#thing that defines the tone for the rest of the series

[lemongogo]

cant even lie to u tbh i think wolfwood broke in2 my top chara list bye

[dksfml]

Love 119 [Part Three]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part one] [part two]

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is just doing his duties, suggestive, submissive jungwon, fluff (only in the start lol) summary: you celebrate your first anniversary with jungwon’s mouth on another woman, so you remind him what yours tastes like. word count: 7.4k author's note: the third part of this seriess!! i swear it's just getting freakier and longer every after part. i hope you enjoy this one! reply or request if you want to be part of the taglist<333

You stir awake, the haze of sleep still clinging to you like a warm blanket. The soft morning light filters through the blinds, painting streaks of gold across the sheets. Your body feels heavy, a pleasant exhaustion lingering from the chaos of yesterday’s shift—and maybe something more.

As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is Jungwon. He’s lying on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his head to prop himself up. His bare torso is on full display, lean muscle and smooth skin catching the light in a way that almost makes you think you’re still dreaming.

He’s watching you with a lazy smile, his hair slightly messy, the boyish charm of his grin blending effortlessly with the undeniable allure of his half-dressed state. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, one that only grows when your gaze meets his.

The soft chill of the morning air seeps into your skin, prompting you to burrow deeper into the covers. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you mumble, “I’m cold,” the words slipping out unconsciously.

Jungwon pauses, his gaze softening as he studies your half-asleep form. Without saying a word, he shifts closer, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He tugs the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin briefly, sending a small, unintentional shiver through you.

“Better?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, laced with a hint of amusement. But before you can respond, he leans back into his original position, his torso stretching in the process.

The motion draws your attention as he props himself up on one elbow again. The sunlight dances across his skin, accentuating the subtle lines of his muscles. A groan escapes him as he adjusts his weight, breaking the momentary silence.

“This position makes my abs hurt, you know,” he says, his tone casual but tinged with playful teasing, as if daring you to react.

Your eyes flick down, almost involuntarily, to his stomach, and the sight before you is enough to make your pulse stutter. His defined abs contract as he adjusts himself, every line of muscle taut and perfectly framed. The blanket rests low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

You immediately snap your gaze back up, your cheeks warming. “Then why lie down like that?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably.

Jungwon tilts his head, his smile growing softer. “Because I love watching you like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, the words settling over you like a gentle embrace.

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t quite know how to respond. You’re not used to this side of him—unapologetically tender, his teasing stripped down to something raw and sincere.

“Watching me drool in my sleep?” you finally say, hoping to lighten the moment and mask the warmth spreading through your chest.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Not quite,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his face just a breath away from yours. “More like admiring how peaceful you look when you’re not yelling at me about work rules or rolling your eyes at my jokes.”

His hand finds yours, and he laces your fingers together, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes your heart flutter in a way you’re definitely not prepared for.

“Speaking of plans,” Jungwon starts, his tone a little quieter now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “You remember what we said we’d do for our one-year anniversary?”

You blink at him, your brain still catching up. “Anniversary?”

“The beach trip,” he reminds you, his lips curving into a smile that’s unfairly charming. “You know, the one we’ve been talking about forever but never actually made happen because someone—” he gently pokes your side, earning a surprised squeak from you, “—is married to their job.”

“Excuse me!” you protest, sitting up slightly. “You’re the one who never takes a day off, Mr. Heroic Paramedic.”

“Touché,” he laughs, his hand still holding yours. “But I’m serious this time. No pagers, no alarms, no emergencies. Just us, the waves, and maybe some terrible sunscreen tan lines.”

The mention of the trip makes your chest tighten with a rush of emotions. You’d tucked that dream away, figuring it would never happen between the chaos of your lives. But now, hearing him bring it up so earnestly, you feel your cheeks heat with unexpected joy.

“You remembered,” you whisper, your voice soft and a little awed.

“Of course I remembered,” he says, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been looking forward to it. Haven’t you?”

Your lips part, and for a second, all you can do is nod, feeling ridiculously shy under his gaze. “I—yeah, I have,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to go for so long… with you.”

His grin spreads, slow and wickedly boyish. “With me, huh? You sound kind of obsessed.”

“Oh my God, Jungwon!” You groan, shoving at his shoulder, but he catches your hand easily, laughing as he pulls you closer.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teases, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and you bury your face in his chest, mumbling something incoherent. He chuckles, the sound reverberating through you like a warm hug, as his free hand drifts to gently trace over the fading hickey on your neck—the one he left just last night.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice full of mischief as his fingers lazily skim your skin, “this might be my best work yet.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch.

“And yet, you love me,” he replies smoothly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Which is why we’re going to that beach, no matter what. I already started looking at places. A little beach house, just us. What do you think?”

You peek up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “You mean it?”

“Do I ever joke about stuff like this?” he asks, and when you hesitate, he adds with mock offense, “Don’t answer that.”

You giggle despite yourself, the sound spilling out of you before you can stop it. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you seriously this time.”

“Good,” he says, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you even closer. “Because I’m picturing us on the sand, soaking up the sun, maybe arguing over how much sunscreen you forgot to put on.”

“Excuse me, I’m very responsible with sunscreen!” you say, sitting up straight to glare at him, though the effect is ruined by the smile tugging at your lips.

“Sure you are,” he says, his grin teasing as he leans in. “But you know what? Even if you turned into a lobster, I’d still think you’re the cutest thing on the beach.”

You groan, shoving at him again, but this time he topples backward, taking you with him. You land in a tangled heap, his laughter mixing with your protests as he wraps you in his arms.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“And you’re mine,” he replies easily, his voice softer now as he looks up at you. “One year down, and we’re only getting started.”

Your heart feels like it might burst, and for a moment, you just stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah,” you say softly, resting your forehead against his. “We are.”

And as you lie there, tangled up in him with the morning sun streaming in, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this dream of yours is finally within reach.

The day had been long, the kind where you couldn’t wait to jump in your bed, let alone entertain the idea of more teasing from your coworkers. It was the end of the shift, and as you packed up your things, you couldn’t help but hear the familiar whispers that had been circulating throughout the day. They’d been subtly, yet persistently, questioning your sudden decision to file leave for next week. And when you’d dropped the bomb that you’d be taking three days off, your coworkers had practically pounced on you.

"Going on a date?" one of them asked, grinning, clearly enjoying the moment.

You gave a half-smile, but played it cool, keeping the details about your time off to yourself. "Maybe?" you replied with a teasing tilt of your head, your voice casual but with just enough of a playful edge to keep them guessing.

“Oh, so it’s a date date?” another one chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just going for a spontaneous adventure?"

You bit back a smile, holding your ground. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

But your coworkers weren’t quite done yet. They shared a conspiratorial look, the kind that only happens when they think they’ve caught something juicy. "Funny," one of them said, leaning in, "Riki also filed for leave next week. Guess it’s the week to go on a getaway. What are you two up to, hmm?"

Your eyes widened just a bit, but you didn’t let it show. Not Riki. Your colleagues’ eyes twinkled with mischief as they continued their teasing. "Could it be that you and Riki are planning some... romantic getaway?"

You could see Riki in the corner of your eye, standing by the supply closet, looking thoroughly confused as he overheard the conversation. He was always the innocent one in this mess. You glanced at him, barely able to keep from laughing at how flustered he looked already.

"Oh, no," you said with a mischievous glint, your voice light but professional as you turned to Riki, who seemed to shrink into himself. "Riki’s just off to his sister’s graduation. Nothing more to see here, folks."

Riki blinked, completely unaware of the teasing in the air. “Right! I’m just going for my sister’s graduation,” he said with a completely straight face, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

Your coworkers, however, were having none of it. "Sure, Riki," one of them teased with a smirk, "A sister’s graduation. How convenient." They shared a laugh, clearly enjoying Riki's obliviousness, while you tried your best to stay professional, even though you were fighting a smile.

Riki just looked around, still confused by the attention. “What?” he asked, genuinely lost, not picking up on the implications. “It really is just that.”

Another coworker, not missing a beat, chimed in. “Well, if you’re both taking leave at the same time, I guess we’ll call it a ‘coincidence.’”

You fixed them all with a calm but firm gaze, your voice cutting through the banter. “Alright, enough,” you said, your tone brokering no argument. “I’m taking time off for personal reasons, Riki is attending his sister’s graduation—no more assumptions. Now, unless you want me to start assigning extra shifts, I suggest we all get back to work. We've got patients to care for, don’t we?”

The teasing immediately ceased, and your coworkers scattered, murmuring apologies as they returned to their stations. Riki, still trying to piece everything together, gave you a nod, grateful for the quick save.

"Riki, here," you said, walking up to him with a small, knowing smile. "I borrowed your coat yesterday, and I figured I should return it."

His face immediately softened with relief at the change of subject. "Oh, right," he said, taking the coat from you. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he took it, and he fumbled slightly, his gaze darting to the side. "Thanks for bringing it back so quickly."

“No problem,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. "You need it for your shift tomorrow, right?"

Riki nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours, but there was a curious hesitation there, a flicker of something else that caught your attention. "So..." he began slowly, almost as if testing the waters. "I, uh, was meaning to ask you earlier. Are you... actually dating someone?"

Your eyes softened slightly at the question. You could sense the genuine curiosity in his voice, and you appreciated that he was asking out of sincerity, not to add fuel to the teasing.

You hesitated for just a moment, not out of uncertainty, but more because you didn’t want to spill all the details. “Yes,” you answered sincerely, offering a smile. "I’m in a relationship. It’s been a while now."

Riki blinked at your response, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his tone now quieter, almost as if the reality of your answer had settled in.

“Oh,” he said, simply. His face remained neutral, but there was something about the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly that hinted at a tinge of disappointment, or maybe just confusion. It was hard to read, but you noticed it.

You couldn't help but soften your gaze at him. It wasn’t as though you’d been hiding the fact that you were in a relationship, but there was something about the way Riki asked that made it seem more... personal, more significant. His question wasn’t casual—there was an underlying sincerity to it.

“So… you don’t want to know more details?” you teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood, though you couldn't quite suppress the small, almost wistful smile on your face.

Riki blinked again, seemingly caught off guard by the question. He shook his head quickly, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Uh, no,” he said, though his voice had a touch of sheepishness to it. “I just wanted to make sure, you know, since... well, I didn’t want to be awkward or anything.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Awkward?" You leaned against the counter casually, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, but still enjoying the rare moment of candidness between the two of you. “There’s no need for that. It’s just... I’m in a relationship. That’s all there is to it."

Riki nodded quickly, though there was an almost imperceptible sigh that escaped him. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts, as if trying to connect the dots, but didn't push any further.

"So, uh, how long have you two been together?" His question came out a bit more suddenly, like he was trying to switch gears in a way that would make the situation feel less charged.

You met his gaze again, taking in the subtle shift in his demeanor, how his face seemed a little more relaxed now, as though the weight of the conversation had lightened. You thought about Jungwon for a moment—his presence always felt like a quiet reassurance, even when you weren’t with him.

“Quite a while,” you answered, the corner of your lips lifting into a small smile. “It’s been long enough that we’ve stopped worrying about all the small stuff. We’re... past the uncertainty.”

Riki gave a slow nod, the light in his eyes shifting to something a bit warmer, as if the idea of you and Jungwon being comfortable together made more sense to him. "That’s... really nice," he said, his voice steady, though there was a soft sincerity that added an unexpected weight to the words. "I’m glad you found someone."

There was an odd kind of quiet between you two, the office noise continuing around you, but it felt like this little bubble of conversation had shut it all out for a moment.

You could see that Riki was still processing everything, but the awkwardness that initially lingered between you two was gone. There was something more genuine now, a mutual respect, even if you hadn’t shared every detail. The conversation felt like an end to one chapter of your relationship with him and the beginning of another—a little less guarded, a little more human.

“Thanks, Riki,” you said, smiling warmly at him. “I appreciate that.”

Riki gave you a small, shy smile in return, still holding onto the coat you’d returned to him. "No problem. And, uh, if you ever want to talk... about anything... I’m here," he offered, clearly trying to be supportive in the only way he knew how.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice soft, but professional.

You glanced back at him with a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. “Let’s go. We’ve got no time for distractions.”

The day you had been waiting for had finally arrived—the getaway to the beach that you and Jungwon had planned so carefully, and now, as you both stepped out of the car, the salty breeze kissed your skin and the sound of waves lapping at the shore greeted you.

The sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow across the beach as you and Jungwon walked along the shore, the sound of the waves gently crashing in the background. The air was warm, carrying a light breeze that tousled your hair and wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. It was the perfect end to the day, but there was something else in the atmosphere—something more intimate, a traction you could almost touch.

You could feel his presence beside you, just close enough for his warmth to seep into you, yet distant enough that the space between you felt charged with possibility. His hand brushed against yours, and you didn’t pull away, instead letting your fingers gently touch, then intertwine. The simple contact sent a rush of heat through your body, and for a moment, everything else faded away—just you, him, and the sound of the ocean.

“Feels like a dream, doesn’t it?” Jungwon murmured, his voice soft and laced with an emotion that caught you off guard. You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Yeah, it does," you agreed, the words tasting sweeter than usual. You didn’t want to break the magic, the feeling of being alone in this perfect little bubble, just the two of you.

He gave you a small smile, his gaze lingering on you as if trying to say something without words. The way he looked at you—so soft, yet full of desire—made your heart race.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “you’re even more beautiful out here, with the sun on your skin.” He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little distracted.”

You blinked, the unexpected compliment pulling a soft laugh from your lips. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?”

He laughed quietly, but the teasing edge in his voice was absent, replaced by something more sincere. “I’m always full of surprises,” he said, his thumb lightly grazing the back of your hand. The moment felt more intimate than you expected, your heart beating a little faster as the weight of his gaze settled on you. “But I mean it. You really are.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply smiled, your fingers tightening around his, silently acknowledging the connection between you. It was enough.

After a long pause, Jungwon turned toward the towel he had spread out earlier, the one you’d been lounging on, and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen, the cool plastic in stark contrast to the hot air around you. You glanced down at your shoulders and realized with a jolt that you had completely forgotten to apply any sunscreen.

You winced a little, already feeling the heat beginning to build under your skin. “Uh, looks like I forgot something,” you said, half-laughing at your own oversight, trying to keep the mood light.

Jungwon caught your eye and smirked, clearly noticing your discomfort. “Need some help with that?” His eyebrow arched, the playful teasing in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

You raised an eyebrow in return, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “Actually,” you replied, glancing down at his bare, tanned shoulders and realizing you could use his help as much as he needed yours, “I think you need some help. You’ve got a lot of skin to cover.”

Jungwon chuckled and nodded, his lips curling into a smile. “Fair enough. I’ll take care of you, then,�� he said, his voice low, almost too smooth as he unscrewed the cap and poured some lotion into his hand. The air between you seemed to shift, charged with an energy that made your breath catch.

He reached out, a slow, deliberate move as he gently applied the sunscreen to your shoulders. His touch was light, but the heat from his skin made the lotion feel almost like an intimate caress. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the cooling sensation, but the intimacy of the moment—his hands gliding over your skin—made your pulse race.

"Don’t want you turning into a lobster," Jungwon teased, his fingers brushing your collarbone. The touch was light but electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the coolness of the sunscreen.

He moved to the other side, his fingers grazing your shoulder, the sensation soft but deliberate, as if savoring the contact. When his thumb brushed the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but hold your breath, the subtle pressure making your skin tingle.

For a brief moment, you both stayed still, the air thick with something unspoken. His touch was gentle but possessive, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “All done,” he murmured, his voice low, his hands still resting on your skin. The tension between you lingered, leaving your heart racing.

“Thanks,” you managed, though your voice was a little more breathless than you intended. You met his gaze, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

Jungwon chuckled again, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in just slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’d better.”

You stepped forward, taking the bottle of lotion from him and squeezing out a generous amount. The cool lotion met your warm skin as you applied it to his shoulders, your fingers smoothing the cream in slow, careful circles. His body tensed slightly beneath your touch, but not in discomfort—more in anticipation. You could feel the muscles under his skin shift as you worked your way down his back, your touch lingering longer than necessary, letting the moment stretch out between you.

“Hmm,” Jungwon muttered, his voice quiet as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. “That feels good. Almost like you’re trying to spoil me.”

You laughed softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe I am,” you teased. But your voice softened again as your hands continued to move over his skin, now reaching his lower back, your fingers gliding over the soft expanse. The simple touch was intimate in a way that left you both a little breathless.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the contact. “You’ve got good hands,” he said, his voice low, the words almost a compliment, though there was something else beneath them—a quiet, simmering desire that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud.

“Glad you think so,” you murmured, your own heart beating faster. The space between you was thick with unspoken tension, the air charged, both of you aware of how close you were, how every touch seemed to ignite something deeper within.

When you finished applying the lotion to his back, Jungwon turned to face you, his eyes dark with an intensity that matched the warmth of the beach around you. He didn’t speak at first, but his gaze lingered on your lips before moving back up to meet your eyes.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still. The sound of the waves and the rustling of the wind seemed to fade, and all that was left was you and him, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

But just as your heart began to race, just as the tension between you reached a boiling point, a voice pierced the air.

“Help! Help!” It was a shout from the water, distant but desperate. Someone was in trouble.

Jungwon immediately tensed, the playful atmosphere gone in an instant. Without a word, he dropped his hands, his gaze locking on the water. His expression shifted, his focus narrowing, and in the blink of an eye, he was already moving toward the water, his body agile and sure.

“Stay here,” he said, his tone firm yet soft. “I’ll handle this.”

You wanted to argue, but the urgency in his tone left no room for discussion. You hesitated for only a moment before you found yourself trailing behind him, your own heart pounding in your chest as you reached the water's edge. Jungwon was already plunging into the surf, swimming with the grace of someone who had trained for moments like these. The crowd had gathered now, watching with wide eyes, as the seconds ticked by.

He reached the woman, hauling her out of the water with impressive strength. Her body was limp, but Jungwon handled her with care as he placed her gently onto the sand. The crowd murmured in concern, but Jungwon was in his element, focused, calm. His hands moved over the woman’s body as he checked for injuries, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Someone get a first aid kit! We need help over here!” he called out, his voice steady but urgent.

People around him seemed to freeze, waiting for someone else to act, but no one stepped forward.

You didn’t hesitate. You immediately pulled out your phone, dialing the local authorities. “We need medical assistance at the beach,” you said quickly, your voice crisp, the professional tone taking over. “A woman is unresponsive. She was pulled from the water. We need help immediately.” You gave them the location and hung up, your pulse still racing from the adrenaline.

You hung up quickly, but your eyes never left Jungwon.

He was already beginning chest compressions, his hands pressing firmly against the woman’s sternum, rhythmically pushing. His expression was intense, his jaw tight with concentration. There was no trace of hesitation in his actions. Every movement was measured, calculated to save her life.

You stood frozen for a moment, watching him work—each press of his hands against her chest a reminder of just how much control he had over a situation. His face was hard with focus, his brow furrowed, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes as he checked the woman’s pulse again. His gaze flickered to you briefly, but he said nothing. There was no need for words between you two now. You both knew what needed to be done.

The woman’s chest still wasn’t rising. Jungwon didn’t stop, his hands never faltering, never speeding up or slowing down. He checked her airway, tilting her head back gently before pinching her nose, his lips pressing firmly against hers to deliver breaths.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him perform the life-saving technique, his mouth pressed against hers with the kind of urgency you rarely saw outside of medical emergencies. You hadn’t expected the flutter of something strange, a cold weight that settled in your chest.

You weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the intensity of the situation, the rawness of what he was doing, or maybe it was the way his lips lingered a fraction longer than necessary. You forced your attention to the woman, checking her pulse at her neck—thready and weak, but there.

You could feel the tension in your chest tightening, but you couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before. You tried to focus, to push aside the rush of emotions. But the sight of Jungwon so effortlessly confident, so completely in control—it stirred something inside you. You knew this was part of his job, that he had done this countless times before. And yet, there was something intimate about the way he worked, something raw that made your pulse quicken.

The woman wasn’t responding. Jungwon paused to breathe again, his movements fluid and methodical. “Come on…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves.

As if on cue, you could hear the distant hum of sirens growing louder. Medical help was on the way. But there was still time. Jungwon didn’t let up. His hands moved with precision, and when he performed another round of compressions, his face set in grim determination, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Finally, the woman gasped, her body jerking, and her chest rose with a shallow breath. A collective sigh of relief swept over the crowd. Jungwon didn’t stop, though—he kept checking her vitals, his brow furrowed as he worked. But there was a flicker of relief in his expression now.

Still, he wasn’t finished. “Where’s her guardian?” he asked sharply, scanning the crowd, his tone commanding. No one stepped forward.

Jungwon didn’t let the uncertainty slow him down. He checked her airway again, adjusting her position slightly, as he continued to monitor her pulse. “Stay with us,” he muttered under his breath, giving her another round of compressions, the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

The crowd around you seemed to dissipate, but you didn’t move. You stood there, watching Jungwon, your chest tight with some indescribable feeling—something you didn’t want to name, but couldn’t ignore.

As the woman’s pulse started to stabilize, Jungwon looked at you again, his gaze briefly meeting yours, filled with an intensity you didn’t know how to process. There was no time for anything else, though. Medical personnel were almost here, and Jungwon was already back in control, handling the situation with such ease and authority that it left you breathless.

You were grateful for him, for everything he was doing, but a part of you still felt that odd ache in your chest, the feeling lingering long after the danger had passed.

The day had been overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions that drained every ounce of energy from both of you. By the time you arrived back at the hotel, the exhaustion clung to your bones, as if the weight of the beach’s chaos had followed you in the humid air that seemed to cling to your skin. The usual buzz of life had quieted, leaving only the raw, lingering tension that neither of you had addressed.

Jungwon, ever perceptive, had noticed the change in you. From the moment he’d pulled that woman from the water and worked tirelessly to save her, he’d seen the way your expression had shifted, the way you seemed to retreat into yourself. He knew you—too well, sometimes—and it wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time you’d witnessed him perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. That alone would have been enough to make anyone feel uneasy, but on top of that, it was a woman around your age. Jungwon couldn't help but wonder if the situation had stirred up feelings in you he couldn’t fully understand.

He had been silent during the walk back, his mind swirling with thoughts. The usual back-and-forth between you was absent, replaced with a heavy quiet that hung between you both. It wasn’t the comfortable silence that came with shared moments, but a thick, uneasy one. Jungwon glanced at you more than once, his eyes searching for some sign, something that would reassure him everything was okay, but your expression was unreadable. You seemed distant—far away in a way that he hadn’t seen before.

He had seen you work through chaos countless times, both at the hospital and in life. He’d witnessed you maintain your composure under pressure, handling emergencies with an ice-cold focus. But this, seeing you react to him performing CPR on another woman, was different. He could tell. You had always been the kind of person who didn’t let emotions cloud your judgment. But now, there was something behind your eyes—a shift in the air, something unsaid that made him feel unsure.

The woman on the beach was alive because of him, because of both of you, but he couldn’t help but wonder if, in some way, your quietness was born out of something deeper. He knew how you felt about professionalism, how you held both your relationships and your work close, but this... this felt like something more. The fact that you had watched him perform a life-saving act on a stranger, a woman, with such intensity—it seemed to have carved a small divide between you and him.

Jungwon wasn’t sure what to do with this new silence. The weight of it pressed down on him, heavier than the hot air around you both. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared, but the words eluded him. So he stayed quiet, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts he couldn’t quite piece together.

As you arrived at the hotel, Jungwon opened the door for you, his usual warmth nowhere to be found. He watched as you walked past him without a word, heading straight for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed in the silence, and he slumped against the nearest wall, uncertain of what to do next. He was acutely aware of the tension in the room, how heavy it felt now, like any wrong move would break something fragile between you.

He sat on the bed, fingers running through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew you well enough to understand that you were internalizing everything—probably more than you let on. You never showed your hand too clearly, and he respected that. But right now, as you were in the bathroom, washing away the remnants of the day, Jungwon felt like he was stepping on eggshells. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, to make things worse.

When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, your face was still wet from the towel you’d used to wash away the salty residue of the day. The door opened softly, and his eyes immediately locked with yours. There was a new heaviness in the air now, something between you both that neither of you could ignore.

Jungwon sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, waiting for you to make the first move. Your eyes never left his as you walked toward him. The distance between you was small, but it felt infinite, both of you suspended in an unspoken understanding of what had transpired. He could feel the electricity in the air, thick and undeniable.

When you finally reached him, you paused, just inches away. The traction between you two crackled in the silence. Then, slowly, you raised your hand, fingers brushing against his cheek. His breath hitched at the softness of your touch, his eyes closing as he leaned into it instinctively, seeking comfort in the small, intimate gesture. He didn’t know what this moment meant, but he couldn’t deny the pull between you.

When your fingers reached his lips, the weight of everything left unspoken seemed to paralyze Jungwon, as if his entire body was caught between restraint and desire. His pulse quickened, a soft tremor running through him as you wiped the remnants of the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation off his lips with the towel. He stayed still, breath shallow, allowing you to guide the moment. There was something in the way your touch lingered, in how you moved with such control, that left him unable to do anything but wait—wait for your next move, for the next shift in the tension that was thickening the air between you.

His body hummed with need, his eyes closed as he absorbed the soft, deliberate stroke of the towel, every inch of his skin aching for more. Your proximity was intoxicating, your movements deliberate, yet so gentle. It wasn’t just the physical touch, but the unspoken invitation—the way you held him in place with nothing but your presence.

As you pulled the towel away, his lips were left lingering with the memory of your touch, and for a moment, he hesitated. But the hesitation didn’t last long. His instinct to close the distance between you overpowered his restraint, and before either of you could think, his lips pressed urgently against yours, claiming you in a kiss that was both desperate and hungry.

The kiss was electric. His hand cupped your face, fingers trembling slightly as he kissed you like he couldn’t catch his breath. You could feel the heat of his desire, but there was also something else—something submissive in how he let you lead. He responded fiercely, yes, but there was an unmistakable trust in how he followed your lead, how he let you guide the rhythm of the kiss, the intensity of it. He didn’t try to dominate; instead, he surrendered to you completely.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you needed to be closer, as if the kiss was the only way to erase the tension that had been building since the beach. It was messy, heated—your control evident in the way you commanded the kiss, but it was equally filled with urgency, a shared need for release, for connection.

Jungwon’s hands roamed to your back, fingers pressing you against him, but there was a carefulness to his touch. He wasn’t forceful. There was a tenderness, almost like he was waiting for you to take control. He wanted to feel you, wanted to have all of you, but in a way that was patient, as if he was afraid of breaking something in the moment.

You pulled away just briefly, breathless, and your eyes locked with his. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, but you didn’t let it linger. You tilted your head, studying his face, searching for something—answers, maybe, or perhaps reassurance. You were in control now, and it was clear from the way he looked at you that he would follow wherever you led.

Before you could even process the thought, your hands gripped the front of Jungwon’s shirt, pulling him with you as you leaned back. His breath hitched in surprise, but there was no resistance from him—just a quiet, willing surrender. Without breaking the kiss, you guided him backward, pushing him gently onto the bed with a sense of urgency. The soft creak of the mattress under his weight only fueled the tension between you both, the air thick with the electric pull of desire.

You hovered over him, your body just inches away from his, feeling the heat radiating off him in waves. His hands, which had been holding you so gently, now rested on the bed, palms flat as he watched you with an intensity that mirrored your own. His eyes were dark, full of something raw and unspoken, but he didn’t try to close the distance. He was letting you take control now, his body still beneath you, and you could feel the subtle way he was surrendering to you, leaving himself at your mercy.

