Are you hurt?!” He asks, prying the girl off him to get a look at her. She’s dirty and her face is streaming with tears but no blood.

“N-No-“ Y/N whimpers, sniffling.

“C’mere,” Ekko says and pulls the girl into him, wrapping one arm around her while he cups the back of her head, his fingers getting tangled in her wild hair.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he says and the kid relaxes a bit.

“I…I saw her. I saw…Vi,” Y/N admits and Ekko freezes, his eyes widening.

“She..she got stabbed by Sevika. But…an Enforcer saved her,” Y/N tells the older boy. Ekko pulls back kneels down to Y/N’s height. He puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Y/N, I need you to be absolutely sure-“

“I’m sure. I saw them. It was Vi. The girl Enforcer with her…I think…I think they know each other,” Y/N says.

Ekko’s POV

“I’m sure. I saw them. It was Vi,” my little sister assures me.

“The girl Enforcer with her…I think…I think they know each other,” Y/N adds. My eyes widen. Oh no. All Enforcers work for Silco. If Vi is with one of them and the Enforcer is nice to Vi, then that means they’re working together. Are they working together for Silco?

“There’s…something else,” Y/N’s timid voice gets my attention.

“What?” I ask cautiously.

“Sevika…I…I think she saw me,” she says and my eyes widen.

“I’m sorry-I’m sorry-“ she starts to plead. I have to assume the worst. Sevika will tell Silco. Worst case scenario is his goons and experiments will invade our hideout. Best case, he’ll try and hide Y/N’s existence from Jinx.

“I didn’t mean to-I just wanted to get to Vi but she got stabbed-“ Y/N says, her voice getting my attention.

“O-Ok-ok-ok, listen to me very carefully. I need you to stay here. I’ll check them out for myself,” I decide.

���W-What? No! I wanna come too!” Y/N insists and I pause, remembering how she had come to get me that night 6yrs ago. Her and Powder were left behind. I know they both have insecurities with abandonment…but now-

“I have to come too. This is my only chance,” Y/N begs and a part of me deep down can’t help but think that she has a point. But…but memories of what happened that night assault my mind. I can’t let the same thing happen to Y/N. I have to protect her, even from herself. It’s my job.

“I need you to stay here,” I insist and Y/N starts to cry.

“That’s not fair!” She snaps as tears slip out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“I have to do this, it’s for your own good Y/N-“ I try telling the 10yr old girl.

“No! You won’t even let me try to save our family! They’re your sisters too!” She snaps angrily at me and that’s when I feel the emotions rise in me. The sadness, the false hope that I pushed away for Y/N’s sake and…and the anger…the anger BECAUSE it happened.

“My priority is you! Don’t you understand!? You think you can do these things but you just can’t Y/N!” I snap angrily at the girl, who gasps, flinching at my words as if I had physically hit her, like Vi did to Powder all those years ago. I watch as Y/N seems to be arguing with herself. Her face flashes with all kinds of emotions and she looks away, not making eye contact with me, almost as if she’s remembering something. What, I’m not sure. She gasps as her tears turn to a steady stream leaking out of her eyes. I immediately regret snapping at her.

“Y-Y/N-I-I didn’t mean-“ I stutter slightly, taking a step towards her, reaching out but the girl backs away, clearly aware of the situation. She shakes her head again at me.

“Y-You’re…You’re just like them…You’re just like both of them!” Y/N yells at me. For a moment I wonder who she’s talking about. She can’t possibly be referring to Vi and Powder. Y/N’s loved them despite everything that’s happened. I guess she must’ve seen my confused face because she humphs and stomps her foot.

“The boys! You’re just like them! They thought I couldn’t do anything either,” Y/N says sadly.

“That’s not what I-“ I try.

“Liar! Liar-liar-liar!” Y/N exclaims, cutting me off, shutting her eyes, squeezing the sides of her head, gripping her hair tightly. I frown worriedly. This behavior has become more and more…well…more. She reminds me of Powder in that way.

“Y/N! Y/N-listen to me,” I say, grabbing the girl’s wrists and gently loosening her grip before slowly pulling her arms down. She looks at me with those big bright eyes.

“I’m going to go after Vi myself. I need you here to protect everyone else,” I tell her and that seemed to get her attention.

“You’re the only one I can trust with this job Y/N. I need you to do this for me,” I plead, wiping away the girl’s tears. She sniffles a bit, wiping her nose before blinking.

“I…Are you sure you want me?” She asks, her voice a bit small and timid. I nod.

“I’m sure,” I don’t hesitate with my reply. She thinks on it and eventually nods.

“I’ll get Kiyi and Senna to help me,” she tells me and I nod approvingly. The two young women get along well with Y/N the most, except for Scar and I’m glad she has older females in her life that aren’t her sisters.

“Now, where did you say you saw Vi and that Enforcer go?” I ask and Y/N tells me they were headed towards the Sumps. Where the girls used to live before Vander.

3rd POV

Ever since Viktor’s prognosis, the disabled young man hasn’t given up hope. He’s sitting in his shared lab with Jayce, though lately, it seems like Viktor has been the one to put in the work with Hextech. He understood Jayce has extra priorities now that he’s a Councilor and actually, it’s allowed Viktor to pursue tests he wouldn’t have otherwise done if Jayce was there.

Viktor remembers his childhood, how as a boy, Viktor found the man who would come to take the boy under his wing. He wouldn’t have gotten far with Jayce’s original idea of Hextech if it hadn’t been for Singed.

A whispering sounds and at first Viktor can’t tell if it was real or not. It feels beckoning. Viktor feels his head pulse. His headache hadn’t gone away from earlier. The Arcane is growing. Viktor eyes the Hexcore. The different runes all shift and move, stopping briefly on each sequence. The unknown possibilities feel…hopeful to Viktor. So much so that he reaches out and once his finger touches the Hexcore, Viktor’s eyes roll into his skull.

Back in the Undercity…

A mellow song plays on the jukebox inside the Last Drop. It’s empty, save for the bartender, Thierem. He’s nice, though a bit nervous around Silco and Jinx. He reminds the explosively wild teenager of the man Vander had working at the bar when she was a child. Huck was his name. She had seen him once, stalking around Benzo’s shop but Jinx hadn’t really paid him any mind as he disappeared.

The door opens, getting the bartender’s attention. He doesn’t see any sign of anyone so he shrugs to himself and goes back to wiping the counter down.

“Chuck!” Jinx exclaims, startling the man, making him jump back a bit when he sees the blue-haired girl is sitting on her stool.

“Uh-Th-Thierem. M-My name’s Thierem,” he corrects Jinx.

“Nice try Chuck,” she argues playfully before tapping the counter, indicating she wants a drink. The guy grabs Jinx’s cup and fills it with fruit juice.

“What’s all the hubbub?” Jinx asks.

“B-Boss wants us to grab someone up,” Thierem, or Chuck, as Jinx calls him explains as he passes her drink with a straw in it to her.

“Someone? Anyone? Who’re you grabbing?” Jinx asks, playing with the stolen Hextech gemstone.

“Some girls. I-I-I mean I-I’m not grabbing girls. O-Other than…those ones,” he stutters. She jumps and leans over the counter, hugging the bartender.

“You’re doing great Chuck!” Jinx exclaims.

“Here, for your troubles,” she says and pins a grenade on his back before grabbing her cup and walking to the staircase that leads to Silco’s office.

“Gah!” Chuck yelps as it explodes pink paint on his back. He sighs with relief when he realizes he’s fine as Jinx heads upstairs.

Vi’s POV

The Rookie and I make our way to the Sumps, where my sisters and I used to live before even meeting Vander. I remember our parents, our biological parents clearly. I remember seeing their dead bodies on the Bridge that morning 10yrs ago. Powder not so much. She remembers we had parents before Vander…and that our mom smelled like axle grease but that’s about it. And Y/N..well, she was just a baby when our parents were killed and she always called Vander ‘Dad’. She knew no other person as Dad. Y/N could be dead now for all I know. Who knows if she actually found Ekko that night Vander was killed. I shake my head as we get to a cliff near a giant purple neon sign.

“What the hell is that?” I ask, gripping my wound with one hand while my other arm is draped over Caitlyn.

“The sign?” She asks as I remove my arm.

“Never mind,” I shake my head slightly. I glance over the edge and see it’s a long drop. I have to do it.

“Do you think you can-?” The Rookie begins to ask but I already leap off. I position my arms ready to catch myself but the hit is so hard I feel the wind get knocked out of me!

“Oomphf!” I groan and hit a wooden support beam before falling to the ground.

Caitlyn’s POV

“Do you think you can-?” I begin to ask but that’s when Vi suddenly leaps off the edge. I watch as she hits the wooden beam below us. She looks like she caught it but the hit is so hard I hear her groan before hitting another beam before falling to the ground. I wince slightly before shaking my head.

