#And from the sound of it that's going to be explored a bit in this arc

[jeanjauthor]

I got 160, though whether that's CE or BCE is up for debate. Except it doesn't matter. My quality of life goes downhill due to a lack of diabetes & ADHD management medications...but if I can hold it together long enough, the Coastal Salish folks will have a quantitiative leap forward in their quality of life.

You see, while the local clay bodies suck badly for anything other than making bricks at best (it's why they invested in steam-bent wood cooking boxes that were heated with cooking stones), there ARE plenty of copper & iron deposits (if not the highest quality for the latter) in the area, limestone deposits for lowering the melting point of iron ore, and not only plenty of wood for turning into higher-temperature charcoal...but there are coal deposits within the Puget Sound area--we literally have a coal-rich site called Newcastle, nicknamed after the same coal-bearing location in the British Isles.

More than that, the Coastal Salish people already knew the value of iron long before European colonizers came along. Chinese folks traded all the way up the Kamchatka peninsula as far as the Aleutian Islands, who traded down the coast of Alaska & British Columbia with the Haida, who traded with the Salish. When the first white explorers reached this area, some of the Salish had iron tools. They were heavily ground down and basically heirloom inheritances, but they were genuine trade goods that had been exchanged all the way from the forges and smithies of China.

(I'm not sure how far back this trading took place, but if you go back far enough in Chinese art, you can see a distinct similarity in some of their pieces to the styles of the art of the Haida & Salish coastal peoples.)

So I could totally introduce the Iron Age to North America well over a millennia earlier than it actually came along, and the Coastal Salish folks had a genuine caloric abundance of easily harvested foods, with managed orchards of white oaks for acorns and hazel trees for their nuts, plus a plethora of edible berries, over-abundant fish spawning seasons, a variety of edible bulb roots for starches, a relatively very mild climate, so on and so forth.

I'd just have to hurry to pass this knowledge along before my genetic inheritance from my grandparents offed me...and I'd have to be extra careful about not offing the local populations due to all of the diseases I'm carrying on my body. Also, the language barrier would be a wee bit of a problem. But conceivably, I could live for at least a few years!

The decade you’re given is the decade to which you’re transported. Your geographic location doesn’t change; only the time period changes. “Equivalent QOL” means a qualify of life that approximates the life you have now and anticipate being able to have in the future.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 17: The One About All the Hot Air

Oh, hey, hey, hey – what is that over there?

No, not that –

That!

Ah, fuck.

Is that what I think it is?

Yeah, yeah, it looks like some sort of hot air balloon.

Ugh, it’s that fucking wannabe Wizard! Get that manipulative shit-fuck outta here!

Seriously, don’t let it set foot on land. It’s not welcome on this side of Oz.

Someone release the flying monkeys! Like, now. Knock it out of the sky.

Wait, I thought the Wizard liked green. This weirdo has a red balloon.

Bitch, I didn’t say it was the Wizard; I said it was a wannabe Wizard.

Oh, no wonder it’s steering that balloon like a fucking clown.

Hell, I don’t even think we need the monkeys. That idiot is going to crash and burn itself straight into the glass walls of the Emerald Palace.

Well, you know what they say when you start throwing stones in a glass house…

It is slightly amusing (and a tad concerning) to me that children are always led to believe that the villain of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is that bitch of a Witch of the West when the worst character traits are actually portrayed by the Wizard himself. And, by “worst character traits,” I mean that he was a master manipulator who conned an entire city into believing he held some form of great power.

Did you know that in the original story the Emerald City wasn’t really that green? Sure, it was made from green glass and emeralds, but the Wizard required everyone to wear green-colored glasses so that everything appeared greener than it actually was. Weird, that. And, even more weird, people bought it! “Here, put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fully aware “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is a work of fiction, but the idea that people can be easily manipulated – especially by someone with “power” – is not fiction.

That’s what today’s piece of “hot air” is about – fandom manipulation and the power of suggestion. And who better than to manipulate an entire fandom than the media? It’s unfortunate that I have to give the media power in this story – and even more unfortunate that I have to give it to rag-mags and social media – but the reality is information is power, regardless of whether it’s misinformation. In fact, MIT Sloan did a study in 2018 demonstrating how false information spreads through social media, namely, Twitter, six times faster than true information. Disturbing, right? I don’t even want to know what the going rate for misinformation is in 2025.