The weight of the moment pressed on your chest, but you didn’t break away. Your gaze held his, unwavering, as you let the silence stretch between you, charged with something deeper. You could see it in the way his breath quickened, in the subtle flex of his muscles beneath you as he awaited your next move.

And then, without saying a word, you lowered yourself further, bringing your lips to his once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss was deep, intense—full of everything you hadn’t said, everything you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now. Jungwon’s hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, but even in his need, he let you guide him, letting you set the rhythm, the pace.

You pulled away slightly, your lips lingering just above his, feeling the tension in the air thicken as you gazed down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, chest rising and falling beneath you, but you could still see the sharp edge of something in his gaze. It wasn’t just the intensity of the moment—it was that subtle wariness, the same one you’d seen earlier, when he had saved that woman on the beach.

"You were pretty focused on saving her, weren’t you?” you asked, your voice quieter, but with a teasing edge.

Jungwon let out a soft, almost self-conscious laugh. "I had to. It’s part of the job," he said, his voice still heavy with the remnants of the adrenaline that had coursed through him earlier. He was trying to downplay it, but you saw right through him. "Besides, she was drowning. It’s not like I can just leave her in the water."

"You really looked like you were about to save her from everything," you quipped, arching an eyebrow. "A woman your age, no less. What was that? Was there some kind of... connection?"

Jungwon's eyes flickered, a flash of vulnerability passing through them before he masked it with a half-smile. "Well, you know, it's hard not to connect with someone who’s in trouble." He shifted underneath you, his voice a bit more serious now. "You’re not mad, are you?"

You smiled softly, the weight of the moment returning. "Mad? No. Just trying to get used to the idea of you saving women... right in front of me." You leaned down, your lips brushing his again, slowly this time, savoring the taste of him. You could feel the sharpness in his breath as he leaned into it, his hands gripping your back tighter.

"I guess it’s a good thing I’m saving you now, huh?" Jungwon’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was that familiar teasing edge to it, like he was trying to regain some sense of control.

“You're going to save me from what, exactly?” You pulled back slightly, your hands on his chest, feeling the hard press of his muscles beneath your fingertips. Your gaze never left his, unwavering.

Jungwon’s lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. "From getting lost in your head," he said, his voice playful but with an undertone of something more serious. "And from overthinking things."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the traction between you both momentarily easing. "Yeah? I guess you’ve got a lot of practice in saving people, huh?" You leaned down to kiss him again, this time with more purpose, your hands moving to his face, holding him there as you deepened the kiss.

He responded just as fiercely, his hands pulling you closer, his body shifting under yours. But even in his urgency, he still let you take the lead, his grip softening just enough for you to feel the weight of his trust.

As the kiss broke, you both breathed heavily, faces just inches apart, the silence between you charged once again.

"Just don’t get any ideas, Jungwon," you muttered, your lips curling into a sly smile. "I’m the one in control here."

Jungwon’s eyes flashed with something almost mischievous. “Oh, I know,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your waist, tightening briefly before letting go. "I’m all yours."

The words lingered in the air, both playful and charged with a deeper meaning. Your heart raced, a warmth spreading through you as you met his gaze. There was a comfort in the way he held you, in the way he knew exactly how to push and pull you at the same time.

Jungwon’s smile softened, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your ear. “Happy Anniversary, baby.”

You leaned in close, your breath barely a whisper against his skin. “Oh, I give up,” you said with a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. Your fingers lightly traced his chest as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Do a mouth-to-mouth CPR on me now.”

[part one] [part two]

taglist: @1starqi @imfuckingwhipped @moon0fthenight @jiawji @shawnyle @simja3 @babyboomysweetie @50-husbands @charlizefaye @anudocuments @ooriwoo @sa-brinaaa @luumiinaa @personallyminelol

tell me if you want to be added or removed from the taglist! thanks<33

[redvexillum]

@peach-flavored-flambe I started this whole Flufftober/Kinktober journey as a way to challenge myself. Thank you for picking all the prompts for me this month. Thank you for always reminding me to write for ME and not for others. Thank you for being supportive of all of my writing since the day I entered this fandom. I know you are a fluff connoisseur so it's only right that I end this challenge with fluff - it is part Flufftober after all (and I wrote 24 smutty stories this month lol!)

TAGS: disgustingly fluffy, catastor, alastor is bad with feelings, alastor is in denial, touch starved alastor, ambiguously defined established relationship, alastor has a tail

✨️ This is a companion piece to Oblivious Love. A snapshot of a possible mini-series I may or may not write ✨️

In another world, in another time, Alastor would have scoffed at the very notion of competing for anyone’s attention—least of all yours. And yet here he was, locked in a contest of affections with the most revolting, misshapen, red… thing. His lip curled in distaste. 

Competing? 

What a joke. 

He, Alastor, the Radio Demon, competing with… this? This mangy, misbegotten creature that you somehow, with all your boundless compassion, deemed to be a cat. His left eye twitched as he watched you coo at it, tenderly brushing your hand over its head. Every stroke made its misshapen ears flicker back before they sprung up again like hideous, overgrown weeds. 

The beast grinned up at you—a lopsided, almost maniacal grin—and Alastor cringed at its wide, vacant eyes. Eyes that pointed in opposite directions, adding an extra layer of stupidity to its already horrific form. And to top it all off, it wore some ridiculous monocle over one eye, like some half-wit caricature. Alastor's gaze narrowed on the creature’s absurd antler-like protrusion. 

How… befittingly obnoxious.

And then there was the name. 

Catastor. 

Of all the wretched things to call this freakish beast, you—and the rest of the hotel—had somehow arrived at Catastor, no doubt inspired by some misguided notion that this abomination had any resemblance to him. He huffed. The very idea. 

Just as he was about to enjoy a nice, quiet coffee break with you—his sacred time with his favourite person in all of Hell, uninterrupted and undivided—Catastor once again waltzed in, unannounced and unbothered. One garish screech later, and Alastor watched in slow motion as your attention shifted from him to… it. Your cooing started, that soft, adoring voice, while you scratched its revolting back, its purring filling the air with an infuriating satisfaction. 

Alastor’s grin tightened, his claws tapping rhythmically against his coffee cup, every nerve on edge. He imagined roasting the little beast, maybe flambéing it for good measure. Or perhaps he’d skip the cooking and just… devour it raw. 

It wouldn’t respawn. Unlike the sinners here, this little beast wouldn’t come back... 

...Actually, he wasn't entirely sure. It probably wouldn't come back. 

“Are you enjoying that, Catastor?” you murmured sweetly, eyes soft and radiant as you stroked it gently, letting your fingers glide down its back. Catastor’s eyes slowly drooped with bliss, purring loudly, completely absorbed in the luxury of your touch. 

Alastor’s claws tapped harder. Perhaps he would spare the creature for a little longer, let it feel a few more sunrises. But only for now, until he deemed the time right. 

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He’d never lower himself to something so trivial. No, he already had your attention. Compete? He smirked inwardly. He would never. 

“Dear?” Alastor called, his pride swelling as you looked up, your lovely smile still intact, eyes gleaming with interest as they settled on him. His heart raced—it always did when you looked at him like that, so openly, so innocently, as if he were your whole world. Clearing his throat, he kept his tone cheerful, even as he threw a disdainful glance at Catastor. 

“Your drink is getting cold, my dear. All this fuss over that… thing,” he muttered, lingering on the word with disdain as he quirked a brow toward the vile intruder. 

“Oh! That’s true!” you exclaimed cheerfully, scooping up Catastor with all the ease of picking up a damp noodle. The creature seemed to melt in your arms, his gelatinous little body sagging like all his bones had been dissolved into mush. His spine curved absurdly, draped over your arm like a ragged old towel, all while his purring grew even louder. You giggled brightly, an infectious sound that made Alastor’s ears twitch, and his eye give the faintest, most involuntary spasm. 

How smug, how terribly smug that little beast looked, he thought, like he’d won something. Alastor was positively certain that he could draw even more radiant laughter from you if he just had you to himself. 

But this… not-competing for your attention carried on. 

The next day, he found himself strolling around town by your side, his back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, as he recounted the latest juicy bits of gossip from Cannibal Town. Your expression was relaxed, attentive, and that quiet comfort in your eyes swelled a surprising sort of pride in his chest. 

“Oh, and don’t get me started on ol’ Frank here,” Alastor chortled, gesturing with his staff at a dilapidated little shop across the street. “Croaked in the last Extermination, poor fool! And now some hapless soul bought the building!” He pointed with glee just in time to see a young woman struggle with the door before it promptly collapsed on her head. He stifled a delighted laugh. “No one’s managed to run a shop there for nearly five hundred years! Imagine such a waste of souls….” 

“Aww, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically, your amused smile softening. “Maybe you could help her out? Make her a deal?” you teased, a playful smirk lighting up your features, though your usual kindness still sparkled in your eyes. 

“Perhaps,” Alastor mused, softening his tone as the two of you strolled on. He did enjoy these quiet moments with you, wandering through the chaos of town. Ordinarily, he might have offered any other lady his arm with a bit of playful charm, but as his eyes drifted to your hand swinging casually by your side, he couldn’t help a ridiculous little thought from slipping into his mind. 

What would it be like to take your hand? To clasp his fingers over yours? He imagined the warmth, the softness of your skin and your hand would fit perfectly in his, as if made for him alone. 

The hum of Cannibal Town’s busy streets faded to a quiet buzz as Alastor fell into the silence. His gaze lingered on your hand for a moment longer, and then, in a rare, almost boyish impulse, he stretched out one gloved finger, brushing ever so lightly against the top of your hand. 

Immediately, his gaze darted to your face, but your expression remained calm, as placid as ever, lost in thought. The smallest curl of his grin softened as he looked ahead again, spine straighter than ever. 

A shuddering breath slipped past Alastor's lips. He had held other people’s hands countless times over the years—flirtations, deals, the occasional well-mannered escort—but this was… different. Strangely intimate. Vulnerable, even, which was absolutely absurd. He was over a century old, for heaven’s sake, not some fumbling schoolboy. It was just a hand, after all; he could chalk it up to nothing more than a gentlemanly gesture. 

So, after one fortifying breath, he steadied his gaze forward and reached out, his fingers inching toward yours. 

But… instead of your warm, delicate hand, his fingers closed around something smaller. And… hairier? 

Alastor’s eyes snapped down, and his lips clamped shut to suppress the hiss of static crackling in his throat. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep the shriek that wanted to escape from manifesting into the demonic roar his pride demanded. Because in his hand, instead of yours, was a limp, furry, noodle-like appendage. 

Catastor, somehow, had wriggled its way between the two of you and was now proudly extending its furry little paw into his hand. 

“Eugh!” Alastor recoiled, releasing the beast’s fuzzy limb with an audible cringe. 

You burst into peals of laughter, the sound bright and melodic as you greeted the cat with your usual warmth.

 “Catastor!” you cooed, scratching the creature’s head while it emitted a grating, delightfully hideous meow in response. Grinning up at Alastor, you said with a chuckle, “Look at us—a little family, walking around town like this!” 

Alastor’s grin tightened. “It looks nothing like me,” he muttered, only for the monocled beast to cast him a haughty, one-eyed glare. Under the hellish glow of the streetlights, its monocle gleamed almost smugly. 

“Oh, of course,” you replied simply, your laughter still dancing on your lips. 

His eye twitched as he entertained himself with the idea of cooking the cat into a jambalaya, rich and smoky. But no—that would be a small defeat, a concession that he was somehow competing with the fiendish little furball, which he wasn’t. 

Not at all. 

Yet, the relentless interference continued. Day after day, Alastor’s patience thinned. The little vermin seemed to have made it its life’s mission to sabotage every moment he tried to spend alone with you. He’d reach out naturally, aiming to rest a hand on your shoulder, only to feel the warm, slightly damp fur of the cat draped over your shoulder instead, as if it had some preternatural ability to stretch itself into his every gesture. 

Every time, he could imagine nothing less than punting the thing across the Petagram and sending it into the deepest layer of Hell. Yet, that urge would disappear the moment he heard your bright, amused laughter and saw your radiant smile. It was like you were some smile devil—any glimpse of your joy, and he lost all resolve to do anything that might bring you sadness. 

One afternoon, in the quiet shade of the bayou, Alastor stood by, his legs pulled primly together as he watched you lying in the grass. Your eyes were closed, a soft, contented hum escaping your lips as you lay there, bathed in the dappled light. The whole scene should have been picturesque: you, serene, the epitome of innocence and tranquility. 

But there was that hideous thing, sprawled over your chest like a satisfied pancake, purring loudly as if it had any right to bask in your affection. 

Alastor’s grin was wide, but his eyes were sharp, glaring daggers at the offending beast now lazing on top of you as if it belonged there. You, oblivious, kept humming, your hand stroking the cat’s fur in gentle, absent-minded sweeps. A perfectly peaceful scene, if not for the blob of red fluff ruining the picture by its very presence. 

One day, he mused darkly, one day that creature’s reign will end. But for now, he contented himself with standing by, watching the two of you in bemused, begrudging silence. 

The longer Alastor stared at that mangy little beast basking in your gentle touch, the more a unfamiliar itch settled in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder, just in passing—strictly passing, of course—what it might feel like if your fingers drifted through his hair instead, tender and deliberate. 

Not that he’d ever ask, of course.

It was merely… curiosity. 

Still, the cat’s purring only seemed to grow louder, practically vibrating with pleasure. Alastor's ears flattened, lying flush against his head as his grin grew tighter, his shoulders hunching slightly as his neck tried to disappear into his collar. He wasn’t jealous, nor was he competing with a wretched creature for your attention. 

He most certainly was not. 

His fingers drummed against his knee, the gentle tap-tap-tap a cover for how long it had been since he’d had time alone with you, just the two of you, enjoying each other’s company without any interruptions. To touch your shoulder, perhaps even feel your hand… in a gesture of camaraderie, of course. 

Yes, that cat really did need to go. 

“What’s wrong?” Your soft voice broke through his reverie, and he blinked, letting the darker thoughts slip away like shadows at dawn. 

Forcing a laugh, he pitched it into that usual two-tone cadence, rolling his eyes with practised ease. “Nothing’s the matter, dear, just basking in the peace and quiet,” he flicked his wrist with a dismissive flair, avoiding your gaze. 

You hummed thoughtfully, then suddenly mused aloud, “I wonder… is your hair soft?” 

Alastor’s eyes widened, his head snapping back to you with an almost painful creak. His heart thundered, warmth radiating through his chest in a dizzying surge. “That’s a rather odd question, isn’t it?” he replied, wincing as he heard the slight waver in his voice. His tail thumped softly against the marshy grass in protest. 

“Well, your son—” 

“He’s not my son,” Alastor interrupted quickly, unable to hide the slight flush in his cheeks. 

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes, and Alastor found himself scooting just the tiniest bit closer. 

“Oh?” He let a wicked grin slip across his face. “So, you want to touch my hair, do you? It’ll cost you a steep price, my dear.” His eyes glowed with mock menace, and a low buzz of static crackled from his staff. “Perhaps… your soul,” he laughed darkly, the edge of humour softening his tone. 

You blinked at him before bursting into bright laughter. “What if I offer a massage instead?” You wiggled your fingers playfully. “Catastor seems to love it when I give him a little scratch behind the ears.” 

“Ugh.” Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “That cat’s so starved for affection, you could probably kick it, and it’d still be purring like mad.” His grumble was almost swallowed up by his own embarrassment. 

There was a moment of silence as you watched him, a thoughtful look flickering in your eyes. Alastor stiffened under your gaze, nerves prickling as though you could see right through him. Then, with a bright smile, you reached out, your fingers splayed and wiggling in invitation. “You can be the judge then,” you offered with a grin, your hands open and waiting. 

Alastor’s gaze locked on your outstretched fingers, and as if guided by some irresistible, magnetic force, he found himself drifting closer, leaning in with a reverence that felt both foreign and sacred. He knelt just above your head, his eyes meeting yours in a soft, consuming stare, so near he could see the flecks of colour that danced within your gaze under the dim light. Slowly, carefully, he bowed, his face hovering just inches from yours, every breath mingling in the silence. 

His hair brushed against your cheek, and the contact brought a light laugh from you, your voice a murmur that warmed his every nerve. “That tickles.” 

He was entranced, utterly held captive by your closeness, by the way your lashes fluttered and your cheeks flushed. He’d never seen you this close before, and each tiny detail felt etched into his memory. “Well, go on,” he said softly, his tone dipped in a vulnerability he rarely allowed. “Show me if your massage is as grand as you claim.” 

A rush of warmth and satisfaction welled within him when he saw your own eyes flicker away shyly, your teeth worrying at your lip. You looked so endearingly flustered, as if realizing you and he were somehow alone in a bubble of time—just the two of you, no one else to intrude, no foolish cat.

Your fingers threaded delicately into his hair, and he surrendered, eyes slipping closed as he basked in the soft drag of your nails against his scalp. A shiver chased down his spine, and he released a soft, involuntary sigh, savouring every touch. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him like this—no, no one had ever touched him like this. 

Your fingers travelled over his hair, deft and soothing, with your thumb tracing small circles at the base of his ear. He shuddered, his tail swaying in a steady, rhythmic beat beside him, betraying just how deeply he was affected. 

“Good?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

“Mmh.” His lips curled into a barely there smile, eyes still closed as he revelled in the feeling. “Passable,” he said, his tone rich with teasing. 

Your soft laughter flitted across his forehead, tickling his bangs and sending a delightful hum through his chest. He felt your breath, warm against his skin, each laugh another note of the melody he’d come to cherish. The gentle sweep of your thumb against his cartilage sparked waves of pleasure down his spine, and at some point, he’d eased himself down beside you, both of you lying on the cool grass, faces close as if drawn by an unspoken force. 

“You okay?” you murmured, your smile impossibly tender, amusement twinkling in your eyes. 

He met your gaze and found himself drinking in every detail. He liked your eyes, liked the way they softened as you looked at him. 

He liked your smile. 

But above all, he adored your laughter—the sound that seemed to strip away his defences and leave him feeling both exhilarated and exposed. 

A strange, quiet want flickered in his chest, something deep and hidden, something he hadn’t dared entertain. He wondered, just for a reckless, precious moment, what it would be like to move closer. Close enough that his breath mingled with yours, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, maybe even let his lips graze yours. 

Just close enough… to be with you. 

Would such closeness chase away that cherished smile, rob him of the laughter that had grown to mean so much? 

As his thoughts drifted, your fingers slipped down his hair, tracing the line of his cheek. He could feel your fingertips gliding over his skin, tender and curious. Then came that small, enchanting giggle, a sound so sweet it echoed within him, lingering as if it were a treasure he’d never forget. 

Alastor could feel his heart beating a little too quickly as he leaned closer, drawn by the soft warmth of your touch. His face was just a breath away from yours, his lips so near your forehead, he could already imagine the gentle brush of a kiss. A kiss there would be innocent enough, right? Perhaps pressing his lips to yours would be too bold... but a tender gesture to your forehead surely wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

After all, this was for friendship—of course.

Just then, you sat up, leaving Alastor frozen, a pang of disappointment dropping like cold lead in his chest. But the ache melted away, replaced by a flash of heat, as you leaned forward, hair falling around him in a private curtain that made his breath hitch. Your smile softened, your eyes warm and unwavering, and then they closed, lashes sweeping delicately against your cheeks. Slowly, achingly slowly, you moved closer, and Alastor felt his pulse roar, filling his ears with a rush of anticipation. 

He could feel the warmth of your breath mingling with his, your fingers grazing his cheek as if the touch itself could tether him in place. A thrill he hadn’t realized he was longing for stirred within him. He closed his eyes, waiting, a tension brimming in his chest. His fingers trembled as he raised his hand, longing to close the last bit of distance, to touch you, to be as close to you as he’d been daring to dream. 

But then—“KAOUGH, KAOUGH, KAAAOUGHGHGHH!” 

A horrid, hacking noise broke through the moment like a thunderclap, snapping his focus away and shattering the spell between you. Instantly, Alastor’s warmth turned to ice as you jerked back, your attention stolen by none other than that wretched, blasted cat. 

“Catastor!” you exclaimed, startled, pulling away as the cat began to retch with ferocity. Alastor turned his gaze, annoyance brewing in his eyes, and found himself staring at the feline menace who was now coughing up dark, soot-like balls. These abominable little things, complete with tiny pointed ears and two unsettling, beady eyes, tumbled out of Catastor one after another, writhing and blinking as if they’d just spawned from a nightmare. 

“What the—” Alastor’s voice dropped, a disgusted snarl creeping into his expression as he watched the horrid little creatures emerge. Each ball of shadow looked like a poorly crafted miniature imp, malformed and twitching, with pointed ears and flickering eyes that seemed to leer at him. 

You, however, looked anything but disturbed. Stroking Catastor’s back in gentle, soothing motions, you cooed, “Aww, Catastor, did you eat too much again?” Your voice was filled with a doting affection, and Alastor watched in utter disbelief as the monstrous cat leaned fully against you, sprawling across your torso and letting its chin settle on your shoulder. 

“Yeeeeooowww,” Catastor moaned, an ugly, grating yowl that grated on Alastor’s every nerve. 

He gritted his teeth, feeling the rage simmering beneath his strained grin. The cat’s smug, hideous expression seemed to taunt him as it claimed your attention and care. Alastor could practically hear the mockery in its yowl. In his mind, he imagined various methods of removing this furred menace from your life—and more importantly, from his. 

But as he looked back at you, watching the way your eyes softened with laughter and your voice became gentle for this thing, the thought of that precious smile disappearing stayed his hand. Instead, he forced a tight grin, one that masked the bitterness eating at him from the inside, knowing he would endure—even if he had to suffer through a hundred more of those retched “yeeeooowwws.” 

"Aw, there, there," you murmured, gently patting the cat’s back with slow, soothing strokes. You looked at it as if it were some fragile, innocent creature, while the vile shadowy minions it coughed up scattered in all directions like troublesome spirits unleashed from a curse. 

Alastor could feel his patience fraying. With a quiet, heavy sigh, he sent out his own shadows, ruthlessly ordering them to snatch and crush every last one of the creatures scuttling about his beloved bayou. They obeyed, darting after the minions with deadly precision, each shadow winking out in a puff as they met their end. He folded his hands with a dark, calculated grace, but his gaze—his burning, dagger-sharp gaze—never left that insufferable cat. 

Oh, he saw it, all right. 

Saw the smug curl of its eyes, narrowing like crescent moons, and that infernal tongue hanging out, like it had the audacity to taunt him. Him. Alastor, the feared overlord, the Radio Demon. He felt something ancient and fierce coil in his chest, as if the essence of his full demon form threatened to break through, to remind this creature who reigned supreme. 

But just as his head tilted, shadows thickening around him with a promise of retribution, you turned toward him, drawing his full attention like a magnet. Your eyes softened, and a faint blush crept over your cheeks, spilling a fragile warmth he hadn’t anticipated. “Sorry about that, Alastor,” you said, your voice laced with sincerity, and as your gaze flicked downward, his anger dissolved just slightly, easing in the tender lull of your voice. 

Your next words undid him further. “Maybe tonight, we could read together?” You glanced up, offering a small, gentle smile that seemed to light the space between you both. “Just the two of us?” 

With those words, that insatiable, molten rage that had been brewing in his chest dissipated instantly, snuffed out as though you’d whispered the calmest of spells. 

He was sure of it then—you had to be a Smile Demon. How else could you possibly hold such power over him, capable of soothing his very soul with a single look? 

He gazed at you, awe mingling with amusement. Yes, you must be a demon of terrifying strength indeed—one who held him, the Radio Demon, in the palm of your hand with nothing more than a smile. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[nab1wuzhere]

Magnetic

“You wouldn’t look at me.”

“I saw plenty.”

“In my eyes.”

“…Does it matter?”

~

summary:

Bakugo Katsuki, No. 3 Hero in the charts, massive amounts of fan girls, always invited to galas, events, and even award shows along side his peers, but he has never once gotten a dating scandal in his whole career. Has never even looked in a woman’s direction. So you can be certain he won’t change his actions when artist Y/N is invited to sing at a private Christmas Gala hosted for hero’s to celebrate the season and a year well done of duties…right?

Singer, artist, model Y/N, has it all. Looks, wealth, awards, friends, family, and boyfriends.. her music revolves around her relationships and past relationships along with her mental health that she speaks about through her music. She gets asked to gigs almost every day but few are lucky to book her, when her team gets a request for the Christmas Hero Gala which is highly exclusive, she immediately agrees to entertaining the hero’s, excited for the night she doesn’t realize she caught a certain man’s attention in the back of the crowd..

• slow burn - secret pining - romance - bold Y/N, shy Katsuki - vice versa - celebrity!y/n x aged up!katsuki

• following contains, eventual smut, mentions of suicide, alcohol, mental illness, heavy party scenes and probably more !

• 18+ only!! this is your warning

• the rest of the celebrities mentioned in this series i do not take credit for, and the songs mentioned all writing ownership belongs to them! i do not take credit except for this fan fiction!

!! just a friendly reminder this is all fake, simply my imagination placed into writing !!

intro

chapter one

furious knocking is heard on bakugo katsuki’s hotel door, with shouts of “katsuki!! katsuki!!” being heard on the other side of the door.

katsuki groaned furiously as he got up and headed for the door, opening it loudly

“what the hell?!”

katsuki opened it to see his best friend, eijiro kirishima standing before him with a star eyed look on him. katsuki sighed and opened the door wider for his red headed friend to walk in.

“this better be good shitty hair, i was about to eat my fuckin’ breakfast.” katsuki spoke with a grumble

“katsuki! you’ll never believe it, guess who’s the performer for the gala?!” eijiro said practically shouting the walls away, his hands in tight fists, barely holding himself together.

a massive sigh was heard from katsuki, “will you PLEASE, for the love of god stop the fuckin’ shoutin’?!” he practically raised his hands in the air with annoyance

eijiro nodded happily, no sign of embarrassment or fear covered his body, his hands just moved in a “guess” motion

katsuki gave him a blank stare before running a hand through his spiky blonde hair. “who is preform—” before he could finish his sentence eijiro already announced the performer,

“Y/N! THE Y/N! like global sensation Y/N?! SHE of all people will be preforming FOR US katsuki!!! can you believe it?! oh my god!!”

katsuki gave him a look of “who the fuck are you talking about” before realization dawned on him, on his face, “oh, the chick who sings ‘NDA’?”

eijiro nodded excitedly, “and therefore i am, your power, when the party’s over-”

“oh yeah, i like when the party’s over”

“male fantasy, i love you- OH my gosh what if she sings i love you? oh ill sob. oh not to mention, illicit affairs, my tears ricochet—”

“eijiro.” katsuki spoke in a harsh tone “we get it, she sings a lot of songs you know.”

eijiro walked towards him and sat down, “see that’s just the thing katsuki, she doesn’t just sing. she’s- hah! she’s an idol, she- she literally defines music, she’s a poet and composer and creates masterpieces using something that comes naturally to her- she- she creates art out of instruments and makes millions out of it-” eijiro reaches for the tv remote. “i mean look she even-”

“oh i’d rather you not go down this rabbit hole of obsession”

“yeah well i’m going to so shut up and eat your pancakes”

katsuki stared down at his plate of buttermilk pancakes and looked offended as eijiro flipped to ‘youtube’ on the hotels tv, seconds later there’s a video playing of Y/N preforming at coachella a year ago, singing her song, ‘idontwannabeyouanymore’ her voice soft and smooth as she sang the words with ease.