“Shit,” I say to myself before trying to look for a way down. I find a few footholds before I can reach out to a broken support and climb down. If she wasn’t hurt from the stab wound before, Vi certainly would be now. She so stubborn, I think to myself. I’m so focused on Vi that I don’t notice that we’re being followed.

3rd POV

As Vi and Caitlyn make their way down to the Sumps, Silco’s guys follow in close pursuit, getting close to the chasm. They either hadn’t cared or realized that they are also being followed by Ekko and the Firelights that went with him, including Scar. Y/N is looking after his baby back home.

Silco’s guys keep running, not spotting Ekko perched on a dilapidated sign overlooking the chasm. The purple neon sign glows in the distance. Ekko tilts his head.

“Move in,” he orders and the Firelights follow stealthily thanks to their hoverboards.

At the Last Drop…

Sevika makes her way upstairs to Silco’s office. She opens the door and limps in. Vi got in her fair share of hits on Sevika before the one-armed woman managed to shank Vi’s side.

“We lost her,” Sevika growls frustratedly to the back of Silco’s chair.

Thinking Silco was behind the desk, Sevika’s eyes widen when the chair spins around and reveals Jinx menacingly sitting there instead.

“Lost who?” Jinx asks. The older woman tries approaching but her boot trips on a wire, releasing a thick gas. Sevika coughs and stumbles forward, leaning on Silco’s desk. Her vision starts to blur as Jinx puts on a gas mask. Sevika tries reaching to the blue-haired girl but the lack of oxygen causes her to pass out as Jinx wiggles her fingers at her tauntingly.

Sevika starts to come to when she feels a spinning movement. She groans quietly before Jinx suddenly slaps her hard across her face, jolting the older woman awake. Jinx smiles and sighs dramatically.

“I feel like you and I got off on the wrong arm,” Jinx taunts as she sits on Silco’s desk, pulling Sevika closer since she’s tied to Silco’s chair. Jinx pulls a knife out threateningly and Sevika humphs with a smirk on her lips.

“No need, it’s your sister,” she says and Jinx’s eyes widen at the mention of Vi. Jinx sees Vi’s disappointed face from that night all those years ago flash in her mind.

“She’s back. It’s not what you think. She’s with some girl Enforcer. Guess she replaced you,” Sevika taunts back at Jinx.

“You’re lying!” The wildly explosive teenager snaps, stabbing the chair next to Sevika’s face.

“Humph, why bother? It’s only a matter of time before you implode and Silco finally gets the message that you’re about as good for our cause as you were for your family—Jinx,” Sevika taunts and Jinx inhales sharply.

Jinx whimpers and starts to fake cry, making Sevika smirk until Jinx sneezes loudly, shoving Sevika’s chair back.

“Hah! 10 out of 10 toots! I think I know just how to send him that message,” Jinx says when Sevika scoffs at her. Jinx puts a hand on the back of the chair and spins it, laughing.

Silco’s POV

I’m at the Sheriff’s house. His daughter, Ren let me in. She looked uncomfortable when I let my guys in as well but I assured her they wouldn’t harm her and to diffuse the tension, I suggest we play blocks. Thanks to my own daughter, I know to sit on the floor and split the blocks evenly between us so we can both build. I ask the girl a few questions about her father but she doesn’t know too much.

The Sheriff returns home. I can hear his footsteps approaching. The door opens and I see Marcus’ face fall when he spots me and my men sitting around Ren’s room.

“Ah, about time Daddy joined us,” I say, “you were so busy, little Ren here saw me in.” I gently pinch the girl’s cheek with a smile. Despite the gentleness of the gesture and the girl smiling, I know that my physical touch sends a message to Marcus. He gasps and looks around, as if just now noticing my men. One rips out a page in a storybook.

“Let’s talk outside,” Marcus suggests.

“Can’t you see we’re playing?” I ask, glancing at the girl, who nods.

“You remember our old friend Vi, don’t you? Vander’s daughter. She was about your age. Her father went on a long trip and Daddy here assured me that she left with him,” I ask, looking between Marcus and his daughter. Marcus gulps nervously.

“But it seems she never made it. Isn’t that sad? Could you imagine being separated from your father?” I ask Ren before glaring up at Marcus. The Sheriff gasps quietly.

“She’s…in a safe place,” Marcus tries to assure me as he glances at his daughter.

“She’s in the Lanes,” I argue, looking at the Sheriff coldly.

“That’s not possible-“ he says surprised.

“There’s an Enforcer with her. A girl. Roughly the same age,” I tell Marcus and I see him think about my description.

“Caitlyn,” he says and I remember the name for later, just in case.

“She’s a Kiramman. Just like them, she does whatever she wants,” Marcus tells me, “I…can’t control her.” I roll my eyes at him before standing up, towering over Ren and our block tower we made.

“Then of what use are you?” I ask, spreading my arms slightly.

“I’ll track her down. I can fix this. Please,” Marcus assures me, begging. I smile.

“Everyone makes mistakes, right? What’s important is that we don’t repeat them,” I say and I watch Marcus look behind me. My guy waves tauntingly at the Sheriff.

“My people are tracking Vi and this Caitlyn. They cannot be allowed to resurface,” I order.

“Do we understand each other?” I ask, glaring at Marcus, who nods.

“Hmm..” I look down at Ren and bend over so my hands are on my knees and I chuckle humorlessly before kneeling down. Marcus’ eyes widen. I pick up a wooden block and dangle it precariously over the top of the tower.

“Hm,” I let the block go and once it touches the tower, the other blocks come clattering down. Ren looks at me and gasps.

“Oops. Ah, so sorry. Accidents happen,” I say as an apology to Ren but as a threat to Marcus when I glare at him. I motion to the others and walk out, leaving the Sheriff with his daughter, knowing he got my message.

3rd POV

Back topside, in Viktor and Jayce’s lab, Viktor is showing Jayce the Hexcore. Each segment now has 4 runes each on it. Viktor shows Jayce that the Hexcore responds to organic matter and creates new plant life with glowing purple accents. Jayce thinks it’s incredible and while Viktor confirms this is the first time they’ve seen anything like this, it’s not everlasting. The plants wither and die, disintegrating to dust after a moment, and Viktor saddens. Jayce, however sees this as an opportunity to keep building, keep working on a solution. Viktor, however, worries he won’t have enough time so Jayce offers to get Heimerdinger to get his opinion. After all neither inventor would be where they are now without the Yordle.

Caitlyn’s POV

I finally get down and see Vi struggling to get up. She’s holding her stab wound with one hand as I hurry towards her, panting slightly. I grab hold of Vi and help her to her feet when I spot something moving in the distance. It makes a squealing type noise that makes me shudder. I see a figure hunched over and I think its eating.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“It’s where the kind of people you topsiders don’t wanna think about, wind up,” Vi explains. I hear a man whimper near me so shine a my flashlight on him. He flinches and shields his face. My eyes widen when I see his skin is almost rotten looking. I shine the light over and another person, with the same affliction quivers and gasps, shielding his eyes at the light, so I shut it off.

“It was never this big, though,” Vi tells me and I frown.

“There,” Vi says as she turns. I see an abandoned building that appears to be crushed by the neon sign’s support structure. I open the door and I see a space to the side. I help Vi sit down as bugs scurry away. She groans and I see she’s really not looking good. I shut the door behind us.

Vi’s POV

Caitlyn opens the door and I sit down almost immediately. My vision fades in and out, going blurry at times. I look up and because the roof is gone, I see something moving on the upper beams. I try and focus. The figure comes into focus and I hear a familiar laugh. It’s Powder! I watch as she stands and runs along the beam. I groan and shut my eyes before glancing at the wall across from me.

It’s nearly crumbling down but the drawings are still clear. Powder did them when she was young, back when our parents were alive. I see my blue-haired sister on the worn hammock that we had there for an extra bed. I take a breath when I see Caitlyn approach me with a white cloth. She reaches out and tries to wipe the blood I can feel on my cheek, but I stop her, blocking her with my forearm before pushing her arm away.

“I know you have your reservations about me, but this only works if we can trust each other,” the Enforcer tells me.

“It doesn’t work. It never has,” I say, remembering the ‘deal’ Vander made with the former Sheriff Grayson.

“You topsiders always find a way to screw us,” I growl quietly.

“I suppose topside is to blame for all your misfortunes,” Caitlyn tells me and that’s when I hear a whimpering. I look behind Caitlyn and see Powder drawing on the wall, humming. I can hear Y/N’s crying. She cried a lot as a baby.

“No. Not all of them,” I respond.

“We aren’t monsters, you know. We’re people, just like you,” Caitlyn tells me.

“You don’t know anything about me,” I growl at her before hearing a whimpering. I turn and see Powder hiding, holding a small baby bundled in a blanket. The two girls whimper.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” I tell Powder.