And, of course, since I opened today’s story with a visit to the Land of Oz, we may as well take a day trip over to Australia. Remember how I told you Australia deserved an entry of its own? Well, this is it. No, not really. I did say this was a day trip, not a sleep-over, so it’s not going to be chucked full of shiny bracelets or ways to “keep a good girl down.” It’s just our starting point today.

In my first entry, I briefly described what brought me into this fandom. It was something Luke said – and not really what he said, but how he said it – that left me intrigued. He was being interviewed on the Bowral red carpet by “Gretchen from the Philippines.” Yes, that’s literally how she introduced herself! Could I instead refer to the nice lady by her real name (Gretchen Fullido)? Sure, but “Gretchen from the Philippines” is far more fun. Plus, it sounds kind of whimsical. Any ways, Gretchen (from the Philippines) asked Luke if, “in real life,” he’d support friends-to-lovers. Luke’s response was, well, a bit jumbled, which was what sparked my curiosity because his previous answers that day were, for the most part, articulate: “I would – I would support friends – I feel like it’s not something that – that I have in my li – that I resonate with – that I’ve experienced. But, you know, if my – if my friends wanted to explore a relationship with one their friends, go for it. I’ll support it.”

Something in the way Luke answered that question was like suddenly being able to see the forest for the trees. At that moment, I was convinced Luke had always been in love with Nicola, and everything else that went on during that particular red-carpet event (and thereafter) simply christened the USS Lukola. However, that comment by Luke – and a subsequent one he made in New York – would result in the addition of a lot of trees to our enchanted forest.

Now – I apologize – we need to borrow a hot air balloon, preferably one that can travel through time, and jump forward to November 5, London-time. I promise, we will return to Oz momentarily.

Oh, fuck.

What now?

That ridiculous faux Wizard is right behind us. I thought I told you to send in the monkeys!

Dammit, you said we didn’t need them! I left those fuckers back in Oz.

Well, umm, I think we might need them now.

Why??

Uhh, do you see those four-legged beasts on the ground chasing our balloon?

Oh, you mean those coyote-like creatures?

Yeah, but we’re not in the Americas – and those ain’t coyotes…

Ah, here we are: November 5, Claridge’s, London. This was the evening Nicola attended the Harper’s Bazaar Women of the Year awards. We’re only stopping in real quick to steal a piece of the speech Nicola gave that evening. Okay, got it! Let’s get the fuck out of here!

The part of the speech I wanted to share was this: “I did a six-month press tour for Bridgerton, the show which I love, and I’m so proud of. The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance, about my relationship…”

Hold up. Relationship? What relationship?

Did she say “relationship” or “relationships?”

Does it fucking matter?

Well, I guess not. But what does it mean?

I could tell you what I think it means… Wait a hot-air-balloon-minute – where the fuck have you taken us? I told you we needed to go back to April 21, Aussie-time. This looks like Soho in January.

Shit, sorry. Let me fix that. Here we go…

>>> 

Umm, hey, where’s that weird little red Wizard? I swear it was just behind us…

Eh, probably got stuck in Soho, hahaha. Guess it missed its exit.

Do you think that’s a good idea?

Yeah, sure. It’ll be fine…

We’ve returned to April 21, Bowral, Australia. Now, at this point in the timeline, World Tour interviews were already well underway. In fact, the first two parts of EmEdits on YouTube are entirely pre-Australia interviews, making up roughly 6 ½ hours of screen time. I’m not the least bit surprised that “Gretchen from the Philippines” asked Luke what his thoughts were on “real life” friends-to-lovers. The chemistry between Luke and Nicola was hard to ignore.

The Australian red carpet also introduced the hand holding, which – if we took another magical mystery tour over to May 9, Italy – Nicola and Luke agreed was a sign of “love.” I suppose I could buy the excuse that one or both had so much anxiety they needed the other’s hand to remain calm on the red carpet. But, nah, I wouldn’t buy that at all – for one very specific reason. When Luke and Nicola were seen leaving (I believe) the Milton Park Country House on April 23, Luke instinctively reached for Nicola’s hand as they were descending the steps. Why? This reflex by Cool Hand Luke was as natural as a pregnant woman touching her stomach. I ask again – why?

There’s only one answer.