“i mean you see how natural it is for her? there are so and i mean so so many singers out there but jesus.. there’s only one of her.” he pointed to the screen and katsuki’s eyes followed to it, the camera panning on her face, her eyes shut, lashes brushing her under eye, her lips close to the microphone, there had to be a fan right above her, her hair flowing around, but yet somehow it didn’t look messy.. like it did but it was a good messy, her eyes opened and a glint of happiness shined in them, her lips curved up into a smile as she harmonized the end, and the whole crowd screamed and emerged into clapping, she looked down at her feet, the air blowing her hair, she looked up and her eyes shined from the blue spotlight creating a glow over her. she mouthed “thank you” before shouting, “THANK YOU COACHELLA!!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCH” and the video ended.

“i mean come on!! she’s a fucking legend and in her fucking prime right now, and to even think she’s gonna perform for US?! oh god man i could pass away” ejiro says as he fake swoons and falls onto the hotel couch, his hand on his forehead.

katsuki scoffs as he takes a bite of his pancakes, “yeah, i mean she is good, she’s got a voice that’s for sure-”

ejiro interrupts katsuki immediately, “it’s not just the voice man!! it’s her, she’s from a whole other world! and she’s like the nicest person you’ll ever meet-”

“and have you? have you met her?” katsuki gives him a sarcastic look, ejiro presses his lips met with silence, katsuki sighs as sets his fork down and crosses his arms, “don’t believe everything you see on the internet ejiro.” he said with a serious tone, “not everyone is who they seem to be, i can sniff out who’s a fucking fake from a mile away, i would know” he gives an annoyed look.

ejiro sighs as he gets up and pops a blueberry in his mouth that had been sitting on katsuki’s breakfast plate, “yeah well we will have to wait to meet her so you can “sniff her out” yourself..” ejiro scoffs, “trust me katsuki, she’s the real deal.” he ended with pointing at the tv who had Y/N smiling out into the crowd at coachella, her eyes like glitter.

ejiro said his goodbyes and walked out leaving katsuki by himself and just him staring at the tv screen, his arms still crossed, he mentally slapped himself before pressing the video that would come up next, another performance at coachella from the same year, her hit song, “when the party’s over”. now this one katsuki was familiar with, it was one he found himself listening to a lot in his car, the lyrics were raw he would give her that, and her voice- god if katsuki knew it was something sent out of a dream to become katsuki’s worst nightmare he would have never clicked play.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 12: "This is spooky" "Really?"

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

“Spencer, do we really have to do this?”

From your spot, you pouted while watching your boyfriend struggle with the TV, trying to insert the VHS tape. Seriously, who still had those? you thought as you watched him, but knowing the man, it wasn’t surprising at all.

“Come on, sunshine! We’ve been watching romantic comedies for months. It’s my turn to show you something.”

“But I hate horror movies.”

“We’re starting with the Scream series—it’s no big deal,” he reassured you. “I promise.”

Once he managed to insert the tape, he practically ran back to your side, settling on the couch where there was already popcorn, some Halloween candy, and a couple of other movies Spencer had lined up for the marathon.

“Is that Drew Barrymore? She’s in a great movie, Never Been Kissed. Want to watch that one instead?”

“Is it a romantic one?” he asked, looking at you seriously. You couldn’t deny it.

“I’m going to have nightmares!”

“You’re not going to have nightmares, baby,” he murmured confidently, leaning in to plant a loud kiss on your cheek. “Come on, do it for me. I love these movies, and besides, it’s October. It would be a crime not to watch them!”

You grumbled a bit, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t get your way, and then shifted to get comfortable, laying your head on your boyfriend’s chest. The truth was you didn’t want to break his heart by saying you didn’t want to watch those movies, but everything involving blood and death completely terrified you. You didn’t even know how Spencer managed to deal with it every day at his job, especially when, once, by accident, he had brought home photos from a case, and just seeing them made you feel like throwing up. You spent several nights with that image stuck in your head and begged him never to share gruesome details about his work with you again.

You reminded him a lot of Garcia. Always in such pretty, feminine dresses, with maybe 80% of your belongings in shades of pink, purple, or any pastel tone, and, of course, a sweet and delicate personality.

He always thought his taste in women was pretty defined in certain aspects, but you had completely broken the mold. You left colorful post-it notes with motivational messages on his beige bureau folders, bought him skincare products, and once a week, you’d do face masks, manicures, massages, among other things for him.

You were the complete opposite of what he saw every day, and maybe that’s why he was so in love with you. Like a beautiful flower in the middle of the desert.

“Did you watch this stuff when you were a kid?” you suddenly asked, still looking at the screen and tracing uneven patterns with the hand you had resting on his chest.

“Some, yeah. I started with the classics, like Carrie, The Craft, The Shining… slasher films were never my favorite subgenre, but they’re the easiest to digest for beginners.”

“So, in this one, that guy just wants to kill everyone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Lovely,” you muttered sarcastically, making him chuckle.

After thinking about it for a moment, he dared to express the doubt that had been growing from your attitude.

“Hey, baby, do you really not want to watch these? It’s okay if you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to push you. I just thought…”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I mean, I freaking hate jumping out of my seat every five minutes, but if you enjoy this, I want to share it with you. I highly doubt you enjoy my favorite movies as much as I do, but you always let me pick. And you comforted me for almost an hour after we watched The Notebook, so this is the least I can do for you.”

He knew you were being sincere when you said that, and to ease any lingering doubts, you stretched up to kiss him sweetly.

“Besides,” you continued, “you never get any days off, and if the price to pay for spending the whole night cuddling with you is watching these movies, then I’m okay with it.”

He smiled broadly and pulled you closer against his body, as if wanting you to feel completely protected from anything. He was the one who hunted monsters in real life, after all, and you knew that if some crazy killer ever stalked you, Spencer would take care of it.

The truth was, you were getting pretty interested in the movie, as the mystery of Ghostface’s identity kept you hooked. Unfortunately, you were about halfway through the movie when a scene startled you (more than the others had), and you quickly hid your face in your boyfriend’s neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is spooky”

“Really?” he laughed, trying not to sound too amused. “I can’t imagine what you’ll say when we watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

“Spencer!” you practically screamed, lifting your head to look at him and playfully hitting him on the shoulder in protest.

“I’m joking…” he defended himself, kissing you as an apology. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, I want to finish it. I’m enjoying it, and I need to know who the killer is.”

“Any guesses?”

“You’re the profiler here, not me. The only thing I can tell you is that the makeup artist on set did a great job.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, and you snuggled back against him, occasionally grabbing some popcorn while letting him feed you candy and marshmallows.

After two more movies, Spencer noticed you had fallen sound asleep against him, and not wanting to disturb your rest, he simply pulled the blanket over you. Once you were fully covered and the TV was off, he rested his head on yours to get some sleep, lulled by the scent of your hair.

To his surprise, on the next movie night, you asked to watch a horror movie, and when he questioned your choice, you simply shrugged.

“When we watch them, you hug me the whole time and kiss me whenever something scares me. Plus, you enjoy them, so we both win.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that and happily obliged, sticking to what you had said. After a few weeks, the truth was you weren’t that scared anymore, but either way, it was always nice to pretend if it meant getting extra cuddles from your boyfriend. And he, who quickly figured out your little lie, was more than happy to play along.

[justmystyles]

The Morning After

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 2,583

trigger warning: vomiting

summary: the morning after Harry's 30th birthday, you're hungover and Harry reminds you of your drunken actions from the night before, leading to a conversation you never expected.

a/n: i missed Harry's birthday, but I got this idea for a morning after fic, so here we are. i've been writing a few things behind the scenes, and I know i've said a few times that I was going to try to come back, but this time i mean it. i'm working on a couple of one shots, and a new series that i'm very excited about, so hopefully you'll hear more from me soon!

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You open your eyes and immediately groan in pain as they meet the sunlight shining into your bedroom. You quickly shut them and pull your pillow over your face. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t go too hard last night, but Harry kept wanting to do shots, and who were you to deny the birthday boy? 

It was your best friend, Harry’s 30th birthday party, and he spared no expense. The room was packed with his closest family and friends, including a long list of famous faces. There was loud music, dancing, tons of food, and of course, alcohol. As with most parties, Harry barely let you out of his sight, and any time a tray of shots went past him he’d grab one for each of you. You lost count after a while, and truthfully, you aren’t really sure how you ended up at home and in your bed. You assumed Harry had something to do with it. You rarely got drunk, but when you did Harry was always very protective and caring, even if he was two sheets to the wind himself. 

The ringing of your doorbell, followed by the incessant knocking at your door feel like a thousand nails being hammered into your head. You groan, but know it isn’t going to stop until you answer the door. You throw your legs over the side of your bed and sit still for a moment, working up the energy to stand and walk to the front door. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a full glass of water and a couple of aspirin, sitting on top of the note: 

For the lightweight in my life. 

xH

A small smile plays on your lips at the note, combined with the thoughtfulness of your best friend. You take the pills and drink the entire glass of water before standing and making your way to the front door. You are immediately met with Harry’s infuriatingly handsome face, a wide grin plastered across it as if last night never happened. 

“Took you long enough.” He says in a bright, teasing tone. You immediately bring your hand to your forehead, the voice that usually causes butterflies in your stomach piercing right through your brain. “Rough night?” He asks knowingly. 

You flip him off before stepping aside to let him in. “How can you possibly be this okay right now?” You ask in disbelief as you shuffle to the couch, collapsing onto your back and resting your arm across your eyes. “I’m not just okay, I’m great!” He lifts your feet up and sits on the couch, placing your legs down in his lap. “I’ve been up for hours, went on a nice run, got some shopping done. It’s been quite a productive day.” 

You pull the pillow out from under your head and throw it at him. He catches it with ease and chuckles at your meek sign of aggression. 

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before you finally speak up. “I’m not going to be a fun hang today, just so you know.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head. “You never are, why would today be any different?” He jokes. You move your arm away from your eyes and look up at him, narrowing your gaze. 

He lets out a loud laugh and holds his hands up defensively. “Just kidding! You know you’re my favorite.” He leans over and boops your nose. A sign of affection the two of you often share. 

You smirk and shake your head as it falls back on the couch. “Did you have fun last night?” 

“So much fun, the party was amazing!” Harry beams. “I got to see so many people that I hadn’t seen in a while. But you know what my favorite part was?” 

You groan in reply, signaling for him to continue, your eyes closed to block the sunlight. 

He turns to look at your face, his expression and tone softening. “At the end of the night, when we were saying goodbye to everyone and you kissed me…”

It feels as though time stands still. The nausea and pain from the hangover immediately replaced by panic and shock. You sit up straight and look at him with a furrowed brow. “Kissed… like kissed kissed?” 

He grins and nods. “A proper kiss, tongue and everything.” 

Your face immediately turns a bright shade of crimson and your eyes go wide. You’d had more than friendly feelings for Harry for a while, but you were certain those feelings would never be returned. He always introduced you to his superstar, super skinny girlfriends, so you always felt your thick thighs and big stomach were far from his type. You’d much rather spend your life hiding your feelings and having him in your life as a friend than to tell him how you feel and end up losing him because those feelings weren’t returned. 

“Harry, I am so sorry… I was drunk… I don’t even remember it happening… I…” You panic and begin to ramble out an apology. 

“Hey hey hey,” he interrupts you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for. I was glad that you kissed me. It was nice, I felt… wanted.”

You scoff slightly. “You’re one of the most wanted men in the world, you don’t need a sloppy drunk kiss for that.”

“But I liked feeling wanted by you. You didn’t want Harry Styles, famous pop star. You wanted me, just regular Harry.” 

“Just regular Harry is my favorite person.” You say in a soft, caring tone. 

“I know he is, that’s why I enjoyed that kiss so much. And it got me wondering…” He trails off, thinking of the best way to bring up what he wants to say. “They often say people are their most honest selves when they’re drunk, so I was wondering if that kiss meant anything to you? Like if maybe you were thinking of me as more than just a friend…” 

Your hangover mixed with the anxiety of being called out for your secret feelings causes your nausea to return. You immediately start stuttering. “What? I… you’re my best friend! We aren’t… I don’t…”

Harry reaches out, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Shhh, it’s okay. We’re always going to be best friends, I promise.” He assures you, his eyes staring deep into yours. “Do you want to know what I wished for last night when I blew out my candles?” 

You shake your head slowly, your mind racing and your stomach churning too much to actually be able to form words. 

“The same thing I’ve wished for every birthday since you came into my life. For you to see me as more than your best friend, for you to want me even half as much as I want you.” 

Your breath hitches at his words, you study his expression and see love, adoration, vulnerability in his eyes. Before you can respond, you feel the nausea taking over. You push out of Harry’s arms and run to the bathroom, You drop to your knees just in time to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. 

Harry is right behind you, kneeling down next to you, pulling your hair back with one hand, and rubbing your back in soothing circles with the other. “Shh, you’re okay Y/N, just let it out. You’ll feel so much better when it’s over.” 

When you’re finally finished throwing up you shift so that you;re sitting on the floor, your back resting against the wall. Harry grabs a washcloth and runs it under the water before bringing it to you and dabbing it on your forehead. “You know, you could have just said no. It doesn’t do great things for one’s self esteem to have a girl vomit the moment you declare your love for her.” He says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. 

You let out a small, weak chuckle. “Harry, I…” You whisper. 

“It’s just a joke, love. Let’s not talk about it right now, let me just take care of you, yeah?” He says kindly, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear as you nod in reply. “Good girl, now what do you need?” 

“Toothbrush…” 

He nods, and places a kiss on your forehead before standing up and getting your toothbrush, he puts a bead of toothpaste on it and kneels back down handing it to you. “Go easy, you don’t want to start anything back up.”

You look at him gratefully as you begin brushing your teeth. He watches on, as he strokes your hair to comfort you. 

“Is it weird that I think you look cute when you’re sick?” He asks, looking at you fondly. 

You let out a soft chuckle and shake your head as you continue to brush your teeth. 

His smile grows at the sound of your laugh. “I love that laugh, I’m glad I was able to get it out of you even when you’re feeling like this.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “I hate that you don’t feel good, but I love being able to take care of you. Especially when you’re so vulnerable like this, it shows how much you trust me, and that means everything to me.”

You look up at him as you brush your teeth, hoping your expression conveys all of the love and gratitude in your heart at that moment. You slowly stand up and make your way to the sink, where you spit and rinse. 

Harry is quick to get up and stand beside you, he takes in your blotchy complexion and messy hair, and it’s clear that you’ve still got a long way to go before you’re back to normal. “Still not feeling so great?”

You shake your head. “I told you I wasn’t going to be a good hang…”

Harry chuckles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m having a blast! C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.” He moves to put his arms around you as if he’s going to try to lift you.

“Harry, what are you doing?” You step back from his arms. 

“I’m carrying you to bed.” He says, confused. He thought it was pretty clear what he was doing. 

“I can walk, it’s fine. Nobody wins if you try to carry me.”

He furrows his brow and tilts his head. “What do you mean, nobody wins?”

You sigh, hating that you have to spell it out for him. “You’re not going to be able to lift me. You’re going to feel bad because you were wrong, and I won’t even be able to gloat about being right because I’ll feel bad about being fat.” 

“Hey,” Harry says sternly. “I told you never to say that about yourself.” You had always been self-deprecating, and Harry hated it. He wished you could see yourself the way he did, because he saw you as absolutely perfect and beautiful. 

You look down, embarrassed about the slip of the tongue. You had stopped saying it in front of Harry, but you hadn’t stopped believing it, so in your weakened state, you had let it slip my mistake. 

Harry slides a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze. “How about this? Let me try, if I can’t carry you to bed, I’ll clean up your whole apartment while you sleep. If I can, you have to cuddle in bed with me all day. Deal?” 

You roll your eyes and sigh, knowing he’s not going to let this go. “Fine.” 

Harry grins triumphantly and scoops you up with ease, carrying you bridal style down the hall and to your room, where he places you gently on the bed. He tucks you in before moving to the other side and slipping in next to you. “Told you so.” He says smugly. 

“Nobody’s ever been able to do that before.” You say in awe. 

He smiles and pulls you into him, laying your head on his chest. “I bet I can name three more things nobody else can do for you…” He kisses the top of your head. 

“Try me,” you mumble as you snuggle closer to him. 

“I can make you laugh when you’re at your worst, I can calm you down when you’re spiraling, and I can make you turn that adorable shade of red when I get flirty with you.” He chuckles. 

You sigh and nod your head against his chest, agreeing to all three statements. 

He squeezes you a little tighter, one hand coming up to stroke your hair. “And you do all those things for me. That’s why I think we’d be so amazing together. We bring out the best in each other, and provide comfort and support at our worst. I can’t think of anything more important in a relationship.” 

I hum thoughtfully, tears welling in my eyes at his words. He’s right, of course you’ve seen it all along, but the fact that he sees it too is overwhelming. I tilt my head and lock eyes with him. 

When he sees your watery eyes, his expression drops. “Oh, Y/N I’m sorry if I said too much. Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, I promise. Just don’t cry, okay?” He reaches down to cup your cheek, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. 

You shake your head rapidly. “No no no, I just… I never thought I’d hear you say this kind of stuff to me. I agree with you completely.”

Harry’s breath hitches at your words, a wide grin spreads across his face. “Yeah?” You grin back and nod your head. “So you’d be willing to give us a shot… as more than friends?” 

“Definitely.” You say without hesitation. 

He smiles softly and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I really want to kiss you, but I’m afraid you’ll throw up again, and my ego can’t take it.” He says lightheartedly. 

You giggle softly. “I get it. It’s okay, I feel too gross to kiss anyone right now anyway.” 

“What can I do for you right now?” 

“Um… I actually think I want to take a shower, but I can do that on my own.” 

Harry arches a brow and smirks slyly at you. “You sure I can’t help you?” 

You chuckle and slap his chest playfully. “Positive, you perv.”

“Fine, fine… how about this? While you shower, I’ll make you some breakfast, to help your tummy.” He runs his fingers through your hair, wanting nothing more than to take care of you. 

You smile and blush. “You don’t have to do that…”

“You’re my girl,” he pauses, letting the gravity of his words sink in, you both smile dreamily at each other. “It’s my job to take care of you.” 

“Your girl…” You sigh. 

He smiles as he stares down at your dreamy expression. “You alright?” 

“Yeah… actually, I’m suddenly feeling much better.” 

Harry chuckles, kissing you on the forehead. “Good, well you go shower and I’ll make you a nice breakfast, we’ll get you back to normal in no time.

You roll out of bed and make your way to the door. You throw one more glance over your shoulder, smiling softly at Harry. When your eyes meet, he blows you a kiss. In that moment, he can’t help but think that thirty could be his best year yet. 

[cocoakrispis-blog]

✭ 2. REDISCOVERING YOUR GENDER IDENTITY ✭

pairing ~ ellie williams x fem! reader

summary ~ (y/n) is actually quite confident in her gender identity but what happens when she and ellie are forced to partner up and figure some interesting concepts out.

warnings ~ homophobia, tones of a little bit of religious trauma,

wc ~ 2.4k words

SERIES MASTERLIST

the next day of camp was the beginning of your journey to “rediscovering our gender identity”.

this concept was one that you didn’t quite understand.

although this camp had made you loose a lot of the confidence you had in yourself this area was not one of them.

i mean you knew what you were.

a girl.

a girly girl at that.

girly girl that liked to do her own makeup, try out trendy new hairstyles, and wear the softest most pastel colors.

overall you presented very feminine and you were quite confident in your ability to do so.

so this step felt quite useless to you.

as of right now you guys were exploring the housewife part of being a women.

cleaning being the main subject.

you and dina were practicing vacuuming the floor alongside riley who was having a little bit more assistance from maria.

when you glanced up from your vacuum you noticed cat and ellie in the corner giggling about something.

you couldn’t believe that they weren’t even pretending to be semi interested in the lesson.

you felt your jaw clench in irritation and you quickly put your head back down to continue vacuuming and letting your mind wander.

being clean was something that you did out of habit.

you never found yourself doing it in your free time or when you were bored.

a sudden thought popped into your head making you shiver.

‘maybe that’s the problem maybe the normal girls love cleaning even if they didn’t have to’ you thought to yourself subconsciously.

maria eventually noticed cat and ellie not paying attention and decided to call everyone to the floor o that everyone would be forced to pay attention.

“since some of you can not seem to work on your femininity independently we will do this in a group setting.” maria gave cat and ellie a stern look.

“okay girls the number one most important rule to mastering a perfect vacuum job must be to be extremely precise and thorough.” the loud sound of the vacuum being turned on filled up the room.

“you must go in and out and in and out.” maria repeated the phrase over and over as she assisted riley in demonstrating the motion continuously.

something about the scene felt very intimate to you can you couldn’t help but feel your ears burn in response in embarrassment.

you discreetly looked to the other girls to see if maybe you were overreacting but everyone else except for ellie seemed to be having a bit more of an extreme reaction.

you watched as dina bit her lip seductively and cat licked her lips in an almost hungry way.

ellie seemed to be the only one not affected and just stared at the action with a clearly amused look.

the next activity you were doing was trying on wedding dresses.

this was by far your favorite thing you done so far.

you waited patiently from your turn to try on one of the gorgeous wedding gowns and nearly jumped for joy when it was your turn.

as a child you always dreamed of marrying your knight in shining armor in a beautiful gown and you thought it would be another couple years before you could experience it.

however here you were today in a long white gown being fawned over by the rest of the girls.

“wow (y/n) this dress was made for you.” dina complimented you for the 5th time since you had entered the room.

“thank you dina but i still feel like you looked prettier in your dress.” you felt your cheeks warm at her compliment.

“no you definently take the cake today (y/n) you just look like you were born to be in a wedding dress.” riley continued while cat surprisingly nodded along.

“you guys are so sweet.” you clutched the bouquet of flowers to your chest tight.

you had never felt more beautiful in your life and you didn’t want this moment to end.

the moment was ruined though when you realized the only one that wasn’t over there was ellie who was cutting up some paper in the corner.

after you had noticed that maria walked into the room to check on you guys.

once in her line of sight ellie proudly showed off the paper she had been cutting which revealed a paper chain of a bunch off girl is holding hands.

maria huffed before stomping off.

you didn’t understand ellie at all.

you didn’t understand why she had completely removed herself from the activity.

you didn’t understand why she wasn’t over there with the rest of you guys.

and you didn’t understand why she wasn’t showering you with compliments like everyone else.

did she have no desire to graduate this program and become normal again.

she was so confusing and you were completely clueless as to why it bothered you so much.

the last activity you did before taking a break was just to practice makeup.

this one easily slid its way into second place of your favorite activities.

makeup was such a fun way to express yourself and to be rewarded from doing it just made you feel ecstatic.

you finished your makeup much earlier than the other girls due to the fact that you had a lot more experience with it than the other girls.

when you looked up from your designated vanity you saw ellie and cat tucked away together in one of the chairs in the room while ellie playfully drew on cat’s arm.

the feeling that rose in your chest whenever you saw this was unfamiliar but you knew you didn’t like it.

what was so interesting about cat that made ellie want to spend all of her time with her?

you quickly shook your head to rid your brain of those thoughts and turned back to your vanity to see if there was any ways you could improve your already flawless makeup.

after a while of just staring at yourself in the mirror maria entered the room to tell you guys to change back into your uniform and meet her outside so you could have a small chat before lunch.

eventually you all made it over there and were now seated in a circle waiting for maria to begin this outside group therapy session.

“alright girls who is next to report on their root?” mary asked the group softly.

everyone simultaneously turned their head to face you.

you sighed when you felt all of their eyes on you and reluctantly gave a response.

“well i’ve been thinking really hard about what may be the root of my l-lesbianism but i can’t seem to come up with someone.” you twiddle with your finger awkwardly.

“i think pom poms over there is just to afraid to share hers with the group.” ellie rolled her eyes at your response.

“i am not ellie i really just haven’t come up with one what’s yours anyways?” you give the freckle faced girl what you considered a sassy comeback.

“pfft i don’t have to tell you my root i’m brave enough to own up to mine we’re the ones waiting on you to do the same.” ellie gives you a smirk.

you huff and prepare to respond until mary cuts into the tense conversation.

“well actually ellie i think it might be beneficial for (y/n) to be reminded of all of your roots to maybe make her realize what hers is.” maria gives ellie a tight smile. “why don’t you go first.”

“my mom got married in pants.” ellie gives what sounds like a sarcastic response.

everyone claps after she had shared hers and maria called on the next person to go.

“dina.”

“went to an all girls boarding school.” dina replied smoothly.

the group erupted in applause and then maria called on cat to go next.

“i was born in france.” cat sighed.

immidatkley after applause followed and finally it was riley’s turn.

“i like balls.” riley responded plainly.

you all clapped until it eventually died down.

“well thank you from that riley.” maria sent her a smile.

“you see how easy it is (y/n) all you have to do is dig deep down inside your mind right into those memories that cause you pain or sadness and find your root.” maria concluded the conversation.

“and now dina will you come up here.” dina followed her directions and stood up to stand next to her.

once dina was still next to her maia started up again.

“the next thing on the agenda today will be to experience one of the best things about the heterosexual experience.” she paused briefly to build suspense. “friendship!”

“so next i will need you guys to find a partner to be paired up with for the rest of the program.”

since there wasn’t that many of you getting a partner wasn’t too difficult.

however since there was an odd number of people dina was forced to partner with maria while riley and cat ended up together and you were stuck with ellie.

you weren’t sure hwy exactly cat and ellie didn’t decide to partner up together but you decided to not ask any questions because this now gave you a chance to study and maybe further understand the confusing brain of ellie.

“now that we all have your partners sometime later tonight i would like you to practice with these.” maria help up a deck of cards that looked different from anyone you had ever seen or played with before.

after dinner ellie called you over to practice the cards so that she could make quick work of it and go to sleep.

after that you found were maria had placed the cards, grabbed a deck, and took a seat across from eachother in the designated area where you were supposed to be practicing the cards.

you weren’t very sure on what you were supposed to be doing but held up a card to maybe kickstart the game.

the first card you held up was one with a red background and a woman throwing away trash with a bright smile on her face.

“it’s a lady.” ellie shot out the first thing that came to her mind.

“well uh yeah but what else.” you attempted to urge her to deepen her description.

“i don’t know.”

you rolled her eyes at her uninterested response and tried to help her out.

“she’s also a mother, a wife, and a daughter.”

ellie nodded along with an almost blank look on her face.

“once you learn about the important roles women have you can stop objectifying them.” you sigh softly.

“well have you done that?” ellie snatched the deck out of your hand to investigate them herself.

“i w-well i’m still trying to look for my root.” you stutter out a pathetic response.

“oh yeah must be so hard to think about other stuff when your princess brain doesn’t allow you to dwell on anything that isn’t dresses and makeup.” ellie hums rudely.

you gasp at the meanness of her words and defiantly cross your arms in front of your chest.

“i’ll have you know i’m actually very smart i make straight a’s in school.” you defend yourself to ellie even though she’s obviously not listening.

“it’s your turn.” ellie finally stops fiddling up the cards and shows you one she had obviously messed with.

the card displayed a very well developed women obviously rest out of the shower.

you squeak in shock once you process the picture and almost curse when you feel ellie pinch your arm hard.