“It’s all right. Despite it all, I can tell…you have a good heart,” Cait says, thinking I was talking to her. You have a good heart.

“You’ve got a good heart,” Vander’s voice echoes in my mind as I black out.

3rd POV

Once Jayce managed to find Heimerdinger, he brought the Yordle back to the lab to share his exciting update. Heimerdinger was intrigued until he walked into the lab and saw what it was exactly that Jayce and Viktor were working on. His clear blue eyes widen. Viktor explains that he is calling the main part of Hextech, the Hexcore and explains to Heimerdinger that it’s an adaptive rune matrix. Viktor says that it can evolve and Jayce agrees that it’s groundbreaking and could lead to a cure for Viktor due to the Hexcore reacting to biological matter.

Heimerdinger, however, only sees destruction when looking at the newly evolved Hexcore. The Yordle is old, older than most citizens of Piltover and Zaun and remembers a time of magic. Mages, those that could wield magic, used its destructive capabilities to unleash havoc. Heimerdinger may be old, but he still remembers what happened the first time when someone tried to use magic.

“You must destroy it,” Heimerdinger tells the young inventors.

“What?” They ask incredulously, clearly not expecting that reaction from Heimerdinger.

“Please, if ever you’ve put faith in my guidance, hear me now,” Heimerdinger pleads, “I’ve seen nations destroyed by a single seed and it looked…exactly like this,” he points to the Hexcore.

Jayce argues that the Hexcore, what they’re doing, could save Viktor’s life and once Jayce points that out, Heimerdinger notices that Viktor does appear different. He may still be dying, but it’s not as pronounced as before. After all, Heimerdinger was the one to find Viktor passed out in his lab and take him to the hospital. Viktor, however, feigns innocence and asks what the Yordle means.

Unfortunately it doesn’t take long for Heimerdinger to connect Viktor’s health to the Hexcore and vows to have it destroyed one way or another. He’s so serious that even Heimerdinger’s poro barks in agreement. However, Jayce argues that the Council will decide what to do. Heimerdinger gives his former pupil a sharp look before walking off with his pet.

“I think I might know someone who can help,” Viktor tells Jayce.

“You do what you have to. I need to get ready,” Jayce says, putting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

“For what?” Viktor asks before realizing that Jayce has commitments to the Council if he’s going to talk to them about the Hexcore.

Back down in the Sumps, Cait sighs. Vi needs help and Cait has no medical supplies with her, nor the training to deal with such a deep wound. Seeing as there’s no other option, Cait realizes she must get help and/or medicine herself. Vi’s passed out against the wall. If she leaves now, Cait could be back before Vi wakes back up.

Cait opens the door and doesn’t see any sign of anyone approaching. She turns and shuts the door.

“Is she alright?” A voice startles Cait. She grabs her rifle and aims it at the hooded figure, who yelps, stumbles and falls to the ground.

“Wait-wait-wait! E-E-Easy-Easy. Th-That’s Vi, right?” He stutters as his hood falls. It’s Huck! The man who helped Ekko and Y/N with Benzo’s body the night Vander was taken.

Cait gasps quietly when she sees horrible purple tumors on his head. His glasses are cracked on the lens he needs to see. His other eye is a milky white color, like he’s blind in that eye.

“I’m a friend,” he says and Cait pauses.

“Or at least I was. I mean I…I owed her old man my life. Probably more than that, I guess,” he explains and Cait’s clear blue eyes analyze him.

“She’s bleeding. She needs a doctor,” she says and he laughs nervously.

“Not so simple to come by around here,” he says and moves to stand up.

“Hey!”

“S-Sorry-“ he says and backs up.

“Oh-oh, but ah, I do know someone else who might be able to help. Come with me,” he says, putting his hood back up and walking into the darkness, motioning for Cait to follow. Cait thinks for a second before lowering her rifle and following Huck.

Huck takes her to an apothecary and taps the chimes. A figure approaches inside. Due to the dim lighting and face cover, Cait can’t tell who approaches.

“Ailment?” The voice snarls.

“Oh-uh?” Huck begins but looks to Cait.

“Uh-she’s been stabbed,” Cait explains and the figure shuts the door.

“She makes potions,” Huck explains to Cait, “She helps people with…with this.” He motions to his face and arms.

“Shimmer. Why would you take something that does that to you?” Cait asks.

“I just…wanted to feel what it was like…to be somebody. To make other people afraid,” Huck says. Helping Ekko and Y/N was the last good thing that happened to him if he was being honest. After that…it all went downhill for Huck and for people like him.

The door suddenly opens and the apothecary approaches.

“Trade,” she says, holding a vial on the counter. Cait gasps and when she eyes the vial of potion, the apothecary pulls it closer.

Caitlyn’s POV

“Trade,” the apothecary tells me. When I eye the vial of potion, she pulls it closer. I don’t have any money or anything of value. The only thing I have is-

I look down at my rifle and pop the two bullets in the chamber before folding it up and placing it on the counter, sliding the empty weapon over. Grayson’s voice echoes in my mind. What are you shooting for? Why am I an Enforcer? To help people like Vi. And to help Vi in this moment, I have to give up my gun.

The apothecary looks at me before reaching up to a small vial hanging on her ear. It’s filled with a purple liquid. She uncorks it and makes sure only a single drop of the purple liquid falls into the vial. It glows a sickly purple color before fading. The female takes my weapon and slides the vial out.

“Thank you I really-“ I begin but she slams the door on me. I take the vial of medicine and tuck it into my pocket.

“Let’s go. I think Vi will be happy to see a friendly face,” I say.

“N-n-no, no. Y-you go ahead,” he stammers.

“She knew me when I was still…” he trails off, but I know what he was going to say. When I was still me.

“Anyway, I don’t want her to see me like this. J-Just tell her, uh, tell her I’m sorry. About everything, ok?” He asks and that’s when I envelop the poor mousey man in a hug, clearly catching him off guard but I feel his muscles relax after a second. I can’t thank him enough for helping me as we part ways.

Reader’s POV

Ekko left with Scar and a few others a little while ago. Ekko said I’m supposed to be in charge of everyone and keep them all safe while they’re gone. I want to do what Ekko told me. I want to be the leader he wants…no, the leader he needs me to be but…but I just can’t. That’s not me. Thankfully Kiyi and Senna seem to understand and have stepped in to help when I can’t but luckily nothing is really going on here.

I’m pacing around in front of the mural.

“You gotta relax kid, Ekko’s gonna be back with the others in a little bit,” Kiyi tells me as she adjusts her prosthetic.

“Yeah you’ve seen how great a fighter Ekko is. He can definitely handle himself,” Senna adds and I nod. To be honest that’s not really what I’m worried about. I’m worried that this is my last chance to get to both of my siblings and I’m stuck here.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the small stone I’ve been keeping safe. It’s one of the blue crystals Powder took on the robbery job. She left one behind in the room when Ekko and I went to the Last Drop. I found it and have been keeping it safe ever since. It’s round overall but has jagged edges to it but it’s not sharp. I have to get to them and I have to do it now. I know I can. I shove the stone back into my pocket and look to Kiyi and Senna. Senna notices me first.

“Y/N?” She asks.

“I hafta go,” I say. The two immediately argue and try forcing me to stay but I shake my head.

“I can’t. I…I have to help. They’re my family as much as you guys are. They need me,” I insist. The two share an uneasy look.

“I can do this,” I practically plead. Having lost their own families, I know they understand how I feel. Kiyi sighs and nods.

“Kiyi-“ Senna nudges her.

“She deserves the chance to try. Go,” Kiyi tells me with a nod. I smile and nod back.

“We’ll take care of things here,” she assures me and I nod.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” I almost cry as I hug the two of them.

“But you have to promise us something if we let you go,” Senna says, getting my attention. I look at her.

“At the first sign of danger, you come home, understand? Senna asks and I nod.

“I will,”

“You don’t stop at the Last Drop or even Jericho’s. You come straight home,” she insists and I nod.

“I will Senna,” I repeat but I pause when I see her pull out two crystalline traps. The orange spheres glint in the light as she hands them over to me.

“Take these,” she says and when I try to argue, she insists that if I don’t take them, I can’t go, so I do as I’m told. I shove the orange spheres into my other pocket to keep the gemstone safe. I hurry over to the Sanctuary entrance.

“And Y/N!” Senna calls to me, getting my attention.

“Don’t get yourself killed or I’ll kill you myself!” She calls and I smile, laughing a bit.

“I’ll be careful. And I won’t be long, I promise,” I insist before heading out.

3rd POV

Senna and Kiyi watch as Y/N waves at them and hurries out.

“You really think she can do it?” Kiyi asks. Senna sighs.

“I don’t know. I just know that she deserves the chance to try,” Senna explains and Kiyi nods.