It’s the answer that fits with the Claddagh ring. It’s the answer that fits with the side jaunt to Galway. It’s the answer that fits with their natural chemistry, the hand holding, the canned “shared experience” and “unique relationship” responses, the playful sexual innuendos. It’s the answer that fits with Luke’s “the best foundation for love is friendship” bracelet. It’s the answer that fits with Nicola’s remark about “[t]he amount of inappropriate questions I got asked…about my relationship…” It’s the only fucking answer that makes sense.

But, the real kicker is, why don’t people believe that is the answer?

Why is it so hard to believe that Luke and Nicola could be in a real-life relationship?

That’s easy – because the Man Behind the Curtain told us so.

Who is the Man Behind the Curtain? Well, that’s also easy. It’s collectively the rag-mags and the social media creators on the prowl for a following. It’s the spread of misinformation at its worst and it’s so incredibly easy to do with, say, a pair of green-colored glasses.

Like I said, “…put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”

There was one major plot twist that came out of the World Tour, and you already know what that is. The seed was planted with a New Year’s Eve kiss, fertilized with blurry pictures, a compulsory hallway hug, and copycat photos, and encouraged to grow with a bit of junk news and a lot of social media innuendo. Now, I’m not saying the video and photographic evidence that was presented was fabricated; I’m simply suggesting the narrative that came out that evidence was skewed. The media, namely, social media creators, pushed us to plant Lutonia trees while Luke’s actions (i.e., not acknowledging the existence of Lutonia) told us to “pay no attention to the Man Behind the Curtain.”

Uh, so, what you’re saying is we shouldn’t have left that wannabe Wizard in Soho?

Ah, shit! I forgot about that fucker!

The unfortunate thing about the Lutonia narrative was that it was bolstered by insinuation that Luke would never be interested in Nicola. Now, whether these remarks were deliberately planted, or they were simply seedpods carried away by a storm, they were not overlooked by Lukolas – or Nicola. In fact, Nicola herself brushed upon it in her Harper’s Bazaar speech: “The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance…” Yes, I’m referring to the suggestion that Luke preferred “brunettes” over “blondes.” Somehow this narrative was conveniently supported by the existence of – lo and behold! – the brunette “friend of a friend” Antonia, who happened to be slender. Again, whether it was intentional or not, the push by, initially, social media creators (and later gossip rags) to link Luke to Antonia inadvertently called the blonde in our story – Nicola – fat. I refuse to dance around that word because it is exactly what this disgusting narrative implied when it chose to compare Antonia to Nicola. Regardless of whether these gossipmongers “corrected” themselves by replacing “thin” with “brunette” and “fat” with “blonde,” the implication was that Luke would never be interested in Nicola because she had thick blonde hair. This was incredibly upsetting and confusing to many Lukolas because it was contrary to Luke’s behavior towards Nicola throughout the World Tour (and in Bridgerton behind-the-scenes clips).

I decided months ago that Luke was incredibly transparent. And, by that, I mean he’s terrible at keeping secrets. Luke himself admitted his “tell” to this was pulling at his ear – now go watch the World Tour with that information in mind. It’ll give you something to do, at the very least. Luke’s sincerity is also why the blonde versus brunette nonsense just doesn’t take flight for me. Any ways, as I hinted at earlier, Luke’s comments on the Bowral red carpet and his later comments in New York City about friends-to-lovers would – again, unfortunately – give the Man Behind the Curtain ammunition to debunk any real-life relationship between Luke and Nicola. Luke was quickly labeled as being “…dismissive of something ever happening between him and Nicola…” Those are literally the words The Tab used in an article dated May 22 to explain Luke and Nicola’s differing commentary about real-life friends-to-lovers. In fact, the article is titled, “Luke Newton has revealed the reason he’d never date Bridgerton co-star Nicola Coughlan.” Oddly – but not really given the source – Luke never actually said he would never date Nicola. But that fact didn’t stop it from becoming a theme of the World Tour – Luke didn’t believe in friends-to-lovers therefore he would never date Nicola – even though, by the end of the tour, Luke’s stance on this had seemingly changed. That’s not to say the rag-mags misquoted Luke – they didn’t – but the narrative they coiled around his words attempted to shut down the idea that Luke and Nicola would ever date in real life because Luke wasn’t interested. But what Luke was saying was that he believed in love-at-first sight. “I actually don’t think friends-to-lovers is something that happens in my life. If I meet someone, I know immediately.” Now, take that statement with the fact that Luke has repeatedly stated he remembers everything about the moment he met Nicola.