“you’re gonna have to be more prepared for temptation in the real world (y/n).” elllie gives you a shit eating grin, obviously very pleased with her own little prank.

in that instance you wanted to do nothing more than slap ellie right across the face but decided to be more ladylike and opt for giving her a glare and stomping off to the sleeping quarters.

the next day you were continuing to work on the whole housewife lifestyle but it was more focused on childcare.

unfortunately it wasn’t similar to yesterday and there was a lot more lecturing involved and only one hands on activity.

after you had made it through the third and final lecture it was time to simulate changing a baby’s diaper using realistic baby dolls.

much to your dismay this activity required to use teamwork to work with your partner.

you were still quite upset at ellie for the way that she had treated you last night but did your best to try and start fresh today.

“make sure you work together with your partner to successfully put this diaper on because if you don’t manage the consequence may be quite inconveniencing i used food dye as the urine to raise the stakes a bit……” maria’s speech turned into background noise as you begun to argue with ellie.

“dude that’s the wrong tab.” ellie tried to snatch the diaper out of your hand.

“no it is not you’re the one doing it wrong can you just hold it still for me so i can handle this.” you snatch the diaper back from her.

you continued to go back and forth with the baby not even realizing maria had walked up to you two to reprimand you for all of the arguing.

while you wrestled the baby in between you two the pee ended up releasing and purple food dye splashed all over maria’s face.

once you saw the absolutely livid look on maria’s purple covered face you and ellie immediately looked at eachother and bit your tongues to hide the laughter.

“why don’t i go get you guys another doll.” maria sighs while attempting to wipe the color off of her face before turning around to retrieve another doll for your pair.

as soon as she left you and ellie looked at each other again and burst into a fit of giggles.

this was the first time you had heard ellie genuinely laugh and you were shocked at how soft and melodic it was.

you wanted to make her laugh again.

maybe getting partnered up with ellie wouldn’t be so bad.

a/n: i am actually so incredibly shocked that i ended up being able to finish this chapter i was so exhausted before starting this but i stil somehow managed to end up in through. we are finally getting somewhere with ellie and i am so excited to right more interactions between both of them. anyways thank you guys so much for the support on the series so far i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!!

taglist: @st4r-b3rries @dollyvuu @lvlymicha @jellyfishrnice @machetegirl109 @smiths-fan--13 @elliewilliamssrealgf @ravyaryn @yuhgetintoonit @nelzooo @luvmily @dearestdolly444 @venuzasmuse @madislament

[schrodingers-romy]

For a Minute in the Sunlight [Togame Jo x Tomiyama Choji x Reader]

Pairing: Togame Jo x Tomiyama Choji x GN!Reader Word Count: ~1100 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: A conversation between Jo and reader about Choji in the aftermath of the Shishitoren fight

Warnings: None, other than maybe one suggestive comment, no gendered pronouns or terms are used for reader, reader has known Choji and Jo for a long time and was a witness to their fights, written with aged up characters in mind but no real mention of their ages in text

Notes: I love their relationship and I want to snuggle them both. Tempted to make a sequel with choji in a speaking role. Title is a lyric from djo's Change

Series Page | Next

“Is it bad that I feel almost jealous of him?” you murmured.

The roof the three of you were sitting on had a beautiful view of the sky. Overhead, it was dark, but the horizon was still pale purple with the fading light of the sun. Even though you hadn’t done anything (other than white-knuckle your seat as you watched the others fight), you still felt a bone-deep tiredness. You desperately wanted rest, yet your mind was running too rapidly for you to even hope to sleep.

Choji did not share your troubles. After the physical and emotional stress of the day, he had started to wobble when the sun was still high in the sky; once you offered to let him lay his head in your lap, he drifted off in minutes to the gentle rhythm of your hand carding through his hair.

It was Jo who seemed to be in the same boat as you. His back had an even more defined slouch to it than normal, and his loose hair gave the air of someone ready to crawl into bed after a long day; but his eyes were still bright and alert.

“Of who?” he murmured.

“Umemiya.”

Jo let out an inquisitive hum, subtly prompting you to continue.

Your eyes broke from the horizon, turning instead to the boy in your lap as you collected your thoughts. Despite the scrapes and dirt on his face, Choji looked better than he had in a long time. At his worst, he slept for only a few scattered hours at a time; the lack of sleep did not help his erratic behavior in the slightest, but it was all he could manage with his restless mind. Now, he was completely relaxed, and looking all the brighter for it. Previously tight facial muscles had loosened, causing his face to melt into an expression that reminded you simultaneously of the Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile and the face of a satisfied, sleepy cat. You allowed your hand to drift from his wavy hair down, until your fingers were barely tracing the bridge of his button nose.

“I’m so happy he’s back,” you started.

Jo let out a shuddering breath. “Me too.”

“I am so, so glad he’s happy again. But. I don’t understand. Why it had to be him. To get Choji out of his…gloom, I mean. I’m glad he did, but—I hate that it was Umemiya. I hate that we weren’t enough,” you breathed. “I hate that we were with Choji, this whole time, and we couldn’t do what Umemiya could do in one fucking fight.”

Jo called your name quietly, but you continued on.

“I am so jealous of him, because he was what Choji needed. And we weren’t. Hell, who am I fooling, it’s because I wasn’t enough. At least you were fucking trying. I couldn’t do a single thing for him. And look where it got us.”

You fell silent. Your eyes were becoming wet, blurring Choji’s face; your throat was starting to burn, a tell-tale sign you were close to sobbing, but you gulped it back.

Jo spoke your name again, this time in a firmer tone. When you didn’t acknowledge him, he reached out, pinching your chin between two calloused fingertips and turning your head towards him.

His normal lazy expression was nowhere to be found; instead, he looked desolate. His luminous green eyes were damp, his dark brows were furrowed, and his mouth was pinched into a frown. He had shown more emotions in the last day than he had in ages, and the realization made you start to sniffle.

“Don’t take all the blame,” he murmured, holding eye contact as he spoke. “You weren’t his right-hand man...you don’t have the blood on your hands. Even through all this you were still good. I wasn’t.”

“Don’t put yourself down to make me feel better, Togame Jo,” you warned. You gave him your best serious face, which likely was ineffective given the tears beading in your eyes.

He chuckled. “Ehhh, okay. I’ll stop. Just for you, then.”

You gave him a wobbly smile back. It was nice to see him laugh once more in a way that wasn’t cruel.

“I know how you feel,” he said, voice serious. “I’m angry I couldn’t give Choji what he needed. But there’s nothing we can do…except be what he needs now.”

He said the last sentence firmly; there was a glint of determination in his eyes that made your heart lift.

“Promise me then. That we’ll both do our best for him,” you said.

“Of course. I promise.” Jo paused. “And I’ll do my best for you, too.”

“I’m going to take care of both of you, this time,” you said softly.

His next smile was so wide it caused his eyes to crinkle shut. “I look forward to it.”

He moved closer, until he could wrap one long arm around you and pull you to his side. You froze, at first, before letting out a sigh and melting into his comforting warmth. When you laid your head on his shoulder, he tilted his head to rest it on yours. His hand (the one not trapping your waist) moved to where yours had once been and began to stroke through Choji’s sandy hair.

You were so warm; surrounded by both of the people you cared for the most in the world. You could feel your eyes begin to droop, and your body lean into Jo’s more and more.

“Y’know,” you started, voice slurring from your exhaustion, “There’s another reason I’m jealous of Umemiya.”

“What?” Jo whispered, so low you could feel his voice rumbling through your body more than you could hear it.

“I kinda wish I was the one Choji bit.”

Jo’s subsequent bark of laughter was so sharp it caused Choji to shift in his sleep. You both stayed silent and still for a moment, but Choji just rotated until his face was pressed into your stomach before letting out a small snore.

Once the danger of waking Choji had passed, Jo spoke. “Me too,” he whispered. “Although, I would prefer it if he bit us in a slightly different context...”

Your heart stuttered. “Us?”

“Well, we’re all a package deal, right?” Jo turned his head enough to press the lightest of kisses to the top of your head.

It seemed like such a subtle culmination of everything you had felt for them for years now; but the proof that your affections weren’t unrequited (at least on one side) filled you with more warmth than any movie-perfect confession would have. If only because it was him. “Yeah,” you breathed. “We are.”

 You knew the three of you would need to have an actual conversation later, but it could wait until morning. For now, it was enough to drift to sleep on an abandoned rooftop, snuggled between the men you loved most.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Koushirou Izumi's clothing style - a meta analysis

When it comes to Digimon and fashion, you can tell that certain characters have - mostly consistent - preferences. Most obviously, every character has colours they are usually (but not exclusively) wearing, certain motives and symbols keep returning... And for some characters, their choice of clothes is - more or less - arc-defining.

While looking for references for some art pieces on Pinterest, I stumbled over one of my favourite Digimon Adventure 02 concept artworks:

We never see Taichi, Sora and Yamato wear their Summer uniform in the series and Koushirou literally only wears it in one episode - but looking at the ensemble here, there was something that caught my eye specifically. And this observation took me down a little rabbit hole in terms of what exactly Koushirou's style is, how it changes through the series - and what it may mean for his character as a whole in my humble opinion.

It simply felt like the perfect opportunity to post all these ideas as a contribution to @izumikoushiroweek 2024 and the prompt "Dressing Koushirou".

Adventure (+ Our War Game), age 10-11:

Analyzing Adventure won't take too long, because we don't have a lot of variety at this point - however, it still gives us the baseline for what we will have to expect for the entirety of the series.

Koushirou wears very "boyish" clothes that can be, more or less, considered to be common for a "computer nerd" in the 90s and early 2000s; wide, if not oversized button-down shirt (big emphasis here!), t-shirt, wide shorts, (colourful) sneakers. It's all "comfort over function" at this point, because, as pointed out, he seems to prefer wide clothes. While his signature (crest) colour is purple, his favourite colour appears to be orange, and there are usually lots of earth/nature tones too.

Honorable mention goes to his trademark Japanese school boy undercut hair with a middle parting, barely able to tame the spikyness.

So let's see what elements he will keep and what will change:

02 (+ Diablomon Strikes Back), age 13-14:

As mentioned, the concept art above was what inspired to make this post in the first place - because I couldn't help but notice his pants there. If you compare the way he wears the Summer school uniform to the way Taichi and Yamato wear it, three things come to mind:

The older boys wear the shirt very casually, whereas Koushirou has tugged it in - which is definitely a change to how loosely he wore his button-downs before.

Taichi and Yamato also don't wear ties in comparison to Koushirou. So far so good, these are the most obvious aspects...

And then there are the pants - which are particularly less "form fitting" than it is the case for Taichi and Yamato. Considering how he used to wear wide shorts in Adventure before, one may think that this is related to "comfort over form" again, but it collides a little with how "correctly" he wears the rest of the uniform. So my assumption here is: In one of the dramas he mentions "one of the female 5th graders in computer club who is taller than me" and we can definitely assume that he was referring to Miyako there. He says that he is "working very hard" to catch up... Which leads me to believe that he wears wide pants in anticipation of getting a growth spurt. Which is not only practical in general - but would also spare him/his mom the stress of constantly buying new uniforms.

In sum, we learned that he is the only male character in the entire season who wears his uniform correctly - with the spunky shoes being the only glimpse of "individualism" there. This is an interesting contrast - and will actually turn out to be quite a pattern for him: When it comes to important duties and business, he will make sure to wear his clothes appropriately and neatly (which, at this point, is important if you consider him taking so much responsibility for the 02 kids as their team mom dad). Outside of that, we still see the habit of wearing more comfortable clothes:

Koushirou definitely likes to wear layers (similarly to but not in the same way as Taichi btw), the good old button-downs or hoodies over shirts in particular, it's all very cozy and simple - and while he hasn't completely abandoned his associated colour orange, he seems to have adopted a second favourite colour to his wardrobe as an addition to the earth tones: Green. We later learn that his mother used to buy the clothes for him, so based on her excited expression in the first shot, watching him put on his green school uniform blazer for the first time, they may have realized how well the colour complements his red hair. The wide shorts and pants are also still there and he also seems to prefer basic long-sleeves (and stripes) at this point (which may or may not have been inspired by his own Digimon partner's colour schemes, very sneaky).

Last but not least we have the hairstyle - he's been growing out the undercut to even everything out and starts the season off with a VERY short cut and a side-parting. Very neat and, at first glance, very easy to tame, since the spikes are a lot shorter at this point. The side parting did not last for long though, so the middle-parting returns through the course of the season and he also grows it out a little.

Overall, the dichotomy of "business serious-casual" and "comfy-cozy" is already coming through, but we haven't come to the heavy lifting yet:

Tri (+ the Stageplay), age 16:

As I have briefly pointed out in the intro, for some characters, fashion is an arc-defining factor. For teenage!Koushirou, his interest in fashion is basically a B- or C-plot that - in my opinion - could have been handled in better ways, but I will get to that.

First of all, let's start with the "easy stuff": Hair and uniforms.

His way of wearing his uniform hasn't changed much from 02; he is still wearing blazer, shirt and tie "correctly" - but his pants are not as wide as they used to anymore, as can be seen on the promo art I have used above. (Since he has surpassed Mimi in height and is basically as tall as Sora, he may not expect to grow much further, so he probably chose more fitted pants at this point.)

The hair, especially the spikes and middle parting, are still pretty much the same and thus - probably - still very difficult to tame. It's notable that he has grown it out more in comparison to 02 though.

Now onto his private wardrobe: We see him confiding in Takeru, telling him that now that he goes to high school, he intends to pick clothes for himself, but... Shopping has proven to be quite difficult for... Various reasons. So instead, he created a software to generate outfits for him, with... Varying degrees of success. So through the course of the first few movies, it's heavily implied that he's making use of that software and also Takeru's advice - who appears to be a little bit of a mix between a "k-pop-fanboy / hobby-novelist with a Starbucks order in hand" and "an absolute fashion disaster" himself, but he seems to enjoy being Koushirou's wingman and assumes that his sudden interest in fashion stems from him wanting to impress Mimi.

And this is where things get a little more complicated. I will not go into too much detail about why I think that this was the wrong approach for his arc, because I have already talked about it in full length here. To summarize it very shortly: Koushirou's arc had ALWAYS been about him learning to be himself. That him being the way he is is perfectly fine and that he doesn't have to hide his true self - being adopted, smart, into computers, with all his flaws and quirks, whatever it may be. Him trying to bend over backwards to impress somebody else contradicts his arc and the only reason to include it at this point is for him to come to the same conclusion again. Of course there are underlying insecurities all over the place - especially since he actively seeks Mimi's approval. The school festival should have culminated in a scene in which he and Mimi - dressed up in a costume that was heavily criticized before, thus criticizing Mimi's way of being as well - should have had a talk that went along the lines of: "You know what? It doesn't matter what you wear, as long as you are comfortable." (Which... In itself leaves room for a lot of subtext as well, but I will get to that by the end of the post.)

So long story short, what we see through the course of the first three movies is him being quite experimental: Overalls, wild patterns like koi karps, lots of layers and a peculiar interest in bowties... He also adds several new colours to his arsenal, reds, blues, even his signature colour purple makes a prominent appearance. All for the sake of appearing "less plain", and to have more variation in his style.

While he has abandoned shorts from his wardrobe at this point, he - just like Taichi - likes to wear 3/4 length pants. One style of clothing he hasn't abandoned is his button-down shirts and (open) collared shirts in general. This has been a constant so far and I doubt that we will ever see it change, since they basically feel like "comfort clothes" for him. The interesting part here is, like we discovered before, the consistent contrast between "private" and "important occasions/business settings":

Once he's out with his parents for their anniversary, once he shows up at the school festival in a whole suit, once he wears his school uniform: He WILL wear the (bow-)tie correctly, the collar will be tight, the shirt will be tugged in, no funky shoes either.

Once he's in a private, less "official" setting, the collar will be more loose (!), the shirt will (most likely) be pulled out of his pants, the style will be more comfy, the shoes will be more "funky."

We've seen that since 02 already and it's nicely represented in Tri as well - the stageplay even dared to merge two of his outfits from the first Tri movie, a casual and a serious one, to create the perfectly "nerdy" mix for him: (Shortened) Shirt and vest from the anniversary (with an open collar and without the bowtie), 3/4 pants and yellow sneakers from the "let's look for distortions" scene. So we can tell - he DOES have preferences and may not even need a software to tell him what he naturally gravitates towards!

So let's fast forward a few years to see how it'll all develop...

Kizuna (+ The Beginning), age 21-23:

Unfortunately, we don't really get a glimpse of his private wardrobe as a young adult - but we can still be pretty sure that the patterns we spotted before are still going strong:

First of all, it can be assumed that he stopped experimenting for the most part: The hairstyle went back to the roots, for whatever reason he returned to his elementary school undercut, the middle parting and spikes are still there, but less wild. The associated colour orange also returns - and even makes its way into his business wardrobe, as he is back to wearing neckties instead of bowties.

That aside, we mainly see him in his work attire as the boss of his own tech company: White shirt with the orange tie and a closed collar (short-sleeved in Summer, long-sleeved in Autumn), black pants + brown belt, black business shoes.

And once again: Depending on his surroundings, the difference in how he presents himself is still intact to some degree: The outfit is still the same, but once he's just with his friends, shirt and pants appear to be wider again, whereas they seem to be more tailored once he is in "business mode" - this can be seen in particular in The Beginning, where he function as PR Digimon expert and gives interviews to the media.

Long story short: He kept his dichotomy alive for the majority of the series.

The epilogue, age 38:

Even the epilogue shows us that he could never give up the wide, collared shirts (wide collar, no tie, pulled out of the pants!) in nature tones after all. The most notable part here is probably the hair - not only did he grow it out to the point that the spikes vanished almost completely (aside from the long, pointy bangs), but he apparently managed to FINALLY get the side-parting going after all.

Final thoughts (and a few headcanons):

I've once conducted a whole post on how I felt like Koushirou broke a few gender stereotypes in interesting ways for a series that was created in the 1990s and early 2000s (and not only because he was the only male character who basically never had a male voice actor or because 02 basically turned him into "the mom" of the group). I feel like it's no coincidence that his arc and the way it is portrayed actually speaks to a lot of people who consider themselves as neurodivergent, non-binary or trans. It's a story of self-acceptance, about someone who used to question his whereabouts, who didn't know where he came from, who he was. He didn't consider himself to have much "worth" aside from being a human extension of his laptop and also tended to mask his insecurities (at least in front of his parents) with a polite and very correct demeanour.

The way fashion is interwoven into it all may not have been conducted perfectly, but the fact that it is tied to self-discovery still leaves room for interpretations and headcanons. While his personal clothing style has always been rather "boyish" (and not feminine in the slightest), him gravitating towards oversized clothing in private settings while conforming (!) to a very correct and neat dressing style for important occasions still is a curious contrast in this regard. Hiding behind his computer, hiding behind a software to tell him how to dress (and being uncomfortable going shopping physically), hiding his generally slender body behind (mostly) wide clothing because he may - or may not - experience something along the lines of gender-dysphoria is a headcanon that a lot of people can relate to. Especially if you take Tri overall as a metaphor for him figuring out "his preferences" (in both sexuality and gender and thus the scene in which he looks at a kimono - presumably made by Sora - will forever live rent-free in my head, especially because it is a more feminine piece this time).

In the end, it can all be just a matter of perspective - the most likely explanation is that he simply prefers comfort in private settings, but can easily adjust towards a "serious business mode" whenever the situation requires it. Through the course of the series, you may argue that the characters that had the most influence on his casual style were Taichi (layers), Mimi and Takeru (being a little more experimental). On the other hand, you may also take Tri as your average "the nerd cannot talk to women and doesn't know how to dress, so he makes disastrous choices" trope and call it a day. But personally, I feel like, since Koushirou does have obvious preferences that are mostly consistent, it really is more a period of self-exploration. And like I said before: I wish the outspoken conclusion for him had been: "As long as you feel comfortable, you can wear whatever you want."

[luvxoxo]

Q. how does one get over their first love?

synopsis: asking jjk men personal questions that they have to answer honestly

part 2 of my: jujutsu kaisen interview series

includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Megumi, Yuji

Gojo: "over their first love?” he takes a moment to answer. It is a difficult question. he turns his head away, seeming a bit troubled. Gojo eventually smiles warmly and speaks up "sometimes, you don't. you hold on to that love your entire life, despite how much it may hurt. It's... a bit like a scar, don't you think? you never lose the physical reminder of their presence" he smiles "but, over time, that scar becomes a bittersweet memory. while there may be pain attached to it, there is also happiness. I don't think you'll ever truly get over your first love. you’ll always hold a place for them in your heart. you’ll always have hope that things will work out, that you'll get back together, etc. It may not seem like much of a consolation, but that's the truth. and it's far more meaningful than trying to forget about your first love. they shouldn't be forgotten at all, even by the passage of time"

Geto: he crosses his arms "that’s a rather tricky question" he’s quiet for awhile before answering "the best way to get over one's first love, in my opinion, is to realize that the 'first love' they had, was merely an experience, and does not define who they are or the future relationships they may have. It will take time and patience. a lot of it. time to heal and understand that it was the past and the future awaits to be written. patience is needed to wait for that future and not to dwell on past relationships"

Geto tucks a few strands of hair that managed to escape behind his ears. he speaks softly

"and, do be kind to yourself in this hard and tough journey. the path to love is never easy. no matter what others tell you"

Nanami: he takes a second to think and starts speaking in a slower, more contemplative tone. "getting over one's first love can be very difficult or very easy depending on the person. it is usually the first case. but at the same time, the person you first fell in love with can leave a mark and memory for the rest of one's life. this does not mean you should let this person hold you back from any of the other relationships, opportunities, etc, that may come. in other words, letting go and growing is an important step for your next stage in life. and again, life doesn’t really stop for anyone" he pauses to add on "it’s everyone’s first life. you’re human. you’ll heal. you’ll let go. you’ll be okay"

Toji: he rests his arms on the sofa and smirks "find someone new to love. duh. there are plenty of fish in the sea you know?"

hearing his response your eyes can't help but twitch in annoyance "pardon me?"

Toji exhales loudly, almost as if you're the one being difficult "alright I'll be serious. the first love is always the hardest, but it’s important to remember that it doesn’t always have to be that way. sometimes, the key is accepting that the relationship wasn't meant to be. sounds harsh but life’s even more harsh. sometimes, you have to let go of that first love so you can move on to something better"

you nod eagerly, urging him to not stop and finish his thoughts

"but don't be afraid to fall in love again. yes, it’s gonna hurt if it doesn’t work out, but if you’re always afraid of it happening, then you’ll never know if there was something better for you. just be sure to use your head before you decide to open your heart again"

Megumi: he blinks and ponders about the question deeply in his head "a first love is a difficult and complicated experience. It can be difficult to let go, especially after you've shared so many memories and experiences together. however, it's important to remember that even if the relationship didn't work out, that doesn't mean they weren't important or that you need to erase them from your mind. Instead, accept the situation for what it is and work on creating new bonds that can fill the void left after the breakup. It may take time and effort" he nods firmly "but eventually the pain from that first love will subside. and you’ll be alright"

Yuji: he grips his chin, thinking seriously "well, i guess you don’t really get over it. you learn to live with it. you learn to accept that things ended for a reason and that love isn’t something that’s meant to last forever most of the time. enjoy the time you have with the person you love, even if they aren’t the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. that love is a good memory to have, so don’t ruin it" he smiles before saying "and also? if they leave you? let them. you deserve someone who wants to stay. and will stay. dont let anyone make you think otherwise!"

ⓒ all rights reserved. don't plagiarize my work or translate it!

Reblogs are appreciated!!

[i99zhuo]

How to live like tzuyu 💿˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

This is a guide on daily routines inspired by Chou Tzuyu! requested in the last post, thank you for your request hope you like it!

content list (routines):

morning 

study

workout 

shower and self care 

night

(_ _  ) . . z Z⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨ :★: ୧   ∗  ˖࣪ ໒꒱  ˚₊· 

✸ ꒰ morning routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ 

🥽 Tzuyu wakes up super early every single day, having a regular sleep schedule (sleep and wake up at the same time everyday) can help us be less stressed and it's super helpful when you want to build multiple routines! you can set an alarm at night time if you struggle going to sleep because you're always mindlessly scrolling!

Now, it's time to get ready, wash both your hands and face and just apply moisturizer and sunscreen, wearing to much skincare products before applying base makeup products may make them look super patchy, if you want to do a really long 10-step skincare routine you have to do it the night before!

🦡 the key for Tzuyu´s makeup is to have a clean base makeup and changing the color of her lips, see, she's so gorgeous that she doesn't need much to look super cute, the main steps of her makeup is to use concealer and bb cream to unify her skin tone and the use a light lipstick as base and then add a more colorful tint, she does this to make bright pink shades work for her dark lips. Other makeup steps are completely optional and up to your needs!

✸ ꒰ study routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ 

Tzuyu was the kind of student to always doze off and sleep in class, even though this isn't necessarily good, getting rest it's still an important thing to do! So when you get from school you can take a nap instead of studying right away. Once you wake up you can do a little review on what you learn today and emphasize on things you didn't understand in class.

🪨 Also, buying super cute school supplies can help you be at least more motivated to study or to pay attention in class!

✸ ꒰ workout routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ 

There are videos of Tzuyu using a vibrating platform as a ´workout´ however it isn't clear if these devices actually work or not. 

🥄 What you can do whatsoever is to start warming up before doing cardio or a dancing session, then you can do other kind of workouts to slim and tone up areas like your arms, abs, waist and legs

Finally you can do some stretching for your back and upper body to get a perfect posture and a defined collarbone like her.  

⚽️ Additionally, Tzuyu’s favorite subject at school was P.E! So you can start practicing some other kind of sport like volleyball!

✸ ꒰ shower and self care routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ 

Instead of showering we are going to take a bath with warm water. Bathing, especially in the evening, can help you relax after a long day. Also, it's much better for your face to not be in direct contact with hot water and just get your pores open lightly with the steam. After bath you can wash your face and put on a sheet mask! tzuyu even puts on a silimask, this is a silicone mask that will help you keep the sheet in place while doing other stuff and make the serum of the mask absorb better!

✸ ꒰ night routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ 

🗻 Her night routine is not clear however you can stretch again like other twice members do or just sit in your bed and scroll through social media, just make sure to have a perfect posture while doing it, having a good posture is basically a habit, so try  practicing having one as often as you can! 

heyyy I finally finished my requests, I can't believe it!

I never realize how long it really takes me to write these posts

right now im going to be re-opening my requests but im going to be focusing mainly on my new glow up series that im pretty sure it takes less time to write so you guys can have new content more often

ajdksjdjsd thats all

toodlezzzzz!!!!!1!

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 7}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The Mandalorian is in mental turmoil as you begin to revert back to behavior similar to when he first captured you. Infuriatingly polite, only speaking when spoken to, asking after everything should he disapprove of something, keeping the distance that had slowly become an afterthought between you both. All to ensure that when he turned you in, it wouldn't feel like you were losing anything. The tentative connection between you two already has its clutches in your very soul and makes you crave, but that could only be a bad thing, right?

Word Count: 8.1K

Warnings: sexual themes, slight voyeurism (no direct infringement of consent), physical touch, sexual thoughts, pining, mutual pining, mental gymnastics, canon typical violence, canon typical death (of minor characters), fighting, battle, raiders, walker tank attack, brief mention of past sexual abuse (not detailed), mutual pining, these two are so inept at communication

A/N: this chapter officially sets the tone for the rest of the fic! i'm so excited to share this one with y'all, some things are finally moving along and it's about time, no?

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

You held a trembling Child to your middle, shielding him with your cloak to make him feel as best as you could while the sounds and shouts of fighting were loud all around. The children around you clung and huddled around you were you sat on the ground with your back to the entrance of the home. Omera had opened it up to you and the children to hide in during the fight. Winta was leaning the entire front line of her body against your back, her arms around your neck and her face buried in your hair. You shushed them every so often, hoping to sooth them with the way you were keeping calm and collected.