“We should probably get everything straight in case Ekko comes back,” Kiyi suggests and Senna nods. The two know that if anything happens to Y/N, it’s on them since they technically let her go against Ekko’s wishes. But this is personal for them too. You see, Senna and Kiyi were also denied the chance to save their respective families so they empathize with Y/N and her situation.

Back in the Councilor’s room, Jayce is finishing up some last minute paperwork when Marcus walks in behind him and places a grenade next to him. It’s one of Jinx’s grenades. Marcus knows this, but Silco told him to lie to the Councilors. It has the Firelight symbol painted on it but it’s in Jinx’s signature pink and blue colors.

“I found this on one of the Firelights,” Marcus lies to Jayce, “It matches fragments we found outside your lab and at the Hexgates.” That part is not a lie.

“I…have reason to believe they’re planning more attacks,” Marcus says as Jayce picks up the grenade and examines it. He uses his thumb to open the chomping teeth and sees a speaker inside.

“Well, how has this threat gone unnoticed for so long?” Jayce asks.

“Since the Hexgates were completed, the fissures haven’t been a priority,” Marcus says but that’s nothing new. The Undercity has never been a priority for anything but Jayce shakes his head.

“Oh, we’ll settle that later. For now, we need to prevent any further attacks,” Jayce insists.

“Short of searching everyone who crosses the bridges, I don’t know how we can,” Marcus argues calmly.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Jayce tells the Sheriff.

“Are you certain? This sort of an order—“

“Do it. We have to protect the city,” Jayce insists before going back to the paperwork he was working on. Marcus looks at him before turning and walking away. He stops once he gets to the room entrance.

“One other thing. I saw Caitlyn Kiramman had a prisoner released on your order,” Marcus says, causing Jayce’s eyes to widen and he pauses.

“Is there anything I can assist with?” Marcus asks and at first, Jayce doesn’t answer. The young Councilor thinks of what he wants to say before taking a breath.

“No. No, uh, we’ve got it covered,” Jayce says, covering for Caitlyn. He didn’t have time to worry about whatever it was she was doing.

Later all the Councilors have gathered around and are at the circular table. Heimerdinger talks to the others, stating that the new changes to the city have created new challenges and that they must hold each other accountable for their actions, but Jayce questions Heimerdinger and who keeps the Head of the Council accountable. After all, Heimerdinger’s had all these years to fix the problems of the Undercity and they’ve only compounded.

Heimerdinger, thinking Jayce is still upset over what he said about Hextech, tells Jayce that he needs more time, but Jayce argues that humans obviously are not as long-lived as Yordles and that Piltover needs someone that looks to the future, not the past.

Jayce even suggests that Heimerdinger should ‘retire’, though it has to be unanimous. However, thanks to all of Jayce’s connections that he made during the show he saw with Mel, all the councilors seem to be on Jayce’s side.

It all comes down to Jayce and even he hesitates when raising his hand to vote. But he does vote against Heimerdinger, which makes the hurt in the Yordle’s eyes that much more devastating.

Vi’s POV

“Vi,” I hear a voice call to me. My eyes flutter open and at first I see Mom. Mom and Powder and Y/N. Mom’s standing over me, a worried look plastered on her face. Powder is next to her, a bit fuzzy and faded, but I can tell she’s holding a bundled up Y/N. I groan slightly but that’s when I feel something press against my lips. I feel a trickle of liquid pour into my mouth and that’s when pain and adrenaline rush through me so intensely that I jolt upright.

“GAAHH!” I scream but I feel a pair of hands catch me and hold me briefly.

“Easy, easy, easy,” I hear Cupcake say as I whimper slightly. She gently cups my face and looks into my eyes before taking a few steps back.

“We need you back on your feet,” Caitlyn tells me, “what was the name Sevika gave you? Jinx?”

“Right, Jinx, how could I forget?” I ask, mostly to myself as I sit up.

“We’re going to have to be more careful now. Silco will be watching-“ Caitlyn says as she leans against the frame of the house. It rumbles a bit before creaking and moving! Dust falls and Caitlyn’s eyes widen and she backs away, looking up at it before following it down. It’s part of the doorway that Mom would measure mine and Powder’s heights on. Y/N was just a baby back then since Powder was only 6 when the youngest girl was born.

Caitlyn looks down and notices our names and height marks. Faded, but still readable. My full name is there. Violet. Cait looks over and spots a ruined crib along with drawings on the wall Powder did for Y/N to look at as she slept. Fun little sea critters.

“You used to live here?” Caitlyn asks me.

“Who’s Powder?” She asks. I shut my eyes and take a breath.

“My sister. I thought she died, but, no. I have to try and find her. She might know where-“ I explain.

“How do you not know if your sister is alive or dead?” Caitlyn asks me. I wrinkle my nose slightly at her.

“It’s hard to check up on people from inside a concrete cell,” I argue, starting to feel angry.

“What, you don’t have parents?” She asks me.

“No!” I snap angrily.

“They were killed by Enforcers,” I reveal and I see her eyes widen and hear a soft gasp escape her lips. Her eyes soften as she searches my face. She really is a bit naive. A metal clanging sound gets my attention. We’re not alone.

3rd POV

As Vi confronts Silco, Jinx decides to go off on her own, taking the flare Vi gave her as a kid, the night they separated. The night Vander died.

Silco uses Shimmer to lure the addicts around him so Vi decides to take down his neon purple sign with a punch to a weak point in the support beam. The wood cracks and it crashes down. Luckily during the chaos, Vi managed to pull Caitlyn with her and the two escape while Silco is trapped in the rubble. While Vi escapes, Jinx lights the flare, blue smoke matching her tattoos billowing out as she holds it up. Memories of her past haunt the teenager but deep down, she just wants her older sister, believing that Y/N is dead, since she hadn’t seen her younger sister in 3yrs after yelling at her. Anytime Jinx hurts someone they die, why should emotional hurt be any different? Vi is all Jinx believes she has left.

As Vi and Caitlyn escape, Silco angrily beats the body of one of the drug addicts that got crushed before grabbing hold of the man who tries to approach him. Silco hits his head a couple times before shoving him away and screaming angrily.

As Vi and Caitlyn climb up the cliffs, they finally get to the ledge that leads back into the alleyways of the Undercity. Vi leaps and accidentally collides with someone. He yells at her and she flips him off before challenging him. Caitlyn grabs hold of her and pulls Vi enough that Vi turns to see a plume of blue smoke in the distance. Vi’s pale blue eyes widen as Caitlyn pulls her along. Back Topside, at the Bridge, Marcus and the Enforcers set up a barrier to block anyone from just crossing over.

Elsewhere in the Undercity, Y/N follows the path a young Viktor took many years ago to see the doctor. Now, 2 decades later, Viktor returns to Singed, since he’s the person Viktor thought could help with his problem with the Hexcore. Jayce did tell him to do what he needed to.

Instead, Y/N uses the path to follow Ekko. It’s a shortcut and she knows most of the hideout spots going towards the Sumps. The girl manages to hurry down and head towards the chasms when shes spots a streak of green light in the sky to the left instead. She follows where it’s going and that’s when she also sees a plume of blue smoke rising in the air. Her eyes widen.

“Jinx!” Y/N gasps and hurries as fast as she can. She runs down an alley, sliding under a pipe before taking a staircase going up. Just have to keep going up.

The girl’s breathing turns labored and ragged. She coughs a bit and feels her lungs start to constrict and forces the girl to slow down. Y/N looks and spots an abandoned motorized bicycle. She climbs on and turns the motor on with a switch. It starts going and it goes even faster when the girl starts pedaling. Y/N finds herself smiling since the feeling reminds her of riding with Ekko and Powder on his Wheel, only this time, Y/N gets to steer.

It takes a bit but Y/N manages to figure out how to just glance up for the smoke and keep her eyes on the path in front of her, making sure not to run into anyone. The girl rides for quiet a bit before needing to make a sharp turn, nearly scraping the handle on the building and gets to a staircase.

“Shit,” Y/N says and ditches the bike and runs up the stairs. Once she comes to the top of the staircase, she sees a figure standing on a rooftop in the distance, holding the flare! It’s where the blue smoke is coming from! Y/N’s eyes widen. She has to get over there!

Back at the Last Drop, Silco returns to his office and sits down in his chair, sighing.

“How many problems can one girl cause?” Silco asks about Vi to himself. He glances at his desk and that’s when he sees the knife piercing the desk. He sees the blue line of color on it forming an arrow pointing up. Silco looks up and that’s when he sees Sevika tied up, hanging from the ceiling unconscious and covered in pink and blue paint. The word LIAR is written all over the woman’s body along with graffiti glasses and mustache on her face.

A crow lands nearby as Jinx holds still. She can hear the hiss of smoke start to lessen. As the flare runs out Jinx growls angrily before throwing the flare as hard as she can. The metal hilt disappears into the fog as she pants slightly. Jinx takes out the stolen gemstone and she glares at it before gripping the stone tighter.