The above examples of gossip and innuendo are simply par for the course. The media manipulates facts all the time – whether it be through social media chatter or rag-mags putting their own spin on ordinary commentary – but this type of manipulation is not what puts the fandom in danger of itself. In fact, most of the gossip and innuendo that took root during the World Tour would have dissipated almost immediately after it ended – if it hadn’t been for Papsmear.

Yeah. That was disastrous.

Come to think of it, it was awfully convenient, too, don’t you think?

Absolutely. And you know what else was convenient? That little wannabe Wizard was –

Oh, yeah, I heard that, too! That clown has been trying to hand out green-colored glasses ever since!

Yep. Tried to give me a pair and I told it to go fuck itself and its little glass cat, too. I mean, they weren’t even name brand glasses. Fake ass, bitch.

All jesting aside, if you haven’t noticed already, I do, on occasion, use my writing to call out the fandom, usually as a whole. I mean, we are in this together, right? Actually, no; we ceased being Collectively Delulu after a few unsavory characters were bitten by the Hunter’s Moon and followed Nicola through the streets of New York and London. There was a major – and rather unexpected – shift in the fandom when the rabid Jakolas appeared from the dark corners of our enchanted forest. And I’m sure you’ve realized at this point in my story that I have one particular – oh, shit, I just realized I don’t even know to which fandom our wannabe Wizard belongs. Ruh-roh. Regardless, that motherfucker is in my peep sight because it is a perfect example of how fandom manipulation has reached a new level of toxicity.

Typically, I don’t care what part of the fandom you’re on. My general attitude is, to each their own. If you’re a Jakola and you find yourself spending an average of 15 minutes each week reading my Lukola blog, I applaud you for peeking outside of the den hole. Best not let Alpha find out, though. It’s all in good fun, right? I often find myself getting a good laugh from Jakola stories, especially when they theorize on the Woman Behind the Curtain. Question, though – did you find her? In all seriousness, if I didn’t consider Jakola and Lutonia perspectives, I would be borderline Conscientiously Stupid, now, wouldn’t I? After all, the desire for knowledge is what ultimately gave our Scarecrow his brain.

However, what I don’t find “in good fun” is when social media creators prey on more than one side of the fandom under phony pretense, namely, that they “just want Nicola to be happy.” Oh, these Cowardly Lions may argue that they’re simply being “neutral” – and, yes, I’m sure some instances of this do exist – however, neutrality does not embrace openly ridiculing one fandom over another, especially on a platform that is touted by its owners as being a “safe space” for everyone. The problem with these so-called “neutral creators” is that they���re only here for social media engagement – the clicks and the giggles – and they defect to the other side when the going gets tough. If you, too, take issue with this kind of creator, be soothed in knowing that when you play two sides, you find yourself with two-times the number of enemies.

What makes these so-called “neutral creators” – actually, let’s just call them the “Defectors” – so poisonous to the fandom is that they are made from the grease drippings found at the bottom of the barrel of the Conscientiously Stupid. The Conscientiously Stupid are one thing – they are the ones using their platforms to spread misinformation because they choose to ignore exculpatory evidence (i.e., they’re headstrong in their beliefs) – but the Defectors are typically the ones creating the misinformation and feeding it to the Conscientiously Stupid and then hanging them out to dry when the information proves to be false. The Conscientiously Stupid who refuse to “lose the battle” then resort to bullying (more so than usual) the Sincerely Ignorant of an opposing fandom. And in defense of their Sincerely Ignorant comrades (or simply because they’re sick and tired of the Conscientiously Stupid preventing anyone from having nice things), the Fact Finders – unceremoniously, I might add – have taken their own place on the battlefield (oh, yes, they are absolutely your tactical commanders). Now, the entire fandom is at war with each other – all because some wannabe Wizard – a Defector – convinced people to look through a pair of shiny, green-colored glasses. More than once.

Is it appropriate – or perhaps a bit catty – to put “ceasefire” here?

Ah, yes, well, uh, we have found ourselves a bit far from Oz at this point, haven’t we?

I suppose – but we are trying to help Dorothy find her way back home, and at least we now have an idea as to how she got lost.

Maybe one day we will get her back to Kansas.

Yeah, maybe.