They were afraid, they had never faced anything like this. It would be a defining moment in their lives, and you wished they took from this what they could to help them develop into strong, smart adults that always looked out for themselves and what was theirs.

All was calm for a moment, the retreating raiders disappearing into the darkness of the forest. The sounds of fighting ceased and shadows played along the walls of the home, cast from the small fires that had cropped up. You reached out with a mental tether, getting a reading of the energy around the village, eyes closed as you concentrated. The sound of something pinging in the back of your searching mind, faint. But it was there and it was large, the threat. And it was headed straight for the village, surely they were all at the crest of their abilities with the first wave of the attack. You were carefully standing, making sure not to jostle the children clustered around you as you whispered to them that everything was going to be okay, that you were going to make sure they were okay. You handed a trembling Child to Winta, offering her the most calm and comforting smile you could before you exited the home.

The Mandalorian and Cara shared a look and then a chuckle as they waded in the pond. The water was cool even through the flight suit and armor he was donning, but it was a welcome relief compared to the adrenaline that had spiked his temperature as he fought and led the villagers. Everything seemed to be okay, but then the mechanical sound of another walker was fast approaching, breaking trees in its wake as it neared the village. The rumble of its steps was loud, the firing of its guns even more so as another structure was taken out. Before either warrior could climb out of the pond or the villagers could reposition themselves for another wave of fighting, the walker was clearing the tree line.

A cloaked form was weaving through the structures clustered together, advancing while everyone was still recovering from the fighting and not reacting fast enough. You were running as fast as you could, having left the children in the care of some villagers that had rushed to check on them, the second things looked clear. The explosion and subsequent loud crash of the walker had urged you to leave your post, worried for everyone who had chosen to fight.  

The guns atop the walker whirred as they tried to settle their aim on your swift form, picking you out as the threat since everyone was shocked into stillness. But your lightsaber was engaged, and you confidently shielded any hits from the large blaster with it, they pinged off of the humming blade before dissipating completely. The white of it overpowering the red, angry blasts aimed down at you. One hit was too fast for you, and you ducked out of the way effortlessly, twirling on your feet to send your cloak furling out with the motions.

Your expression was focused, brow furrowed, and lips closed in a determined line, shown in the passing light of the blaster shots and the movement of your own weapon. Visible to those that were watching on, too caught off guard to do much themselves. Or in the case of the Mandalorian, curious to see what you were capable of now that you had gained your health and strength back.

As the operator quickly grew tired of you, the walker lurched forward only to come to a creaking halt, the sound of metal grating on metal loud in the night and prompting nearly everyone to shield their ears.

Loud cursing could be heard from within the walker as it seemed frozen in place, mid-step with one leg raised while the other was still planted to the ground. You had planted your own feet not too far away from it, directly in front of it, and held out a single hand up in the air, palm wide and fingers spread as you harnessed the Force to help keep the machinery in its spot and from advancing any further. The villagers seemed to be in shock, not knowing what they were witnessing. Beside him Cara was equally as spelled as she was halfway out of the pond and focused on your form.

The Mandalorian felt a rush of pride at your actions garnering awed attention.

The walker was strong, but you were nearly healed and angry. Angry that these raiders were targeting this small village. You harnessed that energy flowing through you into keeping the walker still, the Force stronger than the machinery. It began to spark at the joints, the wiring overheating with the energy containing it. As it did so, the leg that was held up in the air jerked back down to the ground and you were rushing forward the second it did so.

Your blade hummed as you took out the legs, easily cutting through the metal with a high singing vibration. As it began to tumble backwards, you jumped up the legs and then the bottom of the cabin in long strides. You locked your knees to keep your balance and avoid getting thrown off it as it crashed to the ground. The glass of the windows was being broken and a figure emerged from within, they were about to crawl away and down the side of the fallen walker, but they froze as you raised your hand out toward them.

They beg and plead as they lay out on their back, but you’ve got them held with the power of the Force, your hand held up slightly as they lay sprawled atop the machine. It was almost a lazy motion as you flicked your wrist and they rolled. These kind  people didn’t deserve the fear and terror that had been instilled into their peaceful way of life. And the figure in front of you was going to pay for playing a part in that. They lunged at you, breaking through the control you had let go of, and you took them out with a smooth motion of your saber. The hum of it paired with the raiders shout loud in the waning chaos.

The Mandalorian raised his visor to look over and sees the look of pure power on your face, the glow of the saber illuminating your focused features in the dark. He felt his chest warm at the way you seemed more alive than he had seen as of yet, at the sheer ease of you taking out the machine and then the fleeing operator. He felt guilt flash for the way you had been treated, how he had treated you when first meeting. You were strong, skilled, highly intelligent, but broken, he realized. By a world that saw the same things and wanted to squash that, to control it. He didn’t want to play a part in that any longer. He had to tell you that you were no longer going to be under his charge, but he had no idea how you were going to react to that. Surely you wouldn’t want to stay with him, travel with him, share the same space with the Child…with him.

“Jatne vod,” The Mandalorian watched as you approached him, the handle of your saber glinting in the sun as he stood just outside the entrance to the barn. “Some of the villagers are going to trade in town tomorrow and I would like to go.”

It was the most you’ve said to him in weeks. You hadn’t allowed him to help tend to your scrapes from the battle or your larger, your now healed one from Nevarro. You hadn’t sought him out in the days after the battle, opting to help the villages work on the ponds and fix the damage caused to their homes.

Keeping to yourself or small conversations with Cara that didn’t yield anything as deep as that first night there in the village. You would smile and joke with the villagers, hands deep in the ponds helping to keep them clean and harvesting what was ready from them. You had taken to wearing just your outfit, the beautiful cloak gifted to you neatly folded atop your cot in the barn. One of the head coverings, something akin to a cool weather beanie had been gifted to you to help shield your head from the sun, but it was obvious your skin had tinted even more so. Despite the hat protecting you from direct sunlight and heat, the blue and green fabric of it woven so beautifully, freckles had dotted the tops of your shoulders and the bridge of your nose in faint decoration. You had taken up braiding your hair in the mornings, to help keep it out of the way and easier to pull the hat on to work.

Often asleep by the time he returned to the barn after nightfall and his routine surveillance of the surrounding forest. Tending to the Child with the help of Omera, who you didn’t speak to unless spoken to. The Mandalorian got the sense that you were uncomfortable around the woman, but for what reasons he couldn’t decipher. He hadn’t been so forthcoming with information about himself since that first day, opting to let the woman speak as she wanted and was polite in return. She did seek him out often, with and without the company of her daughter but it was all polite despite the looks he would catch her aiming his way. Her looks didn’t elicit the same coiling of something in his stomach or flutter to his chest that yours did. Or had, you barely managed to raise your eyes to the cuirass over his chest these days.

Heat blooms up your neck and to your cheeks, your tongue numb as it feels heavy in your clenched mouth. Nervous energy pinging inside your body causing you feel like a visitor in your own body, as if you weren’t really in it but watching the interaction from above. The man’s harsh stare you could feel through the material of his helmet, beating into you through the visor aimed directly at your face. You couldn’t look at him, too many emotions fighting for purchase inside your body, your heart thudding painfully against your ribs as you wait for his response. You know that you’ve been being distant, pushing him away even though there wasn’t much to dispel in terms of interaction. You had simply cut off his efforts to help care for your injuries, eradicated the chances for him to observe you in close quarters, get a further read on you than he already did. Trying to preserve your sense of self before it was lost to the man in front of you and he would be the only lifeline to feeling like a person, to feeling things that were human yes, but wrong for you in this life.

The realization dawned on you that you hadn’t actually asked him to go and perhaps that had annoyed him, despite his previous words to you all those weeks ago. A twitch hurt the nerves in your hands as you tried to resist the urge to clench them in front of you, keeping them motionless at your sides. It took far too much effort to clear your throat to speak again, properly, “May I go, jatne vod?”

A heavy exhalation sounded from him, and you weren’t sure what to make of it, but you knew that you had messed up somehow. The crinkling of his own hands, protected by leather gloves gave that away, made it an obvious display. Mind and body supplied the memory of when he had thrown a strike at you, that first day on his ship once it had been repaired and taken to space. The phantom pain of the cut that had appeared on your cheek and the thump of your body on the floor of the hold space slammed into you and worried you it would be repeated as his hands clenched before you now. His words could only go so far, you mused, the rising panic of having set him off washed away when his hands went up to burrow in his pockets. The helmet nodded and you bowed in response before disappearing for the day.

The sun was just beginning to set when the Mandalorian made an early return to the cabin. He was approaching the structure when through the slightly open window he caught a glimpse of the sun casting an alluring shadow. You must’ve been in front of a mirror provided by the villagers, as your entire silhouette was displayed on the canvas hanging up as a makeshift door over the entrance. The Mandalorian could see it through the opening in the window, the way your body turned this way and that before you stood still and began to slowly run your hands up and down the hourglass curve of your body. You had put on some more healthy weight, the meals provided for the village helping you to heal and get back from the brink of starvation.

You seemed to be contemplating that as your hands lightly caressed what looked like your bare skin, hands delicately tracing things along your body he couldn’t see and would never get the chance to. Your loose hair was moving in the slight breeze winding its way through the clearing the village was in, sending a wave of the scented shampoo you must’ve gotten in the town at some point since that night of fighting. You turned just a little and it allowed for the shadow of your chest to come into view along the canvas, your hands hesitantly coming up to press them to your chest, as if you were uncomfortable with them being unclothed.

He heard the heavy sigh you heaved as you did so, your hands falling from your frame and frantically reached for a shirt to tug over your body, hiding it from view. Your shapely silhouette turned into an amorphous one as the shirt was large over your frame, but that didn’t deter the Mandalorian’s attention as you picked up the collar of the shirt and brought it up to your nose and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent that must’ve lingered in the fabric.

With a rush of heat washing over his face and a stirring in his lower abdomen, he realized that the shirt must’ve been his as you let out a weary sigh before turning to lay atop your cot.

You were feeling…more like yourself. Or more like the version of yourself that you recalled from before returning home, traveling all those years under the cover of stealth, and fueled by the desire to return to a place you thought would welcome you in the aftermath of the attach on the temple and the purge of all others like you. The village here had been a good call, the planet, the acceptance of the job to help eradicate the threat to these sweet people. It had all been a good call. You were tired though, a different kind of tired than from healing or fighting or running. You were tired in the sense that your body was sore from a day’s worth of work, farming and harvesting to help the villagers further.

You were standing in front of a mirror provided to you in the barn. Omera thinking you would appreciate one, it was small, but it was casting sun glares around the cabin from the setting rays that had snuck their way into the space that had become something akin to home the past few weeks. Your body was feeling more like your own and you had taken up looking at yourself in the mirror, trying to recognize consciously that you were not just a headspace floating through the muck of drugs and abuse that you had endured one and off for all those years. For nearly your whole adult life.

The healthy weight you had put on signified that you were taking care of yourself, that food was plenty, you were okay, you were healed, you were safe.

And along with that came the sensations of things you had long forgotten.

Feeling the warmth of the day on your skin, the sense of appreciation for a space to return to at the end of the day, the satisfaction of a day spent being productive. Caring for the Child, meditating with the Child, feeding him, and playing with him brought you a sense of joy you thought would never grace your life again and you smiled as you thought about the small being. Watching the way your lips tilted upwards, showing the dimples you had when you did so.

Thoughts of the Child also brought up thoughts of the Mandalorian…

You had been having dreams again, though some of them were…more salacious than you’d care to admit even to yourself. You’d wake in the middle of the night with a throbbing between your legs, heat sparking low in your abdomen, the need to feel touch on your skin that wasn’t your own. It was both exhilarating and devasting. The trauma you had with that kind of stuff chases away by the phantom feeling of comforting hands time and time again. The hands in your dreams were large and warm, bronze skin a sight that would always make your unconscious mind reel and lose itself to the thoughts of what they could do, how they would feel. Your mind tried to supply those thoughts after sensations deep in the night, under the cover of darkness. To eradicate them, you had taken to practicing meditation again, something that had once been a daily routine at the temple and even long after to help you focus on survival and staying hidden from anyone who posed a threat. Even in the early days of the return to your home planet…

Practicing with the lightsaber had quickly won over meditation most nights. Harnessing that errant energy into something rather than laying in bed awake and letting it consume you in the worst way, your mind running circles around things you’d rather not give life to. You tried to stay close to the cluster of homes, but you would often delve into the trees and back to that clearing if it was close enough to the morning hours that you found yourself awake. You felt most like yourself with the saber in your hands, engaged or not. The Mandalorian had just aimed his visor at you when you tried to return it after the battle. No words were spoken but he had refused to take the offered weapon back, so you had taken to carrying it with you as you had always done in the times you were on your own…and free.

Fingers tracing lightly over the curves of your sides as you contemplated the way of life you were currently leading, the barn warm and comfortable on the inside while the sun washed over it from the outside. Your fingers were feather light across your skin, you had just bathed, washing away the day of helping harvest once again. Today had been wrapped up with the task of loading as much krill into burlap sacks before placing them inside time worn barrels for transport to the town tomorrow for trade.

Cloying heat flared in your middle, flashing hot and making you a little dizzy. The faint sensation of a hand much larger than your own pressed to your skin washed over your memory and you turned in the mirror, bringing your hands up to grasp as the weight of your chest. You simply felt the soft skin of your breasts, body bare in the privacy of the barn as you readied for an early night. Pressing them flush to your body, the give of plush give of them felt…good, though you were hesitant to give into the feeling much more than this. The thought of doing anything else to help relieve yourself of the thoughts and sensations your body had been seeking in the safety of dreams was too embarrassing and shameful for you to follow through on.

You remove your hands as if burned by your own skin, betrayal flaring as fingers reached over to the cot where clean clothes had been laid out and tugged a shirt on roughly. It was large, long sleeved, comfortable, his. And you hid yourself in the blankets to avoid having to face the man whose touch you were craving.

Things felt different when your small group returned from the town the following day. Something had happened.

You pushed yourself from the moving speeder the second it broke through the protection of the trees and into the clearing of the village. The ponds weren’t being tended to, the villagers were all gathered around the barn, helping to move cases and trunks that had been stored within to the porch. The Mandalorian’s armor caught the sunlight and you were walking straight to him, ignoring everyone who was milling about.

The Child was in his arms, bundled in the blanket and trembling. The other children that had previously been milling about were nowhere to be seen.

“We’re leaving at nightfall, we’ve been tracked here.” The man’s voice spoke as you neared him, answering the question you were sure was displayed in the furrow of your brow. You held your hands out in a silent request and he handed the Child over to you. A soft cooing falling from your lips as you cradled him and gazed into the eyes that were peering up at you with so much conflicting emotion. He was scared but he was comforted by being surrounded by the two people he knew and trusted the best.

You just nodded, keeping your own thoughts on the matter to yourself. Going along with what the Mandalorian deemed the appropriate move. There really was no reason for you to say anything or share your thoughts about the situation. He had decided the second the threat showed itself and found him out, on the other side of the coin this time around.  

Nightfall was a few hours away, the villagers gathering the necessary supplies to make a farewell dinner.

You opted to hide away, knowing that the focus would be on the others, on the Child. The attention would be too much for you to endure, wanting to keep to yourself and protect yourself from the attachment you’ve developed against this small village. You had the tendrils of fear beginning to take over your senses and warp your sense of self, suspicion of the Mandalorian continuing on your return once back on the ship.

Cara found you in the clearing you had taken up for your training, just before the sun fully set. She told you that she was going to be making her way to the town, while you and the Mandalorian would be taking the land speeder straight back to the ship, it had been decided while you had been hiding away.

“I’ve grown to like you, I hope the Maker allows us to meet again.”

“It was an honor to fight alongside you, cyar'ika.” You bowed to her, leaning into her space slightly where she sat beside you atop the fallen tree trunk. She leaned over into your space, her shoulder knocking against yours lightly with a cheeky smile gracing her features. She really was beautiful, you mused silently, like Omera, like Winta would be. Like your mother had been once before…everything.

“I should be saying that to you. What you did, what you’re capable of…it’s amazing.”

“It’s nothing, really. Or at least, nothing but trouble. But thank you all the same.”

The clearing became silent as you two simply sat and enjoyed in each other’s company. It was shaping up to be a clear night, the stars becoming visible as the sky darkened with the sun settling below the horizon. Oblivious to the movement of the woman beside you as she watched you watch the sky for a few moments before she shoved off and disembarked. You gazed up at them, lost in thoughts that swirled around in your mind until the footsteps of the Mandalorian broke the reverie you had fallen into.

“San, it’s time to go.” He stood just inside the tree line, helmet catching the moonlight as you turned to face him. His deep voice was soft, your name leaving his lips catching you slightly off guard.

“Yes, jatne vod.” You jumped from the trunk, feet landing steady on the forest floor. He didn’t move from the path that led through the forest to the clearing, which allowed for your shoulder to brush lightly against his cuirass as you passed him. You could’ve sworn your ears picked up the static crackle of his vocoder sounding, but you didn’t look back. Your gaze ahead as you made your way through the foliage.

If you had, you would’ve noticed the way that his hands had been bare and had begun to reach out toward you.

“She…reminded me of my own mother.” His voice admits as he’s still seated on the end of the speeder, his legs dangling over the edge of it. His visor is aimed at the horizon, away from you. Peering into the darkness as the trees had thinned out in this part of the path, allowing him to look beyond them and see hints of the environment you were traveling through. There was no doubt in your mind that he was able to switch between different points of view with that helmet of his.

It was a part of what made him most formidable, daunting to be on the wrong side of. Something that you had contemplating removing from him in such a way that it would be both a hinderance and panic inducing tactical move. Something that would help you to gain the upper hand and a head start, but that would mean exposing his face to you should you be able to harness the mental strength to either use the Force and remove it that way or bodily pin him somehow to remove it with your own two hands. Both would be far too intimate a thing despite the reasons behind it, the motives behind it. Because you weren’t sure which ones would win out if you were brave enough to actually try…

If you were to actually witness his face, who he was, you were sure your mind would shut down. The timber of his voice was nice and soothing even through the moderator, you couldn’t imagine how much more pleasant it would sound to your ears unrestricted. To see his face, the bridge of his nose and the notch of his eyebrows as you witness expressions and emotions play out. The curve of his lips as he would speak your name…would certainly have effect to you much like it would be to have his helmet removed. The most intimate part of who he was exposed, it would be a line crossed and surely would spell out your death and his own devotion to a Creed he gave his life to. Or it would breathe life into the feelings you could sense burrowing beneath your skin, taking over as if it was sunlight warming you from the inside out and you would give into the dreams your mind has been torturing you with these past weeks.

“It wasn’t…anything else. It was nothing like….” Like how he was beginning to think about you. How he did. But those thoughts remained a secret housed within the armor he donned, unable to speak them out loud to you now, unable to gather the courage to do so.

“Your business is your own, jatne vod.” Voice clipped, still holding him at a distance. Thoughts confusing and pinging around so fast it was easier to shut down the conversation rather than go in circles with the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, I won’t remember you even existing soon enough.” Your words tasted bitter as they left your mouth. But you had to build that wall back up, you had been slowly replacing the bricks that had begun to slink from their spaces in the wall of your protection, the wall you had put up in your mind to separate you from reality in self-preservation. The thought hurts him as much as it does you. It twists in his chest much like it does in your own. Like the blade of a knife that had wedged itself in between ribs and flesh. He feels the weight of your gaze on the back of his helmet, something he didn’t dare turn around and face head on.

He still wanted to share with you that he had no intention of turning you in, he wanted to give you a chance to be that woman who had taken down that walker with no effort, the woman who had taken down those raiders like they were simply a bully who had done you wrong in the simplest of ways, the woman who looked after the Child with such care and devotion is stalled and softened his heart all at once. The woman who he saw wore confidence in her motions and was a practiced fighter, the woman who would want to travel with him perhaps…

Silence permeated the air between you, darkness making it all encompassing. It was a slightly charged one but you quieted yourself, waiting for him to reach out with his own voice should he want to. But he didn’t.

The sun was just rising when the land speeder cleared the thicket of forest that surrounded the clearing the Mandalorian had picked out all those weeks ago now to station the ship in. You felt the speeder come to a clean stop, the motion smooth despite it being loaded down with all of the crates and trunks that had been brought along with the three of you onto the planet.

The Child was asleep still, nestled in a bundle of blankets in the crook of space between you and the Mandalorian who had shifted to lean against a stack of his belongings, facing the direction that the speeder had been moving in. He moved to scoop up the small bundle the Child was encompassed in, but your hands reached first. The fleeting thought that you weren’t sure for how much longer you could indulge in interacting with the Child and wanting to do so as much as possible in the time that you did have. You care for him, and it was going to be harder to forget the people you interacted with this time around than the last, the kindness you had been shown and the things you had encountered of a different tone.

You busied yourself with getting the food and the Child aboard the ship, the two things that couldn’t be left alone for fear of predators taking advantage. Setting the food atop the makeshift table, you felt the Mandalorian behind you, but he veered off toward the ladder, to the cockpit. Probably to check transmissions he may have received while being off ship, while laying low.

You placed the Child in all of his blankets in the safety of his hammock in the Mandalorian’s personal quarters, being mindful not to look about or disturb anything. Hesitant to be in his personal space despite having slept in there previously, while injured and recovering as the ship travelled through hyperspace. As you exited the small, closed off space a familiar voice was wafting down from the ladder.

The realization had you freezing mid step, foot falling heavy in a stomp to the flooring of the ship. Heart racing and ears burning as heat flushed over your entire body before it gave way to chills down your spine and beads of sweat to form at your temples.

“There is a bit of a time sensitivity issue with this job now, I apologize. But I was informed that you had her in your possession and are actively traveling.” Your mother’s saccharine voice, too soft in words that didn’t betray her true nature, sounded from the cockpit above and down the ladder. Your entire body remained still as a statue, fearful she was aboard the ship herself before hearing the crackling of static that told you it wasn’t really her; it was just a hologram. “I don’t care much for drama or that you are no longer a part of the Guild, I still intend to pay you upon completion of the job. Please, return my daughter to me.”

Before you could even register it, your legs were burning as you ran from the inside of the ship and past all of the crates and trunks that contained the Mandalorian’s belongings. The items and the surrounding green of the clearing lined with trees blurred with the effort you were pushing into your legs, sprinting away from the Crest. Away from the voice and authority of your mother, the power of the Mandalorian that hovered over you like a storm cloud, the stifling humidity of it all suffocating the air around you and making you pant slightly as you tried to recover out from under it.

The golden light of a rising sun shining happily down onto the wreckage that had become your life, the joke that had become your life, oblivious to the panic and fear that had slammed hard into your very soul and winded you. The land speeder would a the good option, but too bulky. It could be traced easily; it would slow you down. You heard your name being called, a harsh sense to it as you paused in front of the land speeder.

Frazzled mind reading into it as the Mandalorian being upset and furious that you had fled the ship, that you were still fleeing even as he gave chase. His instincts triggered and you turned from where you had paused for a moment beside the land speeder, to see his broad frame burst from the inside of the ship and down the ramp. His steps were silent, though you could see it in the way he held himself that he was as taut as a bowstring. His armor glinting in the early morning sun as he came out from the shadows of the ship and closer toward you.

“I deserve to be free!” You shouted, fisted hands at your sides shaking as you whipped around. Loose hair over your back volleying up with the motion. Voice carrying over the open space of the field that the ship was grounded in, louder than the Mandalorian had ever heard it and full of emotion he couldn’t begin to understand that had been awoken inside of you at the sound of your mother’s voice through the transmission.

The Mandalorian had hastily followed you, your quick steps and stilted breathing telling him you had overheard every word of the message. His instincts taking over as his mind dove into overload and his feet quick in pursuit. He couldn’t let you get away, he couldn’t let you make it to the trees. You would be a formidable quarry now that he could sense that you were willing to fight against him, fight for your life, fight for your freedom after getting a taste of it these last couple of weeks. He had to tell you, he had to let you know he wouldn’t dare do what was racing through your thoughts right now. He wouldn’t turn you in, he wouldn’t treat you as a quarry any longer, that he…hadn’t wanted to for a while. That he wanted to offer his ship to travel on, to offer himself to travel with…

You looked so startled across the open space of the clearing, so taken off guard as your bag swung against you, having tugged it over your shoulder quickly. The handle of your saber was tight in your grip and your thumb hovered over the activation button. You didn’t look like you were about to submit to him as your recent behavior hinted at, now that the reality of the situation was glaring in your face, inevitable. It both exhilarated him and worried him, he would give chase should he need to, he needed you to know the truth of his feelings and thoughts. But it looked like the smallest movement or the faintest word would send you running. He sighed quietly before opening his mouth.

“San, listen to me-“

You took a few steps back, furthering the distance as he had stepped down from the metal of the ramp and his boots had made contact with the ground. He was fast, light on his feet and swift despite the weight of the armor he donned, if he had the chance to, you were sure he could outrun you. His words cut off as you moved, but whatever he had to say, you wouldn’t listen. He…the threat he posed to your freedom could no longer be looked over in favor of feeling like he was more capable, more skilled than you. He had that flame thrower in his armor, he had those bullets that had a mind of their own, he had those sensors in his helmet, he had such an advantage over you. The thought of disarming him of the helmet flitted through your mind once again, followed swiftly by guilt at thinking of such a thing.

Eyes narrowed with determination that won over the deep set fear your mother’s voice had invoked. The time spent on Sorgan seemed to have allowed you to feel more like yourself, to heal and regain enough strength to fight for your life once again. So fiercely like he had suspected you did before your capture and containment at the compound. It was obvious that keeping you drugged was the only way they had been able to control you, the battle proving as much as you had taken out the literal tank of a walker without breaking a sweat.

“I’ve spent my entire life fighting to survive. I was hunted, I was tortured, I was starved, I was priced like stock! I was told so many lies. I was drugged for years! I was used!” Hot tears were streaming freely down your face, not caring about the display of openness, of unbridled emotion, of weakness. You let the wave of emotion wash over you, letting yourself feel it all without a filter or trying to suppress it down. You wanted to feel it, to feel like a person, to feel human. To feel like yourself, whoever that was now. You were always too emotional to be a master, feeling things deeply and taking things too personally as a child.

“I’m done! I-I….I can’t go back to being a shell of a person while people who claim to care about me, love me keep me dosed up on so many drugs I don’t even know where I am. I can’t be sold to someone who will only use me to warm their bed and entertain their guests! I can’t, I won’t.”

But you had grown out of it, or so you thought. Here you were nearly twenty years later and still shouting out in the face of personal injustice. Fighting it tooth and nail now that you’ve found your sense of self once again, having been woken up to the feeling of being human.

The man was quiet in front of you, not moving a muscle holding his arms up in front of him in a placating motion, his palms open. He was facing you across the clearing, him by the ramp of the ship, you by wall of trees, his visor trained on your distraught form. No words were being spoken by him, you were merely arguing against the thoughts that were consuming you, shouting at them as they circled in your head like vultures stocking a dying animal.

“I may not know who I am, but I am a person!” You felt your lips curl in a snarl, words and feelings rushing out of you in a frantic manner, afraid you would never get the chance to voice them again beyond this moment in time. Afraid that if you didn’t let them free, they would fester inside of you and turn you bitter. The Mandalorian’s hands tensed into fists at his sides as his arms lowered, the leather of his gloves crinkling. The expression on your face taking him by surprise in how much emotion was behind it. With how alive you looked, even as you feared for your future, feared for your life.