“Powder?” Jinx hears a familiar voice. She turns around slowly and through the mist, Jinx spots Vi.

“Vi?” Jinx asks and Vi lets tears form in her eyes.

“Oh Powder!” Vi gasps and races forward and scoops her younger sister in a hug. Jinx is so caught off guard that she drops the gemstone. The crow caws. Both sisters are unaware that another approaches. A pair of eyes watches the two hug. It’s Y/N! She finally found her sisters! It’s really them!

Jinx’s vision blurs and tears start to spill out before she cries and clings to Vi, hugging the older woman back, sobbing quietly. Vi puts a loving hand on Jinx’s cheek.

“I-I’m so sorry Powder. I tried to come back. I promise, I did. But I…I got arrested,” Vi explains. Jinx’s eyes widen.

“Marcus?” She asks.

“I don’t know. I…It doesn’t matter. I just…I never thought I’d see you again,” Vi says, her face also streaming with tears before hugging Jinx again. This time, Jinx doesn’t hug back. Instead she glances at Vi sadly, a worried look plastered on her face.

“Are you real?” Jinx whimpers.

Vi pulls away but keeps a hand on her tattooed shoulder.

“Yes, of course. It’s me, Vi, your sister. I’m here-I-I’m right here,” Vi assures the younger blue-haired girl.

“Things changed when you left. I changed,” Jinx sobs.

“I know, Pow-pow, I know. You did what you had to do to survive,” Vi says, putting a hand on Jinx’s cheek lovingly. Vi takes a breath.

“Me too. It’s ok. What matters is we’re together,” Vi says, hugging Jinx once more.

After a moment passes, Vi pulls back.

“W-What about Y/N? Where is she?” Vi asks. Jinx flinches at the name.

“Y-Y/N? No…No-no-no-she’s…because of me—she’s dead-she’s dead-“ Jinx says and Vi’s eyes widen.

“W-What? What are you talking about Powder? That’s not true-“ Vi tries. Y/N is about to reveal herself but that’s when she hears footsteps approaching. The girl hides as Caitlyn races by, not even noticing the girl.

Caitlyn slows to a stop when she sees Vi and Jinx talking. Jinx immediately pulls away and grabs her gatling gun and aims it at the Enforcer.

“Who is she?” Jinx asks.

“Who’re you?” Caitlyn asks. The crow caws.

“It’s ok, she’s a friend,” Vi explains. Jinx glares at Vi.

“Sevika wasn’t lying? You’re with an Enforcer?” Jinx asks, taking a step away from Vi. Jinx’s boot knocks the gemstone slightly and Caitlyn notices the gem. That’s when the puzzle completes itself for her.

“Your sister is Jinx?” Caitlyn asks Vi.

“Caitlyn just listen—we can work this out-“ Vi tries to deescalate the situation.

“This is a trick! You’re playing me!” Jinx says, getting everyone’s attention.

“SHUT UP! I’m in no mood!” Jinx snaps angrily at Mylo’s voice.

“We didn’t say anything,” Caitlyn says.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Jinx snaps and points her gatling at Caitlyn.

“Powder! It’s ok-“ Vi insists, stepping in between the gun and Caitlyn.

“Stop calling me that!” Jinx barks, “It’s Jinx now! Powder fell down a well!” she growls.

“You’re not a Jinx. God I never should’ve-“ Vi tries apologizing but Jinx shoves her giant gun in Vi’s face. The older sister holds her hands up.

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child! Was that why you came? For this stupid stone?” Jinx asks, fearing Silco is right.

“No, I don’t even know what that is, I-“ Vi tries but Jinx chuckles humorlessly.

“You’re a class act, Sister. Sister thought I missed her, bet you wouldn’t miss her,” Jinx taunts to the gun, pulling the barrel rotator so it starts up. All Jinx would need to do would be to pull the trigger.

“Powder! I’m here for you. Only you. You can fire that thing if you want but I’m not going anywhere! I’m not going to abandon you again,” Vi insists, pushing the gun away, taking a few steps forward so she can put a gentle hand on Jinx’s tattooed bicep. The touch almost ignites the voices in Jinx’s head.

“Everyone shut up! I need to think!” Jinx snaps, jerking her head to the side. The sudden outburst makes Vi flinch back, removing her hand as she stares worriedly at Jinx.

A far away metallic noise gets Y/N’s attention. She glances back and that’s when she realizes it’s Ekko and the others! Oh no.

“Did you hear that?” Jinx asks, looking around, also hearing the noise. However, Vi and Caitlyn merely look around, not having heard anything.

Y/N watches the pipes across the way and sees a green light on the inside. It gets brighter and that’s when a figure zips out on a hoverboard! It’s Ekko! Y/N tucks herself into her hiding spot, behind a stack of crates. Ekko and the other Firelights fly out and Jinx immediately starts firing. Vi readies herself while Caitlyn ducks out of the way of an incoming Firelight. She looks over and spots the stolen gemstone on the ground. Vi looks at Powder before assessing the situation. Y/N shuts her eyes and covers her head, the trauma of what happened all those years ago coming rushing back to her. The fear, it makes the young girl freeze up.

Scar, Ekko’s right hand, dodges Jinx’s bullets and manages to get close to her. He flies around her but gets caught by Vi’s fist, knocking him off his board. Another Firelight flies in, swinging a metallic spear, forcing Vi to duck out of the way. Jinx fires, accidentally hitting the gemstone. Luckily it’s the stable kind and it merely bounces around. Caitlyn glances around and spots it. One of the firelights flies back enough to be able to turn around and charge, but Jinx manages to swing her gatling at him, knocking him off his board. She pulls out her pistol and aims it but another Firelight comes in to get Jinx’s attention. She shifts focus and aims at him, firing a crystalline trap at his board. He flies through, shattering it. Jinx dodges out of the way and manages to clip a grenade to the back of the board, pulling the pin as he flies away. He spots the grenade in time and manages to jump off the board. It swerves a bit before exploding. The Firelight falls before being caught by Ekko.

The gemstone rolls, hitting Vi’s foot and falls off the side but luckily Caitlyn reaches out and catches it. Vi grabs Scar and hits him with a quick combo while Jinx deals with the Firelights still on their hoverboards. Jinx fires all around and Vi sees purple bullets whizz by. The fighter uses her arms to cover her head before spotting Jinx spray her gunfire, laughing. Vi’s eyes widen a bit but she can’t dwell on the change she saw in Powder as she nearly gets swiped by an uppercut from Scar.

Vi steps back and dodges. Caitlyn hides and peers out, not spotting the Firelight near her. She steps out but immediately gets hit so hard she blacks out. Her hand loosens around the gemstone and the Firelight spots it, tilting his head at it, clearly wondering what it is. He manages to take it before putting out a smoke cover to kidnap the Enforcer.

The smoke gets Jinx’s attention and the girl realizes the gemstone is also gone. She aims her Pow-pow gun but the smoke disappears and there’s nothing. A Firelight tries attacking from above but Jinx is ready and merely moves to the side before kicking the gang member and hitting him with her massive gatling. He grunts, falling back as Vi hits Scar with another combo, knocking him down. Vi takes a breath and rubs her mouth before looking over at Jinx.

She uses her weapon to hit with rather than to shoot with and the brutality causes Vi’s eyes to widen.

“Powder,” Vi gasps, not noticing Scar come to behind her. A Firelight flies by and Jinx dodges. She fires at him, hitting his hoverboard, causing it to smoke and he has to abandon it. He runs to avoid the bullets and jumps off the edge to be caught by another Firelight.

“Powder!” Vi exclaims, about to rush towards her younger sister, but Scar blindsides her, hitting her with his staff, knocking her out cold. Vi’s limp body thumps to the ground.

Distracted, Jinx doesn’t notice the downed Firelight about to attack. His blade slices her leg and she yelps in pain.

“GAAAH!” She cries out before glaring down at him. She hits him with her gun and he falls to the ground, his mask partly shattered. Y/N peers out when she hears Jinx’s cry of pain and her eyes widen when the kid sees Jinx is hurt.

Jinx inspects her wound before aiming at the Firelight’s head. The barrel rotates. Scar winds up with his spear, about to pierce Vi’s body when Ekko comes up and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Take her,” Ekko orders. Out of the corner of her eye, Jinx sees the Firelights pick Vi up. She turns and sees Vi slung over one’s back. Jinx breathes hard looking between the Firelight and Vi. Her lower lip quivers.

“RAAAUUUGHH!!” Jinx yells, rushing forward as Ekko creates a smokescreen, allowing them to escape with Vi.

The smoke disappears and Jinx looks around, all alone. She breathes hard.

“Vi?” Jinx whimpers emotionally.

“NOOOO!!!!!” Jinx screams. Part of her wonders if it’s even real.