Oh, silly me! I forgot to sneak in a sly reference to Dorothy’s third companion – the Tin Man! He’s perfect for the end of our story. You know, in the book, the Wizard was just an ordinary man who stumbled into his Ozian existence on a magnificent hot air balloon and took advantage of the power that Emerald citizens bestowed upon him. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Wizard preyed on the naïve using deception and the power of suggestion and invoked fear in anyone who dared to question his authority –

Uh, where are you going with this?

Give me a minute!

Like I said – shit, where was I? – Oh, yes, the Wizard was just an ordinary man, and ordinary people are flawed. We all make mistakes. This is where our Tin Man comes in as he represents love and empathy. Yes, empathy; the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, to understand and forgive, to take into consideration someone’s redeeming qualities –

You know that Wizard defected in his hot air balloon before taking Dorothy home, right?

Wait, what?

Okay, okay. It was Toto’s fault but the Wizard sure as shit didn’t come back for her!

Hmm, you’d almost think Toto knew the Wizard’s true colors all along…

“Au revoir, Wiz.”

[tinkerbellknockoff]

beautiful blue hair // jinx x fem! reader

jinx eased quickly into her new life at demacia, deciding to do something for the first time in her life- see a hair stylist.

-- a/n: had this idea after staring at s2ep9 jinx and realizing that haircut would probably grow out terribly. this was written at 3am, enjoy!

jinx found being at demacia good enough. it was a very different culture than the life in zaun that she was used to, but arguably, she thought that was great for her. she was free to be herself, with no repercussion because here- she had no weight of the past weighing her down.

the only thing? she mildly regretted the haircut of choice that ekko had given her. during her crisis back in zaun, ekko had came to her side- he helped her. and, even with jinx's hyperindependency, she knew she had bits to thank him for.

looking in the mirror, seeing the comically long bang hanging in front of her face compared to her bob length hair, she figured this was the one thing she wasn't going to thank him for.

it looked great when it was first cut, though, which was a bonus.

but jinx's hair grew freakishly fast. weekly in her workshop she'd give herself little trims to tame her hair. unfortunately for her, she grabbed a whole lot of things while packing her bag- one thing she didn't?

scissors.

jinx let out an annoyed huff, "oh, c'mon! seriously? out of all things?"

she spoke to herself, the walls echoing back nothing but the sound of her own voice. jinx's hands continued to brush through her hair, looking at the chopped layers in mild distaste. she had never been one to ever care about her appearance but for some reason, this peeved her. real bad.

during her examining, her eyes caught a glimpse of something. during her time walking and exploring demacia, she was given scattered flyers, business owners wanting to promote their stores. she chose not to throw them away, believing that since she was making a new life for herself, she might try to get out more. normally. without explosives, even though she'll find it significantly less entertaining.

"daffodil's," jinx muttered, the name slipping off her tongue as she picked up the flyer from the pile. she hummed in interest, eyeing the design, promoting a small salon that had recently opened.

jinx scanned it over one last time before sighing to herself, "... why not?"

☆☆

jinx slowly pulled open the door of the tiny salon. it was in the downtown area, tucked into a less busy area. she liked that a lot.

she was greeted with a soft smell of sandalwood, the sound of the heater in the building slightly humming, giving a background to the idle chattering of the few people that were inside.

a girl, possibly around jinx's age, sat at the front desk. the desk was a little bit to the side of the entrance, the person sitting there catching a glimpse of whoever entered first. but, the girl was too preoccupied.

the girl sat comfortably on a chair, slightly reclined back as she calmly chewed gum, occasionally popping a small bubble. her feet were elevated, resting on the desk, a magazine in her hands as she loosely flipped through the page.

jinx's eyes scanned her over, biting her lip almost nervously. why hadn't she just decided to go out and buy a damn pair of scissors? would've been much less work. she walked up to the front desk, her boots clanking against the floor in a rhythmic, melodic kind of way. this caught the girl's attention, causing her to look up from the magazine, her chewing stopping for a second.

as jinx finally got up to the counter, the girl adjusted, sitting upright and giving the blue-haired girl a grin. she tilted her head, her (h/c) hair tumbling to the side as she looks at jinx.

"hi there! how can i help ya? do you have an appointment?"

the girl's relaxed, bubbly demeanor was almost nauseating to jinx. she never once dealt with someone so... she doesn't even know. she took a deep breath in, calming her nerves she didn't realize existed, giving the girl a grin in return.