“If you are still to turn me in, then kriffing do it. I’ll fight you until my body gives out on me, until you’re dead and no longer someone who can overpower me!” The blade of your saber hummed to life with your words. The power emanating from you was like a wave across the clearing as it washed over to the Mandalorian and made his own instincts come to flare to life where they had been simmering just below the surface of his skin throughout the entire exchange, fighting taking over flight as it had always done.

“You may be able to sedate me, but I will kill myself the first chance I get. If I could even manage to escape again from whatever awaits me, be on the run with what little freedom it would give me. I’d rather be dead than be shackled for one more second of my life!”

The man that made up the wall of beskar stepped forward toward you, the way you were shaking was alarming, like the sobs you were doing a good job of choking back from sounding were fighting underneath your skin. Your shoulders were shaking, your hair was moving wildly with the motions, the crystal housed in your saber must’ve sensed the lack of control you had over your emotions, and it wavered between varying degrees of brightness before it deactivated altogether. Your hands still gripped the handle tight but were now rising and falling with your words, rocks and fallen tree limbs along the edges of the clearing around you on the ground moving in tandem with their movement. Even some of the crates that held the Mandalorian’s belongings moved along with your motions. Your eyes were clear as day, flashing sharp in the sunshine, the brightness of their faceted color mesmerizing.

“I’d rather be dead than be someone’s captive again. Even if it’s as one to you, jatne vod.”

“If I were to return you to your mother, you would remain my quarry until handed over.”

“I would remain a captive until my last breath if you were to return me to my mother. She had plans to sell me off, to make me some nobleman’s plaything. To be kept in a dungeon somewhere on his grounds, to never know the feeling of the sun on my skin again or the sound of another’s voice. I-“

You shook your head, nerves taking over as you almost admitted to the deep feeling of loss you would feel not being able to hear his low timbre through the moderator if you were to part. He wasn’t pursuing you, he was merely standing with you in the clearing. No urgency of submission could be sensed from him, he just wanted to talk. He just wanted to listen. The energy bleeding from him was based in nervousness, in worry, it didn’t feel threatening. It felt…it felt comforting….it felt like home. Biting your lip, you decided to speak it anyway. You didn’t have anything to lose at this point, you didn’t have anything at all.

“I would be remiss if I couldn’t hear another’s voice for the remainder of my days. If I couldn’t hear yours.”

There was a sharp hiss from the helmet, the vocoder doing its best to display what it could. The visor glinted in the sun as the Mandalorian had taken a deep breath at your bold words, at your confession.

It sent a tingle down your back, down your arms. Perhaps you weren’t completely inept…perhaps he felt the same for you in some capacity. He had done so much for you that was unwarranted, since taking you into his orbit as a quarry. He hadn’t been obligated to let you rest atop his cape in the desert, to wipe your face clean then either. He hadn’t been obligated to help treat the scarring and deep cuts and irritation of your wrists after unbinding you, nor to allow you to remain unbound while still in his supervision. He hadn’t been obligated to offer you something you were able to stomach, to make it for you, to provide you with clean clothing, his bed to sleep in in your injured state. He hadn’t been obligated beyond general responsibility to the job to keep you alive and well, though he had done so with great attention and devotion. He hadn’t been obligated to do any of it. And yet he had.

Hope sparked in your middle and spanned out to your very fingertips. They tingled with more than the use of the Force waning from your body.

“My life is not for anyone else.”

“My life is not for anyone.”

The Mandalorian cursed at the way his whole body buzzed at your words, his palms tingling beneath their gloves, his chest experiencing a jolt of something deep inside.  He recalled you sitting on the porch in the village on Sorgan, setting sun casting warm lights over your skin, the scars relaying your experiences you wouldn’t talk about. Couldn’t because he hadn’t asked. He recalled the way you inhaled any fruit to be found in a market, the small smile on your face as you learned about what they were called and how they tasted, you liked them all. How the Kid would actually sit still with you, in your lap and meditate with you as much as he could endure before tiring or growing restless. The way you would practice with your saber when you thought he was asleep, out just beyond the barn or in that clearing close by when he was preoccupied with helping around the village. The way you admitted to never knowing what pleasure was and feeling a kind touch to your skin…

“Okay.”

One simple word. And it defined the direction of your life.

That kind of power was something you never wanted anyone to have over your life, but it seemed to be the way the universe wanted things to be. Time and time again. People having power over your life and the way that it should be lead, should be controlled.

You took a step back, the rocks that had been floating with your raised hands falling with a loud rumble to the ground. Shock flashed over your eyes and then the faintest sliver of fear before resignation settled on your tear-stained features. Your entire body tensed and you turned on your heel, about to make a run for it. But the soft words that lilted from the modulator and across the clearing stopped you before you could.

“Mesh’la, you misunderstand me. You will not be bound by my hands, you are free.”

“That’s not my name.”

“And mine is not ‘jatne vod’.”

“But-“

“My name is Din Djarin and you are free to travel with me as an equal aboard my ship if that is what you wish.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

dividers by the lovely saradika

[saneandrocking]

I need more about dead stan au

To be clear, I'm not sure if this idea has been already exposed and is the theme of someone's fanfic out there. I just like Dead people AU and suffering. With that said, I kinda raw dog this righ here and I hope you like the flavor!

Bits of context: This is the AU where Stan dies while he's sleeping in his car, is basically a casuality of him getting robbed, reacting and getting killed, nothing much in the side of the extraordinary. I don't remeber exactly all of the series details, but I'm rewatching it, I promise! Yes, it's a music fic, cause I'm corny. The lyrics at the right are Standford's and they belong to Come Home by One Republic and the lyrics at the left are Stanley's and they belong to Take me home by Jess Glynne, because this is how I pictured they both feel at this moment in their respective lives. Remember: Stanley's is barely a legal adult whe he's is evicted from his house and he has canonically hold a grudge because of it, and I don't think I need to justify Stanford's anger. They both have made decision that are unmistakenly selfish, and that does not define their whole characters. Kissessss!

Major trigger: Grief. Major Character Death. Curse language.

After the fallout between the Pines twins, Stanford was accepted into another university, less prestigious but with generous resources for his research. Alongside Fiddleford, he was determined to prove to the rest of the scientific community that this world was far from being fully explained by the already known elements of nature. He was more motivated than ever to delve into the obscure side of anomalies. He was going to make sure his name was not forgotten in history. He's ambitious, he has something to prove, and he feels—or has always felt—like he's already running out of time to do it, so he's fighting against the clock.

Well, hello, world

Hope you're listening

Forgive me if I'm young

For speaking out of turn

He's in his dormitory room at the college he attends, and Fiddleford is taking a well-deserved nap after helping him with some more references, while he's still researching one of the maps of anomalies recorded in the last decade. There's a certain frequency in certain areas, not old-fashioned publicity tricks to attract attention, no, it's something more… He feels like he's going in circles, even though he can see there's a pattern there. He squeezes his tired eyes; the low lighting isn't doing him any favors when the telephone (something Fiddleford found in the trash and brought home to fix) rings. It's three after midnight, and he knows nothing good can come of this.

He doesn't have time to say anything after picking up the damn thing ringing like crazy and putting it to his ear.

—Stanford, for God's sake, why aren't you answering this damn thing?! I've used all my coins trying to call the university, but they only gave me your roommate's number— a feminine voice berates him. He waits a few seconds, trying to place that strident voice, but the answer comes quickly, of course. The only woman who would call him in the middle of the night is his mom.

—Mom. I've already told you, I don't have time! I have to study even harder since Stan— He stops himself, angry. Sometimes, remembering his brother is still a mix of anger and resentment that he can't fully name to this day. He sighs.

There is someone I've been missing

—It's not the time for that! It's about your brother.— Her tone is not authoritative, but there's an agony there, a desperation that only a mother can express. A guilt trip is what she does best, he thinks bitterly somehow.

Wrapped up, so consumed by All this hurt If you ask me, don't Know where to start

—Mom, what the actual—why would I care what he does?! He ruined everything for me! I'm going to hang up now, I'm busy, call me later.— Deep down, he already feels bad enough for talking to her like that. His poor mother has tried her best all her life, just as he is doing now. And, vaguely, probably Stan is living like that too, even if his best is in another category of stupidity.

—No, no, please!— Loud sobs interrupt her speech, and he sobers up right there. His mom is not one to cry over just anything. —Ford, he is…

—Mom? What happened? I'm sorry, I lashed out.— He runs his hand through his hair, breathing in and out. —What did he do now?— A long and strained sigh, again. Why does everything have to be a problem with Stan? —Are we talking about Stan or the baby? If it's the first, let me guess.— There's a certain humor in the guessing game; he bets Stan did some nonsense expecting him to clean up after him. Again.

Anger, love, confusion Roads that go nowhere I know that somewhere better

—He's dead, Stanford. Stanley's dead,— she says finally.

—What,— he says, as if in a chokehold, struggling to get the words out.

—I'm going to pass you to your dad, he'll…— His mother chokes on her words and murmurs loudly, —My baby boy Stanley…

—Mom?! What—I can't—!— He's lost. That's all he can say and think. Stanley's lost, not dead, just lost. The idea of death is too much.

I think that they could be

The better half of me

They're in the wrong place

Tryin' to make it right

But I'm tired of justifying

—Hello, son.— The serious and deep tone of his dad doesn't do much to calm the desperate young man; it only intensifies his horror. Stanley's lost. Lost is the word they are searching for.

—Can someone just tell me what I just heard? Stanley is—it can't be, Dad…please, talk to me! He's lost?— Why does he ask something as stupid as this? He knows what he heard.

So I say to you

Come home, come home

'Cause I've been waiting for you

—It's what your mother told you. I have nothing more to say. The funeral— The rest of his words get lost in the moment. All Stanford could hear was the sound of the pen he was holding before it fell onto the table, and the room he shared with his friend became a world of its own. An empty and devastated world, full of silence and sorrow.

Would you take the wheel If I lose control? If I'm lying here Will you take me home?

Stanford can't remember how this conversation ended, how his too-hard-to-impress father explained with a shaky and strained voice when the event was going to be. He didn't even have the money to buy something formal to wear to his brother's burial. Would he be buried in his father's suit? He can only describe the slow and painful realization that came with the equally painful heartache: his twin was dead. If there was such a thing as another half of someone, his was dead and about to be buried six feet under within the next hours.

Could you take care Of a broken soul? Will you hold me now? Oh, will you take me home?

The one and only Stanley Pines died far from home, probably alone, while Ford was studying the anomalies of the world, trying to once in a lifetime feel like he belonged, only to discover that nothing could have been more important than his blood—but suddenly, that was a too-late realization.

Fiddleford stared at him as he fell to his knees, too stunned to utter a word, too broken to make sense. He later woke from this numbness holding a cup of coffee in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. Stan was dead, and he was alive, and now this is what he'll remember for the rest of his conscious life. This, and the broken look on his mother's face when she saw him at her door on the same day her other son died—his father did not have the strength to look directly at him.

And right now there's a war between the vanities

But all I see is you and me

And the fight for you is all I've ever known

So come home

At the funeral, the only ones present were him and his mother. Despite all the emotions (too overwhelming for Ford to watch, by the way), his father outright refused to see Stanley in the coffin. —I can't take it. I'm not man enough to watch it. Take care of your mother.

He prayed that day, to a God he wasn't sure could even hear him. The guilt was louder than him, but he tried anyway. With all the conflicting feelings in his chest, between his anger and profound grief, he did what he could with all of that, standing side by side with the cold body of his deceased brother. The mirror image of himself lying down, more neat than ever.

The world ain't half as bad

As they paint it to be

If all the sons, all the daughters

Stopped to take it in

Well, hopefully, the hate subsides

And the love can begin

It might start now, yeah

Well, maybe I'm just dreaming out loud

—I will fix this, Stan. I swear. Or I'll see you after giving up. Either way: wait for me one more time.

Everything I can't be

Is everything you should be

And that's why I need you here

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (final)

prev // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 13.5k

warning: nothing i can think of but lmk

"you did it once again!" arin squeaks, the excitement in her tone louder than the overwhelming joy you're feeling, only able to stare in awe at the sight before you.

your picture right under the employee of the month for the second time in a row.

"i guess i did," you reply, a confident smile resting on your lips as your chest drops in relief.

it took a lot of time and so much work in order for you to come around and accept the idea that you are good at what you do. that every compliment wasn't just because they pitied or felt bad for you, but because you genuinely deserved it.

it took even longer to come to terms with the fact that despite growing up the way you did, your youth filled with absent parents and a home and family with no love, you are so much more than that.

you are so much more than the traumas and broken pieces in your life, and you're not just a weak, timid girl with a haunted past and a wounded heart.

even if your parents didn't love you, and the only boy who you gave your heart to broke it, those things doesn't define you as much as the belief and faith you have in yourself.

all the sessions of sitting in your therapist's office, crying, spilling your soul and guts out, and trying to believe her when she'd tell you none of it is your fault, whether your parents or the romantic partners you had.

it's worth it because you came out so much better in the end, your mindset almost completely rewired to the point you can't believe how vulnerable you once were.

how, you used to believe every lies so easily, it flying over your head and always giving people the benefits of the doubt when they didn't deserve it.

always such a pushover and so fearful, unconfident at anything, it's hard to wrap your head around the fact you lived for almost nineteen years without medication or guidance when you were on edge and close to breaking down at all time.

but regardless, you did it. you got help and unlearned some, and then had to learn a lot so you could be the person you are today. no longer doubtful of yourself and your abilities, and unwilling to let just anybody step all over you.

it's that mentality that got you this far despite also still being the very same girl from five years ago who's still naive in some ways, and with so many more things to learn and overcome.

"y/n," arin calls, sneaking half her body into your cubicle with a stack of papers in her hold, prompting you to spin the chair around to face her.

"the team's going out to eat after work. it is our treat to you."

"sounds good," you reply, pleased by the offer you wouldn't ever deny. "see you in about 20?"

"yes." she bobs her head. "we're getting barbecue, by the way."

life had been an array of ups and downs, everything not always smooth sailing and hitting many bumps on the road here. from you and yuna joining hands together in making a children's book with her being the illustrator but unable to commit to the idea, to getting ignored or rejected the first 40 or so applications until someone finally found your resume impressive because you didn't want to just rely on other people.

no matter how good yuna's offer was, talking about how she could get you a position in her uncle's company and how bad you wanted to take it because it would've spared you the stress of having to search for a job yourself, you knew you couldn't.

you wanted to earn it and be proud it was through your own efforts.

the rejections humbled you in some ways, and made you stronger in others, stopping at nothing until you finally got the first email that you've been accepted by a makeup brand as their content writer.

the brand, velvetie, had only been out for about a year by the time of your employment and was still fairly small and experimental. now, the brand is known for their lines of lip tints that are labeled soft, smooth, and long-lasting by reviewers, the creations only getting more popular by days as it's just now being praised by actors and idols alike.

you didn't at all imagined this to be the job you'd wind up with, nor did you think you'd turn out liking it, the creative writing degree and your history speaking for itself, but you're happy where you ended up and happy to still be writing in general.

the marketing team you're in, a small but comfortable circle where you've come to love and grow fond of the people you're working with, sharing the same space for a few hours a day and understanding all too well the struggles of meeting deadlines or running into a creative dry spell.

arin, who you're closest to and have known the longest, is who you met in your last semester of sophomore year after making the mistake of taking calculus as an elective while she was taking it as requirement for her business major.

besides the obvious hatred for calculus the two of you shared, it was unusual how quick a friendship came to blossom, never in your life have you felt such a natural bond to anyone. not even mingi, you've already told that story countless times, how it took awhile.

but it was so easy talking to her, your reserved and hesitant personality the perfect one to her more outgoing and friendly nature, you two clicked instantly, it was crazy.

she not only became one of your best friends, but also a part of your everyday life.

"you're completely drunk," you comment, finally pulling your friend's butt off the seat when everyone else finally left.

she hurls out a groan and leans on you slightly, her alcohol breath incredibly intoxicating and is the sole reason why you often rethink the choice of saying yes when you hate taking care of a drunk arin.

"i'm good," she attempts to say but her words are slurred as she tries regaining her balance and striving a few steps forward but you're quick to assist her again because you know she's gonna fall.

"come on, let's get you a cab," you say at the same time walking out with her sluggish body, stopping just right outside the restaurant.

"no. let me go home with you."

you raise an eyebrow at your friend, her head on your shoulder and appearing unconscious but the response just now registering her more aware than you think, because you know the girl, and you know she won't ever pass up the opportunity to visit her boyfriend.

a few months ago when you finally made the big decison to move out after sharing a tiny apartment with mingi for over a year, you had no idea that the new place, a modern-esque two bedroom apartment, would be under the same building as arin's boyfriend, and just right down from the hall to be precise.

you've met him a couple times and of course, he's handsome and wonderful and treats her just right, but you definitely did not apartment hunt with him in mind, so what were the chances.

at least for arin, it made everything all more convenient. her boyfriend in one place and her best friend just two doors down as she'd hop from one to another like it's halloween.

but in spite of her protests along the shared ride because you also shouldn't be driving, your conscious tipsy, you tell the driver to pull up at her place, not at all concerned about the abandoned cars because you'll just pick it up tomorrow, with the restaurant and your workplace a walking distance.

"but the dinner tomorrow, you're still coming, right?" your friend turns to you, her lazy eyes squinting as she awaits an answer.

"yes. we'll talk more about it tomorrow."

you insist on helping her walk to the door, afraid she might hit the cement before she'll even make it, but she assures she got it. still, you watch through the window as she fiddles with the keys until unlocking and disappearing inside.

once you're home, all you want to do is hit the bed. maybe put on a show in the background and just doze off to it, but you have to wash off the sweats and grime of today; get cleaned up and dry before settling on your mattress comfortably.

the ding from your phone you've placed on the nightstand after going the entire day of being on silent is what grabs your attention, your neck snapping to the lit-up screen, checking the bundle of messages you missed out on.

4:43 p.m.

kwak yuna: guys! florence is so beautiful!

kwak yuna: *attachment*

song minGi: beautiful for sure, but would be even better in person 🙄

kwak yuna: i told you guys that we should take a trip and i'll pay for half of it, but y'all always too busy to do anything 🙄💅

song minGi: yeah cuz we have something called being poor & have to keep up with jobs and responsibilities. we don't have mommy's and daddy's limitless money to live off of

kwak yuna: stfu 🖕

song minGi: 😜

lee minJi: he's so jealous fr

song minGi: that, i am. i too wish i was in italy rn

jeong yunho: but we really need to catch up soon. how does seoul sound in about a month from now?

kwak yuna: i can do that. starting to really miss home anyways.

jeong yunho: yeah, me and minji can make a trip there as well

song minGi: sounds good to me. now, we just wait for the other two, which is gonna be a good few years

jeong yunho: y/n has her phone on silence during work

song minGi: and yeosang's too good for the rest of us

jeong yunho: pfft

you giggle and roll your eyes the entire time reading through it, checking the latest message that prompted the notification and seeing it was from yuna.

it only makes sense given it's probably still early for her because of the time zone difference.

9:51 p.m.

kwak yuna: no one cares but this is the outfit i'm wearing for today. it's almost 1pm and i'll be heading to the gallery soon.

kwak yuna: *attachment*

song minGi: you're right, no one cares

y/n: in about a month sounds good to me, and seoul sounds even better. i won't have to do any traveling lol. also @ kwak yuna the outfit is super cute! i love the beret! 💕 and @song minGi you're literally annoying 🥱

song minGi: omg jumpscare! she's here to yell @ me

y/n: yessir

kwak yuna: omg y/n! hi!!!!

y/n: hi 🤭

y/n: had my phone on silence and then went out with my coworkers after. but yes, i miss you guys a lot. let's crash at my place next time!

kwak yuna: yes! i'll bring the booze!

song minGi: make sure it's the expensive kind

y/n: that's it, guys. have to sleep. goodnight! 🌙

before you go to set the alarms and really turn off your phone for the night, you catch just a glimpse of mingi's and yuna's conversation, the brief mention of yeosang before it all turns to fun banters again.

of course, most of the works were because of your own efforts and determination in wanting to get better. but the process would've been so much harder had it not been for the friends and support by your side.

the ones who believed in you when you didn't even believe in yourself, and the ones who gave you words of encouragement one after another, and was just there for you through it all.

a few years ago, you didn't think it was even possible to be without mingi or yunho. without their guidance or assistance because then you'd feel so out of place, lost, and completely confused.

but now, you're cities apart from them, and is surviving and doing absolutely okay.

they were so happy when you told them about arin; how alike but also different you two are, and how comfortable everything is with her, because they could rest assured that when they were no longer by your side, you'd be in good hands.

but even if without arin, they had faith in that you could do it by yourself. you'd grown so much within the past years and had no doubts you'd be fine.

they knew they couldn't be with you forever. not all the time at least. eventually, dreams and ambitions will take one of you from the others until you're all in different places one day, and they wanted you to be ready for that.

and it did. yunho sooner than mingi because as soon as he graduated, he followed his heart and moved to busan with minji, his girlfriend, and has been there since.

mingi on the other hand, lived under the same roof as you for a little over a year, attempting to do something with his psychology degree and earn his teaching credentials before moving back to the quiet town to be closer to his parents. he missed them.

who would've ever thought that out of the three, you would be the one who chose to stay back in the bigger city of strobing lights, loud commotions, and a big population when you were anything but that once upon a time.

so you're all in different places.

not just mingi and yunho, but yuna also traveling the world just like she dreamed of. traveling the continents so she can see the beauty the world has to offer; replicate it in her arts and visiting galleries and museums for more knowledge and inspirations.

you're happy for her.

the only person still in town is yeosang, but even he's not entirely reachable, if at all. he's the least active in the group chat and you can't recall the last time you had a proper conversation with him.

he's incredibly busy, you understand.

last you heard, he's juggling the tech job he got during his senior year, along with his master's at seoul national.

you knew someone like yeosang was always destined for greatness and his current standing doesn't fall any short of it. that he was always meant to go to a competitive university and get offered a great job because he's truly gifted and exceptional.

unable to dwell on any more thoughts, you close your eyes and let the weight of today take over, falling into a deep slumber.

waking up and getting ready for work is a repetitive routine.

first, making yourself a nice cup of coffee before getting dressed up and doing your hair, grabbing all necessary files and anything essential before calling a cab because you left your car at the company's parking lot yesterday.

the company's building is mostly in white, the only splash of other colors is the logo in pink plastered right at the front for everyone to see as they enter.

you swipe your id card and head upstairs to your designated working space, surprise to see arin already at hers before you.

"morning," she coos, her early tone friendly as you pass by her cubicle.

"morning," you reply, voice still tired and drowsy to a point, but your friend's perfectly fine appearance has you questioning, "hangover?"

"nope." she shakes her head. "i'm surprisingly fine, and excited for the dinner tonight. i hope you haven't forgotten."

"i haven't, because you've only reminded me like 50 times."

she giggles, a satisfied smile on.

"okay, good. i'll see you during break."

~

"so what exactly is this dinner about?" you ask your friend, seated in the break room right across from each other, the question stopping her from shoving a sandwich down her throat.

the entire week of her bringing up the 'dinner' event and annoying you with it, she never emphasized on what exactly it means. and dinner in the presence of her boyfriend and his apartment, to be exact.

"i don't understand why you'd want to invite me? i mean, shouldn't you guys be spending time alone?" you add on, confused.

"shhh," she shushes you, index finger at her lips and swirling out an exaggerated sigh, "you don't need to know anything for now. just get dressed up and get pretty, okay?"

she ends it with a calming smile, diving right back into her food as you stare at her with daggers.

you swear, if this is another of her attempt at setting you up on a date, you're so not gonna forgive her for it. it will be the third time, to speak.

the third time that you'll have to explain to her why you're not interested and why it didn't work out with you being completely married to your job and just not ready for the next step.

that no matter how fun and exciting the idea of a double date and hanging together is, it is not a priority for you. at least for now.

nonetheless, you get ready, throwing on a casual enough off shoulder ruffle dress that still looks presentable and like you at least tried, along with a pair of flat sandals.

you think that maybe, there's a chance tonight you're all just gonna eat dinner, probably play a game or two after and even catch a late night movie because arin just wants to hang with her boyfriend and best friend.

that you've drilled it enough time in her head that you're not looking for a romantic interest for her to know to not try to persuade you.

a text from her telling you to come when you're ready is what gets you up from the couch, checking your hair just once in the small mirror before heading down the hall and placing two knocks at the door.

your body and nerves still calm one second, and suddenly the next when the frame comes apart to unveil the person behind it and standing before you, you second guess if you're at the right place and time.

if this is some alternate universe where you're seeing things, or if reality is really so cruel to put you through this.

you've come so far and thought you had conquered most of your fears and hauntings, but all it's taking for your palms to start sweating again and feet with the urge to run to safety, is one of your past showing its head and waddling back into your life.

he's as equally surprised and confused, staring at you like he didn't expect this as well, and time stretches on when you two just gawk at each other like a dramatic scene from a movie.

his appalled expression as his eyes enlarges is disgustingly endearing, and you hate the way your body reacts to it.

hate that he looks even better than the last time, his hair now more refined and there's something more mature and manly about his style.

he's in a suit and no longer looks like a college fratboy that enjoys breaking hearts just for fun.

hate that you haven't seen him in practically five years and everything still feels so familiar; all his features so instantly recognizable that you can still imagine the way his lips feel on yours, and how cute dimples would pop out of his cheeks when he smiles.

hate that everything's coming back all at once; when time used to stop and when it was still hard to breathe.

when a beating heart was usually followed by swarm of butterflies in your stomach that you haven't felt in years, and now the sight of him in front triggering the sensation once again.

and you hate the fact that no matter how much pain he had put you through, or how many times he had hurt you to the point you were so sure you were over him, there's a certain fondness you have for him and a special place in your heart that reacts with familiarity.

it feels like the world stopped spinning and everything in the background turning blurry just for the few seconds you two meet again for the first time, although it feels like forever.

"hey, y/n!" yeonjun's voice snaps you back, your gaze skipping over san's shoulder to your friend's boyfriend and you loathe it even more that none of it is a mistake.

that you didn't just happen to wander into the wrong apartment or something.

that the universe is really so unfair and cruel and setting you up for the worst by crossing paths with san again.

"come on in!" he ushers, his tone happy and excited the way you know yeonjun always is, him and your friend completely ignorant to the bubbling tension between you and the boy still standing before you.

you just nod in return, san moving out of the way awkwardly as you finally step in and roam the interior as if you haven't already seen it, trying your best to focus on anything else but the person raising the hair at the back of your neck.

the closing of the door is heard the same time yeonjun switches to introduce you to one another, and you both just humming and bowing with acknowledgement.

act as if this is the first time meeting each other. as if there isn't a history that played a signifcant part in shaping the two of you in becoming the people you are today, and now landing in this situation by some odd twisted fate.

arin and yeonjun just laughing off the awkward and bumbling exchange, brushing it off as no more than two strangers new to each other and moving it to the dining table.

"let's eat first. perfect opportunity to learn about each other," your friend speaks, and all that is going through your mind is which is worse: sitting next to san or across from him. you think the latter.

but the former isn't any better with arin and yeonjun watching the both of you like hawks, unaware that the reason you're both not speaking to each other isn't because of shyness or unfamiliarity.

but they do notice something isn't right; that there might another reason up in the air why the both of you can barely look at each other.

yeonjun with how bold and confident san tends to be, the boy always approaching everything so smugly. and arin in the entirety of knowing you, never had seen you look so tense.

she wasn't gonna do it at first. knows and understands how much you've been telling her it's never gonna work out, the two guys she connected you with from before ending in complete disaster.

but she just couldn't help it this time when her boyfriend started talking about his friend he met in the states finally flying to korea and will be staying with him for a couple of days.

and she especially couldn't help it when she learned he's not only incredibly handsome but also single.

she figured she was doing you a favor, but by the look of your face and body language right now, white in complexion like you just saw a ghost, she thinks you're totally gonna yell at her for this.