End.

[nellynee]

Open season huskerdust fic concepts cause I'll certainly never write them (use as you like but lmk if you write I'll gobble that shit up!)

A Peggy Sue (character goes back in time with knowledge of future events) Husker fic. Key points include things like

Husk building an Overlord Au empire. His vice is gambling and he's pretty lazy, so the original version who sold himself to Alastor simply amassed personal power and riches he could gamble and coasted on fame but didnt build infrastructure. He does so the second time to give himself a power base he *can* safely gamble with and a potential safe space for Angel. In other words, canon overlord Husk was a singular gambler, au Husk builds an empire out of spite.

Husk and Val drop into hell at about the same time. If Husk goes after Angel right away then this is still early stage Val who's charismatic and sweet and gives Angel any drug he pleases. Angel is the old blood here.

Say it with me folks. Husk would let Angel do sex work! Angel likes it and Husk isnt the jelous type!

Husk genuinely contemplates just sitting back and letting Angel be until he regrets Val's deal because like he's hasn't hits that self reflection and isnt the same Angel yet and Husk can't force him and not be an asshole and OG Angel wouldnt apreciate being babied like this but on the other hand he could save Angel a few lifetimes of suffering. Maybe he'll loose a game and a pretty valuable angelic weapon to Angel to give him a way out when he needs it (that would be such a bittersweet ending!)

Husk still ends up betting his soul to Alastor. Not because of outside tension but becaue of his own vices and moral failings. Husk doesn't sing about his drinking or laziness in looser baby it's his gambling addiction. He knows it's a bad idea. He always swore *if he could only go back*. But *what if he wins?*

2. Soft porno AU. In the wake of Ozzie declaring his love for Fizzie, there's been a small, but noticiable and steadily climbing, trend of demand for softcore schmaltzy porno. Starting with the hellborn, but its infecting the pride ring sinners too. *then it turns out someone witness and recorded looser baby*. Now theres a pretty loud conversation about Angel's apparent secret soft daddy, and demand is going from annoying to picking at sales numbers and it's not going away.

Val *haaaaaaaates* this. Like. From a moral standpoint. He's into corruption and pain and non con and fucking up nice things. He's literally gagging, and maybe even seething inside because he might not want it with Angel but not being able to have it irks him

Angel and Husk are in fact not sleeping together (but want to)

Husk suddenly gets horny fans. He's not a fox hes a cat damn it. What the fuck is a grungy daddy. ANGEL STOP LAUGHING

Angel starts getting soft flirting as pick up lines and it's legit uncomfy as fuck for him

Val tries to make soft boy porn to various degrees with various people and not only does it suck he's actually throwing up in his mouth

Val: look, just fuck my bitch (who I know you are already fucking you cunt) in front of a camera while looking in his eyes and I will give you so much money. Husk: my contract literally forwards all my worldly possessions to Al that means nothing to me Val: *chews his own arm off*

Val: hey can I use your soul for a movie I'll give you money and women. Alastor: *pissing himself with uncomfortable laughter* Val: men?....

Husker: how about we play a little game. Every time you win I'll make a little film with Angel. But if I win you gimmie something I want

(Bonus if he loses some to escalete stakes up to souls. Double bonus to finding a work around to Al owning Angel. My top picks are Charlie being so aggressively thankful to Al helping to free Angel that he's peer pressured into releasing the contract, or Angel being so aggressively suggestive on what his contract is for that Al would rather break his chains than deal with that)

Alternate of above. Husk and Angel make unintentionally silly and loving amateur porn that just reeks of akward sentimentality. There's giggling and tickling and bad jokes and like *kissing* and bad angles and it's kinda terrible and wonderful and takes the internet by storm. It's on Angel's personal harddrive but that all technically belongs to Val per contract. In same spirit as above.

(Bonus round. If you dont understand poker, don't use is as a two person game.It's possible, but two person poker is a very unique beast. Poker is about the read. Early hands are used to get beads on people and judge attitudes and trends. Between two people, you end up folding +90% of hands until you have something. If you bet, the other person is judging you bluff, and they most the time fold. It's boring as fuck.

Husk's Overlord flashback sugests he and Alastor were playing Old Maid, a game still better with more people, but perfectly possible with two. Honestly one much easier to learn, easier to build tension with, and much better thematically for these kinds of stories. STOP USING POKER FOR INTENSE MOMENTS IF YOU DONT PLAY

Honestly two person poker would be a better game for Husk and Angel, as it gives space to bullshit between a dozen shit hands and folded bluffs as pots swing back and forth. Willingly building a pot and tricking someone into taking it is a pretty hard gamble to take ya know?)

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Fledging

Cool Dad was at the school gate again. Clambering out of his ridiculous sports car like a great big spider, all black denim and designer sunglasses. What a prat. He made his way towards the entrance, followed by his equally lanky son. All the mums' eyes were on him. Which was fine. At least they weren't staring at Aziraphale for a change. Cool Dad high-fived his son goodbye, because of course he did, then sauntered back to his car. Making it look so bloody easy. Aziraphale Fell is much too young to be looking after eleven-year old Pepper. He barely has his life together as it is, with his minimum-wage job and a half-baked dream of trading rare books for a living. And as if adopting a recently bereaved pre-teen isn’t enough, there are some rather more adult problems to navigate: playground politics, the shadows of his own childhood, and the growing question of how Crowley, the only other dad at the school gate, feels about him.

Length: 53,381 Words

AO3 Rating: Mature/ Spice Level 🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Parent, Slow Burn

Triggers: Grief

Read it here, fic by FeralTuxedo

*Minor Spoilers* I've read this one twice now, and I was thrilled to find that not only did all the details from the first read stick with me, but that familiarity helped me connect even more the second time around. It's an excellent story of family, and both the burden and joy of responsibility.

Aziraphale has worked hard to build a struggling, but free, life for himself at 24 after leaving his family, but everything gets turned upside down when his estranged sister suddenly dies, and he takes in his niece, Pepper. Enter "Cool Dad" Crowley, father to Adam, who notices Aziraphale's struggle and offers a helping hand. This setup is unique and intriguing, and I'm such a sucker for the parent/adoption trope. Aziraphale didn't want Pepper, and she didn't want him. But the journey of them learning to trust each other, finding their places, and loving each other like a true family? Yeah, I'm a sucker for that narrative.

I'm also a sucker for the slow burn between these two young parents, finding support and friendship in each other. There's instant chemistry, but it's the quiet kind that promises a lifetime of domestic bliss. It's a bumpy road to get there, though. Past mistakes and bad parenting choices block their path, and they'll have to learn to fix their mistakes to make a life together. It's not an easy journey, Crowley needs to right his wrongs but Aziraphale also needs to step up to his responsibility to Pepper.

There are two sexual scenes but they are quick and non explicit so you're totally fine to read this in public! There's lots of love and joy to be found here, but also some slight angst and contemplative moments. Makes for a wonderful lazy day read.

Read it here, fic by FeralTuxedo

[ghastlybin]

Past life! AU ➫ Mina

Happy Mina day!! Trying to participate on some of these birthdays but y’all know I’m always late lol.

▾

▾Past life! AU ▾ Soulmate! AU? ▾ Mina x GN reader ▾ Fluff ▾ Maybe 2% angst if you wanna get technical. ▾ Death implication? ▾ Very brief mentions of different periods of time ▾ It’s meant to be short as symbolization of there never being enough time. ▾ HAPPY MINA DAY ♡ ▾

▾

W.C ▾ 1.3K

Synopsis ▾ Everyone forgets their memories when they die. You’re the only one who remembers everything, including your soulmate, Mina.

“I remember you.”

“Huh?”

Mina had a questioning look on her face. You already knew her, but she was meeting you for the first time in *her* life.

Eight lifetimes passed by and every time you’ve met Mina, whether it was at the market inside of a kingdom, during the war, or on campus at the college of your dreams.

“Ah, nothing… I’m sorry!” You cringed, hurrying off and leaving Mina in more confusion than before.

Everyone is supposed to forget their memories of their lives lived upon death.

For some reason, you never did.

You lived day by day and lifetime by lifetime with every single memory you made in your previous lives.

The first time you met Mina was in a forest a month before you died, and she was a runaway princess from a kingdom nearby.

Even in that short amount of time spent with her, you knew she was the one.

Time and time again, it was proven that she was your soulmate.

▾

For months, Mina thought about you and what you said.

“I remember you.”

She wondered who you were or what you meant. She wondered why she felt familiar with that phrase.

She wondered where she had heard that before.

Mina returned to the place you spoke to her and hoped you would return too.

After an hour of sitting at the bench and scanning the crowd, you returned just as fate planned.

Mina shot up and jogged towards you. At first, you didn’t notice her but as she came closer, you stopped in your tracks until she was standing a few feet in front of you.