"hi! i was wondering if you could do... erm..." jinx's voice trailed off for a moment. she doesn't know terminology. an appointment? is that the word? no, those are in advance-

her thoughts stopped yelling at her as the girl gave jinx a soft smile. "we do walk-ins. you looking for a new do?"

the girl giggled at her own terminology, moving the chair back to stand up. jinx nodded, "yup, one of those."

"great. i'm free to take you back," the girl beckoned jinx with her hand, leading her to the furthest chair in the corner, patting the seat as she grabs an apron from the side. "what can i do for ya?"

jinx slipped into the chair. it was so comfortable to her, it almost felt foreign. it was wood but it was lightly cushioned, and had a slight modern feel. jinx's reflection greeted her, one that she only recently got used to with having a new unbroken mirror.

jinx cleared her throat, "just.. wanting it fixed. or whatever."

the girl lightly ran a finger through jinx's hair, bringing it up to assess the layers in her hair. jinx slightly tensed at the new touch, but didn't let it alarm her too much.

"at home hairdo, huh?" the girl spoke humorously, meeting jinx's gaze in the mirror. jinx huffed, refraining from giving the girl a glare. she didn't want to be made fun of for her decisions, and before she could make a retort, the girl started speaking again, "i get it. once i accidentally cut my hair up to my ears- wait i shouldn't be telling you that."

the girl cut herself off, and that got a laugh from jinx, giving you a lopsided grin in the mirror, "don't tell me that when you're gonna be chopping at my hair, toots."

the girl gave a sheepish shrug, before asking, "anything in particular in mind?"

jinx pursed her lips for a moment. did she? no. "just... whatever you want, yeah?"

the girl rose her eyebrows, "trusting a complete stranger with ya looks? bold. i dig it."

jinx found the girl funny. jinx watched the girl begin to even out the layers in her hair, chopping her hair to a length just right underneath her chin. jinx liked it so far.

eventually, the girl came around to the front, bending slightly to meet jinx's height as she grabbed at the long strand of hair, evening it out as she chopped a pair of bangs on jinx. the position got jinx to awkwardly clear her throat, looking away.

even with the avoidance, the girl started speaking up, "ya know, people say that hair holds memories."

jinx didn't know that.

"so what was so special about this one piece of hair?" the girl grinned in a playful manner, and jinxed watched the long strands fall onto her lap. she looked in the mirror and there were a pair of bangs just falling right above her eyebrows, nicely blending in with the rest of her hair.

"aren't you nosey?" jinx quips back, though without malice. jinx thought this girl was nice, even without knowing her for that long at all. and, seeing her new hair, she couldn't but have some approval.

"just makin' conversation, yeah?" the girl giggled. "let's get you washed?"

jinx hadn't realize how long it'd been since she washed her hair.

feeling the girl's hands and manicured nails shampoo at her scalp was almost a moan worthy, toe curling experience as the girl didn't speak, but only chewed on the piece of gum that had been in her mouth. she could tell jinx was enjoying it, but she didn't judge. I mean... who doesn't like getting their hair shampooed?

time passed quickly as eventually jinx ended up back in the salon chair, the girl eventually wrapping up blowing out jinx's hair, leaving her hair straight and soft, the heat nice against jinx's neck.

jinx couldn't believe who she saw in the mirror. this is what she needed. what she wanted. when she saw herself in the mirror, she didn't think "jinx" or "powder". she just felt.. like herself.

the girl eyed her expression in the mirror, giving a soft grin, "ya like it?"

jinx stopped admiring herself for one moment as she met your gaze in the mirror, nodding vigorously, giving you a grin, "love it, toots."

she paused for a moment, "what's your name?"

the girl tilted her head, telling jinx her name, "recommend me to your friends, yeah?"

jinx repeated your name, letting your name roll off her tongue. she wasn't going to let you know that she has no friends, but she gave you a grin, "definitely."

jinx became a regular after that.

[lowkeycasanova]

but she told me i can nail her sh*t

zoro x afab!reader

warning: smut

He licked his lips, panting and letting his head fall back. Eyes fluttering and jaw tight as you bounced your ass on him, his cock rock-hard inside of you.

"Damn" you heard his whisper. As you continued to ride him, he let out a grunt from deep within his throat. You smiled, as you loved when he was even the slightest bit vocal, giving you reassurance and confidence.

His large hands found their way to your thighs, then hips, then slightly cupped your ass, around your back, and up your waist and ribcage. Zoro was obsessed with how your body felt and wanted to explore...caress every inch.