"i uhm, i gotta use the restroom," you speak up, lying through your teeth and san can't even blame you for it, honestly even relieved you're the one to initiate.

you wobble the entire way to the bathroom, your legs shaky and your stomach starting to become upset but your chest dropping slightly when you sit on the edge of the bathtub, glad to just be away.

you were doing so good. you were.

you hadn't thought of him in forever and now he just shows up out of nowhere, not even just as a stranger, but as the friend of your friend's boyfriend?

what sick joke is reality trying to play on you right now?

"y/n?" arin's sweet and concerned voice calls from the other side as you attempt to gather yourself to face your friend. tell her why you can't be here and make up something in hope you can leave.

"hey," you say lowly after prying the door open, a forced smile on your lips which arin doesn't buy into.

"you okay?"

"i'm alright. i just... don't feel so good right now," is your excuse, just praying she doesn't start questioning now, because you're not exactly in the time or place to explain everything between you and san.

all the heartbreaks and betrayals, and why you cannot stay here any longer or you'll really break.

"do you want to go home, or?" she's the one to bring up the idea, and you're thankful because you didn't want to be that person.

didn't want to have to break it to her and end the night so soon given how much she's talked about the day, and all the planning and preparation that yeonjun must've put in.

"yeah, i think it's best if i do," you answer, guilt present in your eyes, "i'm sorry i couldn't stay any longer. you guys probably worked hard on dinner."

arin snickers and shakes her head, the reassuring smile on her helps in dissipating some of the guilt.

"don't worry about it. you go ahead, i'll tell yeonjun."

she isn't gonna fight you on it. not when she's never seen you this way, coming off uneasy and absolutely troubled, she's gonna have to get down to the root of it tomorrow.

but for now, she just knows you need to be away.

you barely manage to make it to the door the stealthiest you can, bidding a weak goodbye to yeonjun and zooming out that instant, the frame shut right behind you and your shoulders dropping from the built up suffocation.

you proceed to your apartment, pushing past everything with a thumping heart until you're sitting at the edge of your bed, going on to do the one thing you always do when it's just all too overwhelming--

"mingi, you're not gonna believe this."

you can hear his protests of groans and sighs from the other side, so in character of him because this is usually his nap time.

"i just saw san."

the commotion is loud, the shuffling of body as he sits himself up and tries regaining conscious just to make sure he's not tripping out.

"you're forreal?" he remarks, sounding a lot more awake but still unconvinced.

"yes. he's yeonjun's friend and i don't even know how the fuck they knew each other or why he's here. all i know is arin needs to give up on trying to find me a date," you say in disbelief, recalling the last guy you went out with who left you feeling extremely disrespected and insulted after, and you thought the next one couldn't possibly be any worse.

"wait. so let me get this straight. you two met again because you're friend with arin and he's friend with yeonjun, and arin and yeonjun are dating?"

"yes."

"and yeonjun and you just happen to live under the same complex?"

"well, yes."

"what in the soulmate fuckery is this?"

"pfft," you scoff, throwing your head back into the soft mattress in frustration. "more like a curse. i was doing so good, it's been so long since i'd just... straight freeze up and chicken out, and that's exactly what i did."

mingi churns out a low hum, "no other way else to do it. what? you were gonna shake hands and play catch up with him? asked him what he did after he fucked you over and broke your heart?" he quips.

"well, no," you reply, reframing from growing irritated at your friend for his snarky remark during a time when your ovaries are about to explode. "i just thought i would've handled it a lot better. it's been five years and i haven't thought of him in so long, but one sighting of him and i'm already starting to question all the progress."

the recollection of earlier so vivid, you can almost feel the same sensation of shock and confusion as it numbed your entire body, just standing there like a little deer caught in headlights.

as if time throwing you back to the age of eighteen, still so easily starstruck and defenseless when it came to the charming boy who knew all the right things to say and do but never meant any of it.

who, told you right in the face he didn't want you--which was probably the only time he was being sincere.

last you heard, he had left the country. you didn't know where to exactly, but knew that he left.

you remember hearing about it from mingi the first time, that strange melancholy washing over at the news even though in theory, you should be happy.

mingi said he debated on telling you, having heard it from a friend of a friend, but succumbed eventually because he thought you would like to know, despite the pain and hardships san caused you, there's a part of you the revelation would bring relief to.

you won't have to worry or fret about accidentally running into him anywhere and go through that stage of grief all over again. and most importantly, it might in some ways, make the healing process easier.

"y/n," mingi snaps you out of it, that stern accent in his voice that indicates he's about to go off, "just because you're experiencing strong emotions again doesn't erase all of the progress you've made. you've seriously come so far, so don't undermine it."

"of course you're gonna feel some types of way at seeing san again. you said it yourself that he's someone special because he took so much from you. what matters is how you handle it now, and i know my y/n won't even give him the time of day or entertain his ass, right?"

you take in mingi's words and he's absolutely right. you're overthinking and giving yourself too little credits when you know that there's no way--

"right?! bitch, you better answer."

you roll your eyes.

"i love the faith you have in me," you say sarcastically.

"girl, i love you but that was a rough time."

because you lied and betrayed him the most during your time with san, and now, you just let him make all the jokes and snarky comments he wants. you're all over it.

"no but forreal that was actually kind of eye opening. if this teacher thing doesn't work out, you should totally go back and expand on that psychology degree."

he blows from the other line and you can picture an unamused expression on his face.

"nah, fuck that. i'm done with this school shit for life."

you let him ramble some more about why, no matter how much he enjoys the subject, the life and longevity of being a professional in the field just not for him (or the extra years of schooling) before he brings it back to the initial discussion once more.

and you promise that you won't fold so easily and pathetically ever again in the face of choi san.

you're familiar with how sometimes, by strokes of bad luck, you'd just be having shitty events happen one after another in a single day.

well, you're not gonna risk it and let it be this day, the top of your head peeking out to check the hallway before your entire body is scuttling into the elevator not taking any chances.

fate is already so cruel in placing the man who broke your heart and all, just a few doors down, and if it wanted to smack you right in the face with his chest or broad shoulders, it would've had you not left so quickly.

arin isn't there when you set foot into the office, her cubicle vacant and you continue to yours, sitting down to login and access your email, looking through the files the other team had sent of confirmed products that are soon gonna be launched and on the website a few months from now.

"good morning," your friend's greeting make you turn around, a sweet smile on her face like always, but yours still holding that same silently petrified expression of yesterday.

"hey."

her heels clink the carpet tiles walking closer, brows creasing into a look of sympathy as she asks, "you feeling any better?"

you nod, a barely audible hum leaving to accompany.

"should we talk about it? at lunch?"

because as much as you don't say, she knows there's something in your throat dying to just get out, and she's as equally curious to know.

"after work. we can grab something to eat."

you just don't think it's possible to summarize it all in thirty minutes; the history between you and san, and why you slightly want to pull her hair out because her boyfriend just has to be his friend.

it wasn't her fault, of course. but you're still kind of mad she tried playing cupid again and found the worst possible candidate.

you consider arin one of your best friends and she's told you on plenty occasions the same in return, but you did meet her after everything.

your fall from grace, that is, and quite possibly the lowest point in your life. so it just never came up, despite the impact it had on your growth, you didn't exactly expect you'd have to explain to her why her boyfriend's friend makes you want to hit your head against a wall.

"what? no way!"

your friend's embarrassingly loud volume echoes the whole restaurant and you have to deliver a kick to her leg under the table for the girl to calm with a light flush on her cheeks.

but you suppose there's no other way to react; finding out you too, were in love once and isn't completely the anti-romantic she was gonna write you off as.

"yeah..."

"i'm sorry. i truly am. from now on, i won't do it anymore," the girl swears, having seen it enough for herself at this point how her schemes despite having good intentions, always brings you the worst luck.

and though you've barely just scrapped the surface with san, your reactions were so strong when you saw him again, there's no doubt the guy put you through some fucked up shit.

"it's not like you knew or i ever told you, but yeah, it would be nice for you give up this whole matchmaking gig. you're horrible at it," you tease your friend, a laughter bubbling out when she rolls her eyes in response, quick to jump right back into asking questions.

"but you're okay now?"

"yeah. it's been years. just the shock of the first meeting in so long, i guess."

she nods, her mouth clamped shut because she does feel a little bad even if she didn't know, thinking the chances is crazy.

"he won't be here for long. as far as i know, it's only for a couple days until he finds a place or move elsewhere," she assures, bringing up what she heard from dinner last night because it might make you feel better.

"oh," is all that leaves, not that you're not relieved to hear it, but because there's something else you want to ask. questions lingering in your mind ever since 24 hours ago when you saw he was back.

it's not that you care, but it's really more out of curiosity.

"do you know how yeonjun and him met? or why he's back?" it slips out either way. but he could've been around for a while--the country at least, and last night was just when you so happened to see him.

"they met back in the states, when yeonjun was studying in new york. he haven't told me a lot about it either but i'm guessing it's something to do with his dance studio."

ah, so that's where san moved... new york.

"i see," you simply reply and leave it there, unwilling to ask any more or show the slightest interest in san's whereabouts even if you are intrigued because you know how much yeonjun lives and breathes dancing.

he even managed to open up his own studio, and you may not know a lot about san now or how much he's changed, but you remember his answer whenever you'd tell him to pursue his interest.

you never thought you'd see san and dance in the same sentence ever again.

you try to not let the threats of him distract you, but you still can't help but watch your back and surrounding everytime you leave into the hall, so fearful you're gonna smack or run into him and be left with nothing but the choice to face the ghost of your past.

you're not gonna let him have the power he once had over you, but that doesn't mean you're not dreading seeing him.

he's always been perfectly sculpted and too handsome for his own good, the last few years turning him even more menacing in terms of appearance, it's annoying if anything.

it doesn't have the same effect it used to, your eighteen year old self would've fallen to her knees and make an offering, but now, you can admit he looks good and just move the hell on.

but you still don't want to see him.

a few days of sneaking and hiding around like you're a spy in some undercover movie, you think you've officially lost your mind.

that maybe the universe's done enough damage and has taken a backseat, all your fear and paranoia all for nothing because there's no way you're gonna have to face san.

there's no way that on the day you finally decide to let your guards down and admit you're being overdramatic that you're gonna--

the sound of a door opening just as you close yours pick your head up in that direction, and out of every neighbors it could possibly be, of course it's san because why wouldn't it be?

he has a trash bag in one of his hands just like you and you can't help but to curse yeonjun's name for not taking out his own shit.

the world once again stops spinning and time stands still as both of your gazes burn into each other, his slightly hesitant eyes to your dull ones, just hoping he gets the fucking message.

that it's gonna be fucking awkward and since he still has his door opened, he can go the hell back in. act like this never happened because under any circumstances, you're not gonna talk to him.

you're also not gonna go back in now that it is what it is. you've already come so far and it's been years, it's about time you show than just tell.

show that he no longer has a hold over you and that you're not gonna cower like the once timid person you were.

you start by breaking the staring contest, straightening your posture and begin walking, not bothering to spare him another glance even as you pass right by him.

that it's more than enough signs and he'll just let it go. but it's san after all, and why would you ever expect him to do anything right?

"can we please--"

"--no," you cut him off so fast, his words more triggering than predicted and you can't really believe he's even trying.

"i know that--"

"i don't want to hear it!" you finally turn to him, all kinds of anger and disbelief coursing your face as tears threaten to pour and making your eyes red.

don't want to hear about the heartbreak and lies all over again; how and why you're not the one, and relive the miserable days once more.

"i don't care what you have to say because i don't want to hear it," you go on, voice and legs trembling but persisting nonetheless, "what happened between us is over. it ended, so i'd like it if you can keep it that way because there's nothing else to talk about."

and with that, you're walking away. you don't bother to wait for his response and you don't care to, but the silence protrudes until you hear the door shut behind.

~

"so you're not even a little bit curious in what he has to say?"

"no."

"or what he's been up to?"

"why the fuck would i be?"

"because you gave your pussy to him and he made your heart flutter like no others."

"what the fuck, mingi," you hiss into your phone, "weren't you the one preaching about not even giving him the time of day?"

"no no, of course, fuck that guy. i'm just saying that if he has something to say, aren't you just the slightest bit curious what it is? don't you want to hear about how pathetic and miserable he was during the time apart, or how sorry he is?"

you raise an eyebrow, replying with a perplexed but definite "no."

"okay, i'm proud or whatever," he says nonchalantly, and you can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.

"there's no need to hear him out and even if he is sorry, i don't care. i'm over that shit and i'm over him."

"yes! so don't let me find out otherwise," he snarks, and you hate that he can't be serious for a second unless you two are at each other's throats and about to start yelling.

"you're annoying. bye."

you hang up, throwing your phone aside and eyes glued to the white ceiling that suddenly has such an entrancing pattern.

surely, you don't care. what he's been up to the past five years, or why he decided to come back.

there's also no reason to hear him out; the last conversation between the both of you more than enough to sum it up. he's hurt and used you beyond belief and that's that.

“i-i just feel like you never tried enough. maybe i’m not fond of who you are currently, but i could learn to–”

“please don’t make it any more harder than this, y/n. you don’t get with someone hoping you can learn to tolerate them… that’s not how it works.”

“you’re a nice girl, y/n. you really are so sweet, and i can see myself with you someday…” he says with a distraught look you will forever remember given how his words make your heart thump, only to then shoot it down, “but not right now…”

you cringe at how pathetic you were, so desperate for his reciprocation as if it was the sole thing keeping you alive and breathing.

but you've been fine and haven't moped about him in probably three years, so you will continue to be fine, whether or not you'll really hear from him, all the things he's been waiting to say.

"any plans for tomorrow?" you casually ask arin during break, your focus on the laptop and skimming through the drafts you've written, you don't catch the very moment she just freezes up tight-lipped.

"i'm going to see a movie," she answers.

"oh?" you nod it off, unsuspecting to the tension uprising and going on to ask in a cool tone, "what movie?"

it's not like you want to be invited; you and arin are perfectly fine being apart and doing your own things from time to time, but it's lunch and it's where you and her usually engage in topics and conversations of all kind just to pass time.

"the new superhero one." she lets a few seconds go by before adding, "with yeonjun."

you freeze in position then, though missing her nervous and anxious tone from before, it all makes sense.

she's gonna be with yeonjun, and with yeonjun comes someone else. she was afraid to bring it up; knows almost everything between you and san by now and knew you were most likely to reject the offer to go to the movie if he's gonna be there.

even if she loves going to the theater with you, the rants and comments after about what you both loved or hated the best part of the entire experience, but she was afraid.

"oh, i see," you dismiss, relaxed tone and a smile like it doesn't affect you. "heard lots of positive reviews about it, you guys are going to enjoy it for sure."

you try not to let the thought bother you for the rest of the day, but it does.

not of arin because you know she's sweet and kind and even asked again before she went home if you're okay with it, and you assured her you are.

she and yeonjun can't possibly cater to you and san just because you both happened to have some intertwined history they weren't even aware of beforehand.

no. you can't stop letting san fuck with your head. surprise?

can't stop overthinking and being spiteful that he was the one who fucked you over, yet you're the one having to accomodate while he's still shameless after all these years.

so he still has some effect on you, but you bet they're not the ability to summon butterflies or make you pink in the cheeks, maybe just red in the face.

because on top of learning to not let everyone step all over you, you also picked up on how to be a bit of a bitch. not your proudest accomplishment but a much needed one for survival.

you shouldn't have to step aside for him, tell him you don't want to talk, or run away as if he's the plague. it's been years, you said it yourself, and there's no reason to not hang with your friend or go see a movie you're interested in just because san is gonna be there.

you roll around in bed until landing in a comfortable position, eventually going to sleep with the thought.

~

"are you sure?" arin asks once again, the soft concerned accent in her voice.

"yes."

you've made your mind overnight, that you're not gonna run or cower. he no longer has ownership over you and you're gonna go see the movie.

"alright. if you really are sure, pick you up at four."

you get ready around three, do your hair and dress up a little just to look somewhat presentable and wait until there's a knock at the door, arin having texted thirty minutes ago you'll all be going in her car since the theater is closer to the complex.

somehow, you're not dreading or feeling even the slightest nervous at having to share a car ride with san or spend two hours at the cinema with him just a couple seats down.

when you do see him out in the hall, his freshly showered hair still wet and he has on a matching grey set of joggers and hoodie, his hands buried inside the pockets of his pants as he lasers you a look of surprise.

he didn't think you'd come because you most likely knew he's gonna go.

the ride down the elevator and most in the car thankfully drowned by arin's and yeonjun's constant chattering, talking like they're never gonna run out of topics.

but it makes the situation all more better and less awkward considering you're sitting in the backseats with san, but your attention out the window the entire time, mind either occupied with their conversation or the low volume music.

"y/n, i heard you got employee of the month again."

the call of your name pulls you away and to yeonjun's eyes as he looks over his shoulder before he blinks and turns back.

"ah, yes i did."

your friend has a habit of telling other people your business, but in her defense it's only because she wants to show you off since you're so great--taken by her word for word.

"arin's told me a lot about your writing," he casually adds, seconds before your friend starts doing what she does best.

"she's the best!" she squeals, and you have to hold back a snicker.

"how'd you get into it? your friend hasn't told me that part, shockingly," yeonjun says, amusement in his tone and taking the chance to tease his girlfriend.

"i--" you start but arin beats you to it.

"she started with a journal or notebook first, i think!"

you don't know whether to find it annoying or endearing, your eyes rolling but lips pulling into a smile.

"yeah," you let your friend have it, but the smile soon fading when you can feel the pair of eyes on you burning from the side, though you won't dare check it for yourself.

you also won't tell them why you started it in the first place, or how much the boy sitting next to you played a part in it.

"we're here!" arin announces, pulling into a parking space.

going to the movies also follows a routine; purchasing the tickets, getting a drink and popcorn if you're up for it, then going to find your seats.

san is seated next to yeonjun, and you next to arin, your eyes occasionally batting from the screen to your friend as she passes comments to her boyfriend when she'd have something to say about a scene.

the situation all too relaxing and calm, just exactly what you need for your mind to destress and just focus on what's happening; whether the characters' motivations or the great worldbuilding.

no need to worry about anything else, your stomach and chest still relaxed, nothing like the situation after the premiere that constricts the both of them as a wave of uneasiness wash over.

now regretting not following after your friend and just lying about having to use the restroom as well, because if you did, you wouldn't be stuck waiting in the hallway with san.

he's standing a feet from you, you can't really tell. but your gaze is nothing but trained on the restroom's doors wishing for either arin or yeonjun to finish fast enough.

but at least you're both kept company by the exit of other people leaving their auditorium, and the ones trying to find theirs.

you think you've done enough of a good job in letting san know you don't want anything to do with him, especially when it comes to compromising or making amends.

that he'd get it by now you don't even want to talk. after this, you both can go back to living separate lives and put on the act of not knowing each other the way it's been.

"congrats on getting employee of the month."

the voice makes you shudder, the reaction you want to give bordering annoyed and angry.

"i already told you i don't want--"

"i know. i know you don't want to hear any of it, and i won't try it now. but i just really wanted to tell you that because you deserve to hear it."

you fume through your nose, not wanting to have to look him in the eyes or give into his attempt at starting a conversation, but you can feel him looking you down, if the uncomfortable ting from the side of your face means anything.

"thanks, but i've heard enough from others to know i deserve it," you reply, your delivery sharp and straightforward, and san can't help but to smirk at that.

he knows he doesn't deserve to be heard; get the chance to explain himself and all the mistakes he's made because then it would be unfair to you.

calling them mistakes would be downplaying all the hurt and pain he's put you through, because at the time, it was his choice to make them. his choice to deceive and lie to you when he never had any sincere intentions.

he isn't proud of them, but that was who he was, and he owns up to the fact he was so horrible back then. undeserving of sympathy, affection, or being loved, and yet, you still gave him all three with your entire heart.

he can't say he deserves it now either despite some life altering decisions and soul searching, but he can say he's less of a shitbag to some extent.

still, your forgiveness is something he don't think he'll ever rightfully deserve.

another thing still the same is how much he likes everything about you, and seeing you again after all these years; after how much you've changed, he might like you even more.

no longer the soft spoken and afraid girl always holding back, but now with a sharp tongue and snippy attitude that speaks her mind.

who, different from the last time he saw you years ago, has on a new distinct style to complement the woman you've become--your hair always perfectly curled at the tips, your makeups more bold and edgy, and you don't shy away from showing any skin.

you walk around with more confidence without coming off arrogant, san still able to see the sweet and kind girl even through all the changes because that will always be who you are at the core--someone too easy to fall for and like.

"i have to apologize for the inconvenience, but just one more day and you won't have to worry about running into me anymore. i'll be staying somewhere else until i get approved for a place myself," he announces to utter silence, you standing there and not knowing what to say.

when the tense air stretches on, he speaks again, "also, i hope you'll be willing to hear my apology out even if just once. not for me and all my excuses, but because you deserve it. that's all."

you open your mouth, another dismissive comment about to slip about the wrath of being arin's and yeonjun's friends unavoidable but a buzz in the pocket of your jeans cut it short.

your eyes widen and lips pulled into an amused smile at the person who finally texted back, san catching the displayed name just right before you put it away at arin's return.

kang yeosang: hey, i'm so sorry for not answering sooner. i keep knocking out after school or work 🤦 but i'm doing great actually lol, and i hope you are too. would you like to meet up tomorrow? i'll finally be off and will have some time.

you've been here a couple of times, the cafe with a warm toned brown as its primary color, and menu and size two times bigger than the smaller one back at university.

you don't come often, but you do always feel welcomed. the aesthetics pleasing to the eyes and the staffs always friendly with warm smiles.

yeosang is seated at the corner, a small two person table, and his smile at the sight of you also makes you feel so warm.

"hey," you greet, pulling the chair as you take a seat.

"hey," he returns, unable to help the giggle that follows after, finding something so amusing about finally seeing each other again after four months despite being the only two still in the same city.

there's not a lot about him that has changed, except he's risen higher than any of you, but he's still just as handsome, welcoming, and obviously meant for bigger and better things.

but with yeosang, it is always so pleasant and safe.

in another reality; an alternate universe somewhere out there, you think yeosang might've been the one for you. even if he's too perfect for his and your own good, you'd come around to the idea that you do deserve someone like him.

someone who was such a mystery at first and had you believing he was the biggest asshole to walk the planet only to completely prove you wrong.

someone who showed patience time and time again that he was willing to wait, because he had so much love and sincerity to give if you were to accept his heart.

it was the perfect enemies or friends to lovers, and oh... it would've been so beautiful. it was quite close to the kind of fairytale love you always imagined; something too unrealistic and borderline delusional, but yeosang was real and ready to make it happen.

you never did give him your heart, though there was no rejection or denial. it just happened...

he waited for you, never pushy or pressuring, always so understanding of the fact you were healing and needed time. admitted to having a 'little' crush on you and whenever you were ready, you could consider.

you kept it in thought, then a month turned into three, and three turned into six, then a year, and suddenly you realized you had put it on the back burner for two years already.

it's not that you didn't like him. of course you like him, but you just weren't sure if you liked him like that.

so when he started acting off; not cold or indifferent, but actually smiling more and his head always somewhere else, it all made sense when a new face started to show at the pc shop on the regular.

yeosang met someone else.

and truthfully, you couldn't be any happier for him, because he deserved someone who wanted to be with him and who will love him in that moment.

every time your two best friends asked why you let a man of yeosang's caliber slip right out of your hand, you were never able to give them a definite answer, unsure of it yourself.

you guys were great friends and meshed so well together even without all the budding romance, and you didn't see why that needed to change--you suppose.

you had assured him it was all good and fair, that it is so natural for feelings to develop and for some to die out, especially over a long period--he needed to just go for it.

you like to think you earned another lifelong friend, even if he's busy most of the time and you'll be seeing each other at most only four times a year.

"want to order something first?" you suggest, quirking an eyebrow.

he hums with a nod, arms crossed in a relaxed manner.

you both order no more than two cups of americano, the taste of the black style coffee something you used to dislike because of the lack of sweetness, but yeosang got you growing fond of it after a while.

"how's everything?" you start again, "the job? school? other things?" you let just the faintest smirk cross your lips, much to the mirth on yeosang's.

"i want to say good but it's all really just a pain in the ass. the job and school, that is."

you snicker and he does the same, your frame slightly leaning over the table before passing a comment, "at least other things are going well."

"yeah." he smile. "but school will be over soon and that'll be that. the lead in my department likes my work enough so hoping for a promotion around the corner."

"you'll get it. for sure."

you both thank the waiter after the drinks' arrival, one of your hand fidgeting at the handle of the cup watching as he takes a sip.

"but i'm excited to be seeing everyone else the next month or so," he says, his turn be the one to watch.

"me too. we'll do karaoke, play stupid games, and maybe just drink a little."

you were also never great with alcohol but you've built more tolerance for it over the years given how your friends are.

"yeah, a little," yeosang quips, and you both giggle, knowing it's never just a small amount with mingi and yuna before they'd want everyone else to get as equally wasted.

"and you? anything new?" he asks, much to the fall of your expression as you begin fighting with yourself internally.

decide on whether you should or should not tell him of the tragedy that struck just a couple of days ago; the one that sent you five years back and to a place so dark.

but it's yeosang, and he will understand. he always does.

"i uh, i ran into san again," you break it sharp and quick, his relaxed face and posture tensing up.

"oh? what the fuck."

"yeah. he's friends with arin's boyfriend and it's an unbelievable amount of fuckery."

"thought he was being a dickhead somewhere else, and not in the country," yeosang takes a jab, always squeezing in the opportunity to do so, because he really does think san is such a horrible person.

he don't know how much the man's come to grovel, but for one to act like that and hurt another the way he did, it takes some malice at the core.

"he did meet her boyfriend while somewhere else," you enlighten, the fact not one you're happy to know about or tell.

yeosang quiets for a second, asking hesitantly, "did he tried talking to you?"

you nod, much to his expectation.

"yeah. but i shot him down the first time, and the second... i don't know. we talked but he didn't try apologizing or anything."

“also, i hope you’ll be willing to hear my apology out even if just once. not for me and all my excuses, but because you deserve it. that’s all.”

"and do you want him to apologize?" he asks, his voice stern and serious.

you freeze up at the question, all this time talking so big about not wanting to hear from san or whatever because he's hurt you enough, but you really don't know.

it's been years and you've moved on, but you do acknowledge the part of you that reserves a special place for him; him who was your first love and was once something you held on a pedestal.

"it would take a lot more than an apology for what he did," you answer, lacking just the smallest confidence.

"no, of course it's gonna take more than an apology. he did a lot of shitty things to you, but you shouldn't hear him out for the purpose of forgiveness, but because it's the least he can do for the hurt he's caused you. the apology isn't about him, but you."

yeosang's words stays with you for the rest of the day, and it doesn't get any better--mingi's also comes back as a haunting, making you turn and toss in bed.

“so you’re not even a little bit curious in what he has to say?”

“no.”

“or what he’s been up to?”

“why the fuck would i be?”