“Do you still remember me?” She asked with unintentional desperation in her voice.

“Yes.” You answered. “I didn’t mean to weird you out or confuse you back then.”

“No, don’t worry. I’ve been wondering where you know me from?” Mina asked. You contemplated whether to tell her everything or just start over and introduce yourself as you have been since your second lifetime.

Whichever you chose to do, you were destined to be with her. She was your soulmate and you were hers.

In the end, you told her everything. How you knew her ever since your first life on this earth up until now.

It was the first time you were completely honest with her. And of course, Mina didn’t believe you.

“Prove it to me.” She walked with you, side by side. Even though she didn’t initially believe you, she couldn’t ignore the connection she felt with you.

“Your name is Mina, you’re an introvert— You’ve never been the first to speak before today, I think you’re funny, and are your favorite colors still purple and indigo?”

Mina was quiet for a moment, unsure what to say but she believed you then.

It took her only a minute to find the same love she had for you in her past life, but for you, it never left. The thing about life is that there is never enough time.

In the time you were given to each other in each life, you learned more about her than you knew previously.

For her, she was barely learning about you, over and over again.

And every time, she loved you more than she did in her previous life. More than she would ever know.

▾

You two were pretty much inseparable from that point moving forward. Everything that could be done together, was done together and anything that happened without the other would be spoken of later on that evening.

Your love for each other was apparent in each waking moment. Most of the people around you knew you were meant for each other, while others didn’t get it. How two people could love each other so much.

How would you explain it? That love was the motivation you had knowing you had finally reunited with your one and only or how love was the laugh that came after a joke that you knew wasn’t funny. The smile that would greet you every morning or the small details remembered that have previously gone unnoticed.

Everyone had their own definition of love. It was something that didn’t have a single meaning.

It meant more than a simple, ‘I love you.’

As the years went by, you could feel the end of yet another lifetime coming to an end, and you were always the first to pass on.

As always, you felt grateful for how long you had with her in this life. And yet, you were bitter that there wasn’t enough time with her.

“I will remember you in our next life.” Mina said with such sincerity that you almost believed her.

You wanted to, at least. But you knew that wasn’t how it worked.

Everyone was supposed to forget their memories at death.

Mina wasn’t an exception. You weren’t sure why you were an exception.

“I will love you more in our next life.” You remarked. Mina smiled, sitting on a chair at your bedside, squeezing out every last second she had with you.

“I know you will.” Her voice cracked as the lump in her throat grew with each second you were closer to the end.

“I promise I will find you.” You told her, trying to offer any form of reassurance. You just didn’t want her to be afraid. Despite it all, Mina believed you.

Even though it wasn’t the end, it was for this lifetime.

“…I know you will.” She repeated through bittersweet tears. You held her hand with a tight grip that slowly loosened as your time in this life ended.

“I love you.”

▾

You walked through the city as flying cars zoomed past you on their way to their destinations.

Technology had pretty much made up everything in the year of 3016 and everyone— Who hadn’t gone completely off grid— had an online presence.

And there you were, looking for her in yet another lifetime.

Myoui Mina.

You held your phone in your hand, looking at every building sign. While it felt weird looking at her location tag, a promise was a promise.

After walking for about twenty more minutes, you realized Mina wasn’t at the café you’ve been looking for anymore and was on the move just as you were.

The problem was that her location outside of public buildings wasn‘t on display.

You put your phone away and sighed, hoping to find her in the crowd. Surely, she couldn’t have gone far. Her location tag said she left the café about five minutes ago.

You stood outside of the café with a frown, thinking that maybe it wasn’t your time to meet her yet. You had waited years of navigating the future and keeping track of the evolution of technology until you were able to freely look for Mina— Wherever she was.

You walked away from the café and decided to go on with your day. Maybe another day, you told yourself.

Part of you wished you could just message her instead of stalking her location tags. You wished technology had the persons social media attached automatically.

Mina never updated her public profile when she first entered the digital world. You didn’t blame her though. You’d only just figured it out, still used to the old world.

You scanned the crowd in front of you as you passed by. There she was. As beautiful as ever and in her own world, sitting on a bench at the bus stop.

You recollected yourself in your excitement as you saw the bus approaching— and fast.

You didn’t want to miss your chance and soon, both feet were planted on the road. One foot in front of the other, you sprinted across the street towards her.

Luckily, you made it across without incident and you were standing a few feet away from Mina.

Your soulmate.

And she was staring at you too. Only in this lifetime, she was smiling at you with an all too familiar fondness rather than the initial confused look.

“I remember you.”

With a relieved breath, you grinned, stepping closer to her before she threw her arms around you.

“Finally.”

[basketballanonsblog]

Happy birthday, Jihyo! The efforts you always put in all that you do are admiralable. Thank you for being the best leader. You're the glue that helps TWICE stick together 🎊🧡

I can't believe it's been a year since I wrote this for her birthday and @zyonamourolls

I'll be posting the rest of this AU over the next couple of weeks

Synopsis: After a lifetime of waiting, you finally found her again. (TW: slight violence and brief mention of blood. Flashbacks are in italics)

Finally found

"Get away from her!" Jihyo stood in between the man and woman whom he decided to target.

"Well, look what we have here, a mighty hero. You shouldn't interfere in things that don't concern you."

He tried to get to the other woman, but Jihyo fought him.

Where are you, my love? I need you.

"Run. Now!" She urged the other, who did what she was told. Before she could notice, he had pulled out a knife, gravely injuring her.

That was his first and last mistake.

The sky rumbled and flashed with thunder and lightning.

"Jihyo!"

The man was suddenly grabbed from behind and thrown against the wall with great force, knocking him unconscious. You'd deal with him later.

"No, no, no."

You rushed to her, bringing Jihyo as close as possible without aggravating her wound. Inspecting and putting pressure on it, you knew it was fatal based on the amount of blood she was losing.

"I'm here now, love. I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner. I'm going to get you help." You got ready to fly, but she weakly grasped your arm.

"I'm not going to make it, y/n."

"Don't say that. It's not too late." Your voice quivered, but she smiled at you.

"Shhh. It's okay, y/n. Our time together in this lifetime may have been cut short, but I know you'll find me again in the next."

Jihyo kissed you before wiping your tears as best she can.

"I love you, my angel."

"I love you."

She continued smiling as her eyes fluttered shut and she went limp.

"Jihyo?...Jihyo!"

No response.

You desperately sobbed, gently rocking her body.

"No, please, please. Please. Come back to me, don't leave me."

The heavens opened, but you shielded her with your wings. The unrelenting rainfall coincides with your grief and tears.

~◇~

Jihyo shot upright in a sweat, trying to catch her breath. She's been having quick snippets of the same dream almost every night. But this, this was more vivid.

"So much for not waking up early on my day off." She mumbled to herself as she walked into the kitchen, which contained one occupant.

"You had that dream didn’t you?" Mina was the only one she had told, only because she had overheard Jihyo talking in her sleep.

"Yeah. But this time it was different, more detailed." She explained her dream, and Mina looked pensive at the end of it.

"What's your opinion on the theory of being reborn?"

"Huh?"

"You know, people contemplate whether or not soulmates and reincarnation exist. Based on the amount of detail, maybe this dream is from a past life of yours."

Jihyo looked at her, bewildered.

"Yeah um I think you might have been watching too many romance dramas...or too busy pining over Chaeyoung."

"Unnie!"

~◇~

Trudging through your apartment, you collapsed onto your bed. Another shift at the hospital was completed. Being the chief obstetrician brought feelings of purpose, and it was rewarding, helping life come into the world; but it could be exhausting. Especially when complications arise.

You considered whether to go flying around for fresh air. At the thought, your wings sprung out, but in the end, you decided to have a nap.

"Sorry." Your wings tucked themselves back in as you closed your eyes.

Not even half an hour after falling asleep, you were abruptly woken by the sound of music blasting throughout the place. Considering that you lived alone, you knew who it was.

Curse your sibling.

You stormed to the living room, yelling.

"Lucifer! Can you please turn -" You went from irritated to breathless at the sound of a familiar yet foreign voice. A voice you hadn't heard in nearly a century.

"Who- who is that?"

"They're TWICE, a K-pop group."

"The one singing a moment ago, what's her name?"

"Oh, that's the leader, Park Jihyo."

You had to sit down before your legs gave in. The shock was so great that Lucifer had to shout your name a number of times in order for you to snap out of it.

"Brother. It's her."

He stared at you, confused, until his eyes widened as it clicked.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go to her!"

"Yeah, because they're just going to let me waltz in and talk to a famous idol." You quipped sarcastically.

He thought for a moment before looking cheerful.

"Leave it with me, sis. I'll handle it."

He threw you a wink, making you grimace. Things with Lucifer can go haywire but at this point, you'd try almost anything.

-×-

Another day, another shift. You were getting ready to help one of your patients until...

"Y/n!" Lucifer appeared beside you, with a stupid grin on his face.

"Oh for the love of- what the hell are you doing here?"

"Can't a guy visit his sister?"

"Not at work, especially when she's prepping to deliver a baby." You walked away, but he grabbed your arm.

"Wait. At least hear me out."

"Fine. Ten seconds, go."

"I got us tickets to see TWICE, and I managed to charm the staff to let us meet the members. You can reunite with her, y/n."

"I..."

So many emotions swirled within. You almost cried then and there. You were fortunate to have a sibling like him. Not that you would ever say it out loud. His ego was already big enough.

"You could've at least waited until I got home to drop this bombshell. Goodness knows you barge into my apartment whenever you damn well, please."

Walking away once more, your heart was racing. Lucifer just found it hilarious.

"You're welcome, sis!"

~◇~

The concert began not long after you had sat down but you were still restless.

Until you saw Jihyo.

Oh, how you had missed her. How you managed to wait this long, you'd never know.

"Are you okay?" Lucifer whispered.

"I'm fine."

"But you're crying." Huh. You didn't even realise.

"It's just a lot to process right now, but I promise I'm alright." No further words were exchanged; not that you could talk anyway. Especially when you kept your eyes on Jihyo the entire time.

You never did stop crying throughout the concert.

Seeing her so energetic, finding joy and happiness in performing with the members. That's all you wanted for her, to find passion in life.

On Jihyo's side, there was something different in the air tonight, besides the usual bursts of excitement they get. She felt compelled to keep looking at a certain section of the audience but could not figure out why.

Almost as if she was being drawn in.

The thought kept nagging in the back of her head, but was brushed away because in the blink of an eye, the concert was over.

~◇~

The members waited patiently for the people who their manager said had wanted to meet them.

Lucifer walked in alone, greeting them respectfully.

"Hello, I'm Lucifer. I'm here with my sister, who should be here soon."

You had gone to the bathroom to freshen up before you reunited with the love of your life. So your brother covered for you, making small talk to pass the time.

But you were taking too long, and idols could only give so much of their time. Their manager informed them it was time to go.

"No, wait! Please, my sister has been waiting for so long to meet you. I'll get her."

"Fine. Five minutes." He bolted out of the room, searching.

Lucifer found you curled up, outside the bathroom. As your younger brother, he always looked up to you; for him, it was unnerving seeing you look so... small.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" He sat beside you.

"Lucifer. I can't do it. How can I face her after what happened? I know she doesn't remember, but I don't deserve to meet her again. Jihyo is better off without me."

"No." He looked at you seriously, with a frown.

"What?"

"Don't make that decision for her. She made her choices back then, so let her make the choice now, whether or not she wants you in her life."

He gave you his handkerchief to dry your eyes.

"I know the past still hurts you. But don't let it make you so afraid that you would let her slip away again. Having another chance like this is nothing short of a miracle. Don't waste it."

You looked to him in awe.

"Who knew the devil could be so wise?"

Lucifer smirked and shrugged, then stood, offering a hand to pull you up.

"So what's it gonna be, y/n?"

~x~

Their manager glanced at her watch, sighing.

"We need to go." They all got ready to leave when the door abruptly slammed open; you and Lucifer stormed in, out of breath from running there.

"We're here!"

Jihyo's jaw dropped. It's you. The girl from her dreams.

You bowed, half in greeting and half in apology.

"Hi everyone! Forgive me for making you wait. I'm - "

"Y/n." She finished your sentence before she could stop herself.

Everyone including you, looked at Jihyo in shock and making her flustered.

"You know her, unnie?" Tzuyu asked.

"No, but -"

"How did you know her name?" Dahyun chimed in this time.

"Well..." How was she going to explain to her members that she's been dreaming of this stranger, that your name was engraved in her heart and mind.

That you were the person she's been unknowingly yearning for for months.

"Lucky guess, I suppose! People always say I look like a y/n." Not really, but you didn't want her to feel embarrassed.

Jihyo looked at you with relieved gratitude, and you smiled shyly in return.

She stepped forward, offering a hand shake, which you gladly accepted.

"Hello y/n."

"Hello Jihyo."

And as for you, your lost and troubled heart was finally at ease; for it had found its way back home.

~◇~

"You have some nerve asking me that. Especially after what you've done." You stood, drenched from the rain, bruises and minute traces of blood on your knuckles, before God himself, your father.

Pleading with him to bring Jihyo back.

"This is an outlandish request, even for you y/n. You are not the first or last person to lose someone. I can not outright bend the rules for you, regardless of the fact you are my child."

Your hands clenched, tears flowing while you dropped to your knees, head bowed.

"Then turn me human." You begged.

"Excuse me, you want me to what?"

"Turn me human. Everything is meaningless without her."

"You would really give up your birthright for her?"

"Yes." You answered too quickly for your father's liking. The way he stormed off was evidence of this.

But you stopped caring the moment you lost her.

He had returned a few hours later, much calmer after talking with your mother about the situation. Although, he didn't expect you to still be kneeling where he left you.

He mimicked you, going down to your level, that you may talk face to face.

"This human, she means that much to you?" He asked gently. You nodded tiredly.

"Father, I love her. I do not wish to live in a world where she doesn't exist."

He had never heard you sound so broken. Even if he had high expectations for you, you were still his firstborn. What kind of parent would want to see their child in pain?

He sighed in defeat and conceded, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Okay."

~x~

You sat in front of her gravestone, fingers tracing the surface, where Jihyo's name was carved.

"Sorry I'm late, my love, Lucifer keeps dragging me into his outlandish schemes. He says it's because I'm the only sibling willing to put up with his antics, but I think he's just trying to cheer me up. He won't admit it, though, stubborn man. He would've liked you, I wish I didn't wait to introduce you. It was me being selfish and wanting to keep you far away from the dysfunctional circus that is my family."

You laughed almost bitterly while wiping your eyes.

"I miss you Jihyo, but please wait for me amor. Even if I have to spend the entirety of my existence looking, you have my word that in another life, I will find you again."

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

E Rated Fics Masterlist (30)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19 / Part 20 / Part 21 / Part 22 / Part 23 / Part 24 / Part 25 / Part 26 / Part 27 / Part 28 / Part 29 /

Created: January 7th, 2024

Last Checked:-----

Better Life-Pookieh (ao3) Summary: They say life in a small town is so much sweeter, but for Peeta Mellark, it was more bittersweet than anything. Especially when that small town life was the reason the only girl he'd ever loved had stayed away. But now Katniss Everdeen is back, along with a secret that's sure to flip the world as he knows it upside down. If he can only convince her to give him a chance, he'll prove that their small town was exactly where she belongs. Everlark Modern Day AU. Cover art by Loving-Mellark.

Flying Solo-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: When Katniss Everdeen's best friend Jo bails on their trip to Mexico at the last minute, an angry Katniss expects to spend her first-ever vacation all alone. That is, until she sees a familiar pair of blue eyes on the flight to Cancun.

Katniss Gets Kisses-thesweetnessofspring (ao3) Summary: Three months left until the Quarter Quell, and Katniss wants to spend as much as she can of it with Peeta. With no expectations to live past the Quell, she can let herself explore intimacy she could never even contemplate before.

Lost and Found-Peetabreadgirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen takes a much needed break from life on a deserted island, where she comes across the hidden treasure of a lifetime. Tarzan!Peeta request by Mega-aulover on Tumblr.

Match Play-Diana_Flynn (ao3) Summary: There is nothing like a disastrous double date to make you realize what you don’t want and who you really want. For Katniss Everdeen that was realizing that all she ever wanted was right in front of her all along - her co-worker Peeta Mellark. She’s just afraid she may be too late.

Mockingjay Inn-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta are both frequent pop-in guests at an out-of-the-way B&B. One weekend, it is surprisingly booked up and the manager asks if they can share a suite in an effort to be less of an inconvenience for such loyal customers and since they sort of know each other.

Pearl Moon Saloon-DandelionSunset (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen has worked as a bartender at Pearl Moon Saloon for three and a half years. It’s a pretty routine job until she becomes intrigued by a mysterious, handsome, and strangely familiar blond man who starts coming in every night. -one-shot-

The Bottom Of Effie's Purse-LemonLuvGirl (ao3) Summary: A collection of ficlets, drabbles, PWP smut scenes, and lint dragged up from the unfathomable depths of Effie's giant purse.

The One-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: Peeta is Katniss’s best friend and almost everything in her life revolves around him. When thoughts of Peeta start invading her dreams, Katniss must decide whether just being friends is enough. Written for Prompt 50 of the Everlark Fic Exchange, Springtime Edition.

To Seduce a Prince-muttpeeta (tumblr) Summary: Follow up to Royal Blind Date: Katniss was about to have sex in a castle.