“no no, of course, fuck that guy. i’m just saying that if he has something to say, aren’t you just the slightest bit curious what it is? don’t you want to hear about how pathetic and miserable he was during the time apart, or how sorry he is?”

then what san said back at the theater also makes a reappearance, each of them taking turn to mess with your head and rethink: are you okay with never knowing what san was gonna say?

maybe it isn't gonna be as deep or remorseful as you hope, but he very clearly wants to say something to you, and you have to make a choice between finding out what it is or live your life with the mystery in mind.

you hate to say it, but you think the latter might be more painful, your mind always so itching and curious.

you might need to talk to him tomorrow, for just one last time.

you wake up way too early for your own good, not even urgent to get ready for work for another hour.

but you need to talk to san. make it quick and over with, then go on your own way like it's been.

you're barely a step out, the door not even closed yet when you can feel something under your slipper, glancing down to see you've stepped on a white envelope... addressed to you and from san, the date almost from a year ago.

you open it, seated on your couch and with a racing heart.

dear y/n,

i am finally writing this letter. i’ve sat down many times attempting to do so, sometimes barely able to get through the first line and sometimes i’ll read the first paragraph i wrote only to throw it away, completely unsatisfied. but it’s been four years–at least at the time that i’m writing this–that i’ve last seen you. four years since we saw each other and we probably won’t for a very long time, if ever.

it would be a miracle for me if i was to ever cross paths with you even just one more time, but it would be a tragedy for you because i’d like to think fate wouldn’t be so cruel to put you through that. so i write this letter with the thought that you would most likely never see it, but i did promise myself that if fate really is that cruel and we were to cross paths again, i would give it to you. it’s a bit selfish of me, but it’s because i know the chance of ever seeing you again is close to none. but it’s also everything i’ve ever wanted to tell you; say to you. i want to apologize sincerely, even though it’s a little too late. in a way, this letter is also an outlet for me and my thoughts.

it’s been about a year since i’ve graduated and around this time of the year, i always get a little sentimental. could be because i’m so far away from home so it’s only natural, but i know it’s because it’s summer and i tend to associate the season with you. we did a lot together and you opened some parts of me i couldn’t say or admit at the time.

you would always used to tell me to just try whenever i didn’t see the worth in doing something and i honestly just dismissed it because it sounded silly and quite cliche. i thought it was ironic coming from someone so shy and timid who always looked at the world with so much fear in her eyes. now, i’m starting to understand the amount of courage it must’ve taken you to even go out of your comfort zone. i realized, i was so much of a coward in comparison despite thinking i was the hottest shit at the time.

i always ran, but you never did. i was so scared of anything new and unfamiliar but you always faced them even when there’s a likely chance of failure. i treated you like shit and you still wanted to love me. i think about it often… why are you this way? but i won’t ever know because i never put in the efforts to get to know you beyond what you could offer me. you always asked about me but i never did the same in return.

if i could redo everything, i would want to hear your story. i would love to read anything you write. i said i would, but i never did.

i’m in the states, i’m sure somewhat and somehow you probably already know that (or you probably don’t because you don’t care anymore, which is fair). i left right before the start of the second semester during sophomore year. it was a big decision for sure, but i needed the change. things were already getting stale and repetitive, and you know me… i am not one to stick in one place for too long. i will always run, and so i ran to the states to live with my sister.

other than the fact i was born there and half of my family resides there, at that point, there was nothing left for me in korea. i didn’t have much to lose if i were to fly across an ocean and start anew.

wooyoung had already cut contact with me by then and any friends close to genuine i’ve ever had were all from associations with him. soon after, i realized anyone i still talked to were all phonies who i only hung around during parties and stupid rendezvous, with the exception of jongho. he got into yonsei, by the way. if you didn’t see him pestering you on campus, you probably already picked that up. he sent me a message a few months ago to come back and attend his graduation but i told him to fuck off because he didn’t attend mine either. good for him, though. he’s a smart kid.

but yeah. wooyoung’s a good person even if he grew up privileged. it’s what makes him such a people magnet. he was the most genuine friend i’ve ever had and the one who stuck by me for the longest. i really took him for granted and it only hit me when i lost him.

you are fortunate to have someone like mingi and yunho who seems very protective. i was a little scared when wooyoung warned me about mingi because he threatened to knock me out if he ever sees me. he’s much taller than me, so i don’t doubt it.

i know i sound miserable so far, but i am actually doing pretty okay… unfortunately. you probably don’t want to hear that and wish i was suffering, but i’ve suffered for maybe two and a half years before i finally felt somewhat content and okay, if that will make you feel any better.

the states is different and the people are as well. i’ve got to experience a lot of new things for a change.

when i transferred, i still didn’t know what to do. the clock was ticking and there was only so little time before i had to pick a field. i ended up going into dance performance, and of course i thought of you. when i found a passion for it again, i thought of you. and when i graduated last year with a fine arts degree, i thought of you… all because i knew you would be the happiest to hear about it.

whenever anyone asked me why i don’t want to come back home, i would always tell them what i told you: because there’s nothing left there for me. but one of the biggest reasons why i didn’t want to come back was because it reminded me of you too much. that, coupled with other factors, just makes it so much harder for me to want to return. it feels like reopening old emotional wounds that i have no one else to blame for but myself.

but my junior year, i met someone named yeonjun because we shared the same major. i get nostalgic sometimes because he often reminded me of wooyoung. speaking of wooyoung again, i sent him a similar letter but in email form a while ago, though not as long, and he said he was happy to hear from me again. i wasn’t sure if he was going to reply at all because it was an old email and i assumed he probably wanted nothing to do with me and that was official. but he replied pretty fast and said if i ever returned to korea, he doesn’t mind catching up. he went into business and said it’s something he actually really enjoys.

yeonjun is cool though, and like a less annoying version of wooyoung. he was also a transfer but had been here longer than i have. he met his girlfriend online who’s living in south korea and so after he graduated, he went back right away and said he was going to attempt to open his own studio. just about a month ago, he called me and said it’s almost done and he would be recruiting. he wants me to come back and help him and i’ve been giving it some consideration because i’m not doing much here back at the states either.

i was hesitant at first, of course. all for the reasons i’ve already stated, but all i ever do i run and even i’m growing tired of it. no matter how many bad memories the place holds, it is still home and my motherland after all.

anyways, i apologize for rambling. the letter is getting way too long, but my point is, i might’ve started liking you at one point. not in the casual way that our relationship was, but actually really like you. i don’t know. now that i’m older, it’s true that the love you’ve given me was something i was not ready for at that time and age. and now, it’s everything i wish i have. funny how time really does change a person.

i hope you are doing good for yourself, and i’m so sorry if you ever get the chance to read this letter.

– choi san

you don't even register you're crying despite the burning in your eyes until a lone tear stains the last page.

your heart and emotions so conflicted but also whole, unable to help the warmth and love that wraps your body even for just a moment.

because san felt something. through all of the lies and deceit, there were some sincerity, because an even bigger question you had all these years was whether he ever meant any of it.

when he kissed you, fucked you, and looked at you, you always wondered if there was something else behind his actions--if even the smallest of liking you--not for what you could offer him, but for being yourself.

your weakness always having been too easily touched and moved, particularly when swayed by the name of choi san that you're already at yeonjun's doorstep with the letter still in your clutch.

your beating heart still loud but ready to face him with everything.

"oh, hey."

it's yeonjun and he's both surprise and happy at the sight of you, but definitely questioning of the puffy red eyes.

"i-is san here?" you ask in the most vulnerable tone he's ever heard from you, raising an eyebrow in return.

"he left just a while ago."

yeonjun doesn't get to interrogate the reason why you're asking or is at his door so early in the morning looking like you just had a breakdown, only watching in silence as you scuttle into the elevator.

you don't know how long he's been gone exactly (you really should've asked), but there's a chance he might not have gone far; you might still catch him if--

you thought you were prepared and ready, but when you actually see him, your body just kind of goes into shock.

he catches your nervous gaze, so scared before but relieved the instant he sees you--standing up from where he was waiting as you walk over.

the lobby still with some people and their chitters, but the air around both you and san so thick with a silence that you're desperate to break.

"yeonjun told me you left a while ago... i thought you were most likely gone," you speak, so shy and nervous all of a sudden, but determined nonetheless.

"yeah. i-i was going to, but i told myself if i don't see you within the next hour, then i'll really go. forget all of it."

it might be the first time he's ever stuttered in front of you, your heart once again somersaulting knowing he was waiting for you.

"oh..."

as much as san's gotten better, he will always be a little selfish. he knows he absolutely does not deserve your forgiveness or even to be talking to you, but you are someone special to him.

someone he didn't even think he'd get to ever meet again unless by some miracle, and for it to actually happen, it must be some sign.

that he at least need to try and fight before completely giving it up. just one hour, and if you didn't show, he'd let it be. take that as an answer and leave you alone forever.

"w-where are you going to be staying?" you attempt to carry a casual conversation.

"wooyoung," he answers, mouth forming into a smile you love all too much. "he said i can stay for a month before he'll kick me out."

you giggle and he does so, too, your eyes meeting momentarily as another silence fly by.

"i got your letter," you finally say, the one thing that was sitting on your chest so heavy.

he only nods, posture and everything about him so awkward, because it is.

admitting to your own fuck-ups is never easy, and especially when those fuck-ups messed with the lives of people. he is ashamed and embarrassed, to say the very least.

when he doesn't say anything, you try again, only getting as far in your sentence at the first "i'm..." before the emotions get the better of you--the crack in your voice and the waterwork.

san's hands are on you that instant, his hands wiping at your tears, and you think you're going to cry even more at the proximity; he's so close and it feels so wrong.

"i'm... i'm just so happy," you let it out, your gaze holding his and at the way he softens, you think you could die.

not just that he's incredibly handsome, but it's always been so easy to fall for him and want to give your all. like you can understand why your eighteen year old self wanted him so bad.

"i'm so happy that you liked me then," you finish off, a tad dramatic but thankful there isn't a lot of people in the lobby so early in the morning.

"i still like you now, y/n," he replies almost immediately, so much passion and sincerity in his voice, because he wants you to know that. he does like you.

"i was so stupid and immature and a complete dick. i am still a lot of those things, but god... you were amazing. you still are. and i had it so good and took it for granted. i just want to say, i am sorry... for everything. i already wrote it in the letter, but i want you to hear it, too, that i truly am so sorry."

the way you look at him the entire time too endearing; something he used to hate. your gaze always so attentive as if he holds the stars in them.

your lips are slightly pouting and if he was the man from before, he would've already kissed them. take them for himself and not care whether you wanted it or not.

but he already swore that he will no longer be crossing boundaries or doing anything just for his own self fulfillment.

you're about to say something but is cut off by the ringing of his phone, greatly saddened when he takes his hold off your face to fumble his pocket, taking a single glance at it.

"it's wooyoung. probably to complain because i told him i would be coming like twenty minutes ago."

you nod in understanding, mumbling, "you can go."

he exhales and looks down at you.

"i know this wasn't the best time and place to talk, but... if you want, just if you're okay with it... maybe we can talk again another time? no pressure, of course."

he waits for the stoic expression on you to turn into a smile as you respond with a soft, "i would love that." pausing just before adding, "my number is still the same."

"got it," he says, trying the hardest to hide a smile you can still see. the both of you just waiting in spot after because it's hard to leave.

"are you still gonna come visit yeonjun?" you suddenly ask, much to san's amusement, he can't help the smirk.

"yeah."

"okay, cool," you reply nonchalantly, acting the most aloof as your eyes shy away from his.

"then can i also ask you something?"

"go ahead."

he clears his throat, taking the shortest pause.

"are you seeing yeosang?"

you pinch in your brows at the question, puzzlement all over your face before breaking out a chuckle.

"no."

and if you are to ask him, he probably will never admit to the uneasiness ever since he saw yeosang's name pop up on your phone.

yeosang's a great guy and a perfect fit for you, but dare he say it, san would be heartbroken.

"okay, cool," he mimics you, eventually rubbing at the back of his neck, "gonna head out then. i'll see you."

"yeah. i'll see you."

you watch as he disappears into the distance, sparing another glance at the letter still in your hold, only shaking your head going back up the elevator to get ready for work.

damned choi san and the hold he still has over you.

a/n: dksdskdjfksi it is finally over!!! truly ty to everyone who stuck around even with all the bullshit bc i couldn't make up my mind half of the time. i did the yeosang girlies the dirtiest but believe me when i say we were SO CLOSE to a yeosang endgame. if anyone is interested in that, i would be happy to respond in an ask or reply. but they did have so much potential, i'm sorry sdlksijdkjsdl

again, ty 4 reading and have a wonderful rest of your day/night! onto better things, we go.

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @sannwa @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme @writersun @kkayfan @wooyoungjpg @galaxypox @byunniebaekhyunnie @vixensss @interweab @svintsandghosts @moonchele @atinyluv238

[itacats]

Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: trauma, war themes, prisoner of war, injury/allusions to torture, hallucinations, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Serving up Part 4 in this series just for you lovelies.

Read Part 1 here! Read Part 2 here! Read Part 3 here! Read Part 5 here! Read part 6 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here! Read Part 9 here!

Part 4: Ghosts of the Past

It was one of those nights—those endless, suffocating nights where time dissolved, and I was left alone with nothing but my thoughts and the dull ache of my tortured body. My captors had done their work well. The bruises and broken bones were reminders of their skill, but it was the mental torment that wore me down, fraying the edges of my mind until I felt it begin to slip. It was in this liminal space—between pain and oblivion—that my mind fractured. I found myself drifting, caught in a maelstrom of memories that weren’t entirely my own.

Echoes of torture interlaced with visions of Simon. Simon "Ghost" Riley, the man who had become my anchor in the dark, now drifted in and out of my mind as if he were standing right there with me. But it wasn’t just him. His past, his ghosts, bled into my thoughts. Images of his childhood, twisted and filled with the pain inflicted by a father who had never shown him love, flashed before my eyes. His brother, Tommy—another ghost, another shadow—hovered at the edge of my consciousness. The weight of Simon’s scars, both physical and emotional, seemed to press against my own, until I couldn’t tell where my pain ended and his began.

It was haunting. The duality of our suffering, the way it mirrored itself, sent shivers down my spine. Ghosts, I realized, persist in the presence of pain. And here, in this hellish place, I was surrounded by them—by my own, and by Simon’s. The lines blurred, and I found myself lost in the overlap, unsure of which torment belonged to whom. But in the middle of it all, Simon remained. His presence, though only a figment of my mind, was the only thing that kept me from fully succumbing to the darkness.

I understood then why my mind had conjured him. Simon was the embodiment of survival—someone who had been broken and rebuilt more times than any man should be. He wore his pain like armor, and now, in this place where my own armor had cracked, his memory became a balm. The sight of him, even imagined, was enough to remind me that survival was possible. He had been through worse, and yet he had come out the other side. So could I.

But there was something more than just survival. It was as if Simon could see through the mask I wore, the mask that kept my heart locked away. He had seen past it before, seen the fractured parts of me that I kept hidden from the rest of the world. It was ironic, really—Ghost, a man who hid behind a literal mask, was the one who had seen me most clearly. And now, even in this place of nightmares, his memory was cutting through the fog, reminding me of who I was beneath the layers of pain.

As my captors tightened their grip, I clung to those memories like a lifeline. They dragged me into rooms of horror, where they tried to break me over and over again. But each time, I held onto a different kind of memory—not of the pain, but of the fleeting moments of freedom that had once defined my life. I imagined my comrades, my newfound family, realizing I was gone. I could see the looks on their faces as they pieced together what had happened. They wouldn’t leave me here. They wouldn’t let me rot in this forsaken place. The bond between us was too strong.

But as the months dragged on, and the torture became routine, a gnawing doubt began to take root. Did they still believe I was alive? Or had they accepted my fate, whispered my name as if it were already carved in stone? The thought twisted in my gut like a knife. I imagined them holding graveside vigils, speaking in hushed tones about the one they had lost. Was my name on a memorial somewhere? Were they already grieving for me?

The loneliness of that thought was worse than any physical pain I had endured. The idea that they might have moved on, that they had accepted my death, left a hollow ache in my chest that nothing could fill. It was as if I had already died, but I was still trapped in this broken body, unable to move on, unable to return to the world of the living. 

And yet, Simon's presence—his ghost—remained. He stood at the edge of my consciousness, a silent reminder that I hadn’t truly been abandoned. He had survived his own betrayals, his own losses. His family had turned on him, his comrades had been slaughtered, and yet he had found a way to claw his way out of the abyss. There was a strange comfort in that. If Simon could survive the hell he had lived through, then there was still hope for me. 

It was hope, not of rescue, but of resilience. I began to understand that this wasn’t just about being found. It was about enduring. About proving that I could withstand whatever they threw at me, that I could carry the weight of my ghosts without letting them crush me.

And in those long, sleepless nights, as I lay shackled to the walls of my cell, I made a vow. I would survive. I would hold onto the memory of Simon, of my team, of the life that still waited for me beyond these walls. And when the time came, when I was free of this place, I would return—not as a broken person, but as someone who had stared into the abyss and refused to let it swallow me whole.

But for now, I was still here, a prisoner of both my captors and my past. And the ghosts, mine and Simon’s, would keep me company until the dawn came. If it ever did.

Read Part 5 here!

Thank you for reading, lovely!

If you want to know more about when I'll be posting for this story and the WIP of a Mafia AU for the TF141 gentlemen, take a look at this!

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- pregnancy, 18+ words and themes overall, family death. Description of dying, description of decapitation, mention of sexual assault, blood, male castration, nudity (non sexual)

// A/N: just wanted to apologize for the broken links at the beginning of the book since i changed my username they haven’t been working but i assure you I’ll get to fixing them. I will also end up making a goggle docs with the entire book for downloading when this series ends//

previous chapter here.

Chapter 20

You watch as the snow covers the entire fields much farther out than the horizon allows your vision. The cold pricks at your skin but you do not budge. The feelign is most welcome if anything. Something, anything, that can allow you to continue to feel with out letting you go insane is welcome. Your finger tips numb as you took off your gloves hours ago. 

The only thought are flashes of sandor. The short time you spent together but your feelings for him oh so true. For the passed week you’ve taken the liberty to sit outside on the balcony way, for hours, and watch the lifeless wasteland of white powder upon the once green lands. if it was ever green at one point. If the green had been frosted over just as your heart breaks upon it. 

Your hand rests against your raising stomach as the tears dry-freeze against your cheeks the second they fall from your eyes. the well threatening to freeze your eye itself if your body did not persist on blinking every few seconds. Regardless of your tone your cheeks ears and nose are blushed pink with the frost. Already a widow when you and your love had such little time. 

“Your grace...” You hear joss’s voice but it leaves you to frown at the high title he called you. Your gaze doesn't budge from the scape as he speaks however.

“Your grace? i…” he trail off looking down. Normally around this time joss would come and collect you to head inside as the fear of you getting frost bite is one of most concern. However, the tone of his voice has a worse meaning than simply helping you back to your room. 

You take your eyes off the land to turn your head to him looking up to him from your seat. He holds a small scroll in hand, most likely from a raven. He fiddles with it between his fingers before taking notice that you want him to read it to you. 

“First…p-prince marco has arrived and is getting his quarters set up…” he trails off again knowing that’s not the new you care about nor want to hear. 

“Whats in your hand joss?” You ask. He sighs knowing the enviable was to pass and once again unscrolls the paper piece. He quietly clears his throat before beginning to read it. 

“As of Earliest of November…in the evening. H-her grace, first of her name, queen of volantis, mother of the side tides has passed away due to the illness that has plagued the regions of the east essos sea…” Joss reads.

”….She went peacefully in her sleep and was found by her ladies in waiting. This notice herby declares, her highness y/n vixen of house vixen, first of her name, princess and heir to the throne and essos sea, Queen of volantis…H-hence forth ravens have been sent out to all parties of land to inform those of the recent and sudden crowing of her new grace.” He finishes. 

There was some part of you that new your mother would not survive the sickness that was brought onto the east as she began showing signs not soon after your fathers death, and you begged her all the more to come to the north and let the illness die out against it. Alone. Scared. Queen. Mother. All the things that could now define you. 

A princess, now queen, with a sickly home, no husband, child on the way, living in the most male dominated part of the north side. And the next time you face on of those men they are obligated to bow at the thought of you an preach out ‘your grace.’

”joss.” You say looking back to the snowy land. 

“Y-yes your grace?” He asks. 

“I am your friend. Am i not?” You ask 

“yes your grace you are.” He replies. 

“And i am your queen, as of now.” You say 

he nods once more. 

“Yes. Your grace.” He replies again. 

You turn your head looking at him once again before your eyes grow cold and your gaze hardens. 

“Tell me…do you know of any living reltives prince marco has?” You ask 

“His father your grace, he however has succumbed to the illness on the eastern essos and should meet the gods not so long.” He replies to you. 

“Hm and…what should happen if he doesn't rise to king?” You ask once more. 

“The palaces should join under the vixen name your grace. Her or his grace should rule over the rest of essos.” He says 

“hmm..Have seven men strip and beat the prince marco in middle of courtyard. Pay them well. On account of the attempted rape and abuse of her grace and her squire, as well as the mistreatment of the staff and harbinger.” you order. You stand up taking the blanket from your lap and wrap it around your hands to warm them back up. 

“And, how severely would you like it, your grace?” He ask trying to hide the smirk on his face. 

“Until he begs, cry, urinates, and dies screaming out for mercy.” You say. He takes a short bow before turning and walking back presumably to gather the men. Were you being cruel? Yes, some might not think it so and you were one. You have a new power, unfortunately this cannot bring back your husband… but you can treat your threats as he would. After all he split a mans jaw for you, killed for you, threatened for you. What better way to ode his memory than make a sacrifice of something he would fo none the less. 

Almost as fast as you had it ordered you heard men laughing and yelling. You began your walk down the outer hall of the fort following and watching as three men dragged the prince out of wherever he was placed before hes thrown into the muddled snow. 

“HOW DARE YOU HANDLE ME WITH SUCH DIST-“ he cut off by a swift punch to his face. 

“Shut the fuck up.” One of the men laughs leading the others to do so. Three of the men are men of the nights watch and the other four are both guards that came with you and thier ‘beloved prince.’ You hear foot steps as joss makes his way to you and taking his rightful place next to you. 

Marco is grabbed and his clothes are taken by the men, the expensive fabric ripped and cut from his body. More and more men gather around to watch the spectacle of the prince being mistreated. As per your orders he stripped completely nude and thrown into the ground when the men kick and hit him picking him up throwing him around each other like a doll.

When he cannot stand the force him up and toss him back and fourth each taking turns to punch or abuse him. The red stains of blood on the snowed ground mixed with the mud underneath are bright against the white. The sound of heavy footsteps on the wood turn your head as you see john walk up to you. As the blood curdling scream of Marco is wailed out as the men cut off both his cock and balls.

“Did you order this!?” John exclaims. You put your hand up as the men stop leaving Marco clutching his crotch bleeding profusely into the snowy ground.

“yes.” You say without any hesitation. He double takes back to you in surprise that you didn’t hesitate.

”you’re humiliating and killing a prince, You’ve castrated him! In side the wall of castle black.” He says 

“yes..yes I am.” You answer. 

“Why? With all do respect your grace you do not have to explain your self but-“ 

“you are correct my lord, i do not have to explain myself so i will not. He’s been stripped of his title and dignity and i plan to strip him of his life.” You say harshly. 

“You cannot!” John pleads. 

“And you care for him how?” You ask he’s quiet as you wait for an answer. 

“your grace i-“ he begins. 

“Are you protesting?!” You snap at him. He dosnt answer just goes quiet. 

“Y/n.” You see Sansa walks up behind john you look at her as she walks up to you taking your hands in hers. You look down at them before looking back up to her face your eyes dulled as she stares back to you. she isn’t going to tell you to stop, not because you are queen and no matter how much she were to yell you would do so anyway, but because she would, and has, done the same thing. 

She lets go of you moving to your other side before linking arms with you. and looking down everyone looks up to you waiting for any sign of your approval. 

“Kill him.” You speak. Bloody and battered barley able to make function Marco is pulled up by his hair and is dragged over to a stump. He begins to plead but his yelps are cut short by the quick slicing of metal against his skin as his head rolls off his body and onto the ground with a thud. 

“You protest with any other of my decisions. It will be your head that rolls in the courtyard next.” You say to john before lets go of Sansa and walking to your room joss following close behind. 

————

The days and weeks pass on slow. The same pace following the day. You’ve had some of the knight teach joss basic fighting skills in case they are needed. John has left to convince the dragon queen to help fight in his war against a winter zombie hes adamant about. You help Sansa in the kitchen once in a while as castle black doesn't have much staff. You quite enjoy the slight cooking and cleaning give you something todo, and the men enjoy it all the more having a true woman’s cooking. 

Your ladies in waiting have been a help as well for you and your ever growing state. The next few days you will be coming up on 7 months pregnant. The fear of giving birth and raising your child with out his father becomes more and more real. 

As john left you, Sansa and the others have begun to pack thier things to make way back to her home, winterfell as now needed to be rightfully claimed back by the family. Sansa cannot stop raving on about the new gowns and winter clothing she wants you and her to match in. Whenever she is with you all the trauma and pain she's endured the last new years has completely disappeared. She’s once again the happy little girl when you both first met. 

She goes on and on about the bakery in the town side, that serves the best raspberry cakes. And how the snowbells bloom regardless of the ice sheet that covers the road way.

Your things are placed onto the back of the cart as you and Sansa mount horses as riding in the cart or carriage would be a bit too dangerous as the wheels might come from under it and topple. 

Joss rides behind you staying close to you on his own horse monitoring your every move growing more and more worried with your state everyday. He makes sure you're warm, and well taken care of especially more so now with the soon upbringing of a prince or princess. 

“Joss.” You say his name. He hurriedly kicks up on his horse coming closer to you. 

“Yes, your grace?” He asks eagerly. 

“You need not ride so close. I'm fine, i'm pregnant, not elderly.” You say. He gulps awkwardly before moving his horse back a bit. 

“Yes, your grace.” He says once more. Sansa glances at joss before rolling her eyes which makes you laugh. 

You arrive at winterfell and youre carefully helped off your horse. Sansa is eager to grab you and give you a tour of the entire thing. It seems to have been cleaned and prepped for the arrival as the Boltons betrayal of it couldn’t be seen as kind. She shows you everything from the outer courtyard, the garden, the walls, and all the rooms including the servant quarters but your most favorite is the weirwood tree that grows in the back of the center. 

“My father would come out here with my brothers and john and give them fighting lessons. Arya would join in and of course take them all down even at her small size, but he would tell them that no matter how hard something can be you should never succumb to it. No battle lost and no lives passed in vain.” She says as you stare at its albino beauty. 

“Why does it cry?” You ask. She shrugs. 

“I dont know.” She says before dragging you back off to your chambers showing around. 

“The closet, and bed, and the fireplace, and the…closet.” She trails off leaving you both laughing. You pull her into a hug thanking her for everything so far in keeping her happy and safe. Thus far.

Next chapter here

TAGLIST. If you’d like to be added to the tag list please leave a comment down below.

Taglist @stephyshadows@germansarechill@urfavbiscuit@daphneyblue@takemeaemond@holb32@allison-119@pxstelink@imsolonelyimissyou@myshitaccount@broadsdrinkwhisky@@evie-beanie@eulysa23-2@greeknymph18@rudiruds@ex160-blog1@im-an-assho1e@chompwoman@heartb8k2@lovely--lover ex160-blog1 @midnightprocrastinator @haus-of-a-thousand-fandoms @friendlyspacemartian