For a while, he complied, letting you do all the work at your own pace. The tension in his muscles betrayed him from how much he wanted to move. And maybe it was the way you tugged his hair or the deliberate roll of your hips against his, but his patience snapped. With a low growl, his hands gripped your waist firmly. Before you could react, he shifted beneath you, lifting you up and bending his knees so that he could buck his hips properly.

You gasped, your body tense for a moment as you were surprised with the sudden change.

"My turn." he said, his voice low and rough with a smirk tugging at his lips. There was a fire in his gaze and you felt something pulsate between your thighs. Your control had been thrilling but now it was time for him to take over.

He begins to fuck you. Hard. His momentum starting of fast and then stabilizing. The sound of skin slapping and your little yelps was almost enough to get him off right then and there. Your breast bounce in his face like they're begging for attention. After a few moments, he sets you back down so you two can gain control of your breathing. You let out a small laugh through your thin breaths, fluttering around him, and just as it begins to even out, his hips are bucking you upwards again. His stamina is something to be reckoned with.

His hands move all the way up to your jaw this time, cupping your cheeks as he rails you. It feels so good. He feels so good but you're like putty in his hands. Your hips seemed to have locked up due to the pressure so you can't do anything but take it.

His hips jerk into you over and over and with every pump, you hiccup a half moan. Your hands move to hold his wrists as his hands still cup your face. He feels a flash of arousal knowing that you're just barely hanging on for the ride.

He's looking at you just before he comes, your jaw clenched but muttering a 'please' and 'zoro' here and there.

He's panting hard and drops his head back as he releases. It feels like euphoria. His heart beat hammers until it begins to slow. There's a ruggedness in your eyes and hair that makes him proud. Your thighs are too weak to even dismount from him. His hands go from your cheeks to your arms as he leans forward to kiss you.

****

Sanji’s voice broke through the quiet air on the deck. Zoro peeked through his eyes. His arms were crossed behind his head and his back against the mast as he watched Sanji approach you with a tray in hand, holding drinks. His grin stretched from ear to ear, and his eyes sparkled as he basked in your presence.

The exchange played out like a scene Zoro had seen many times before. Even after handing you the drink, Sanji lingered. All that flair. Such a try hard and you don’t even give him a second glance. Not that you were unkind- far from it. You always smiled, said thank you. It was always genuine.

Zoro didn’t hear all of what was said but he did catch the romantic undertone in the way Sanji said “I hope it pleases you” when referring to the beverage. Zoro tried to stifle a laugh but was unsuccessful as your eyes darted to him from behind Sanji. A faint twitch of amusement in your expression even when he tried to play it off.

Zoro was always giving Sanji a number.

“Number seven.”

���Fourth placer.”

Provoking the blonde cook filled him with subtle yet undeniable satisfaction. And last night, among the many shared nights, further convinced him that there, in fact, was a hierarchy between the two men.

If Sanji had even the slightest idea of what was going on between you and Zoro, he’d have an outburst, quite literally bursting into flames, and throwing some indignant response in Zoro’s direction.

You reminded Zoro of where he stood. It didn’t matter what Sanji did. You already made your choice.

[x-necromantic-x]

(reblogging w/ my comments under op’s post to have it on one of my blogs)

hi!! this was my post that you're talking about! and wow haha i did not think it would strike this much of a nerve with some people, but it's always a good thing to see other people passionate about things i'm passionate about also.

a few things–

the post overall was meant to be lighthearted in nature, as someone who enjoys both the musical and the poem it wasn't really an us vs them thing. moreso a playful jab at people who made assumptions about the myth based off the musical (which, in my comments there were a lot of) and if you don't do that, the post doesn't apply to you!

in the pinned comment under the post i talk about how a conversation can definitely happen over the ethics of the situation, i'm all for interpretations of the story and enjoyed the people discussing the myth from the perspective of actually having read the myth or of being aware of it. whenever i corrected people in the comments, it was about things they got wrong about the material specifically, such as people saying circe used her magic to force him to bed or arguing about things a simple google search could tell you whether it did or didn't happen. If you interpret the text as being non-consensual, it was never the point of the post to say that your interpretation is incorrect! me personally though, i don't like the optics of circe being turned into a supporting/positive character if she was a rapist in the original.

I wasn't defending hamilton lmao!!! it was a joke!!! it was a bit!!!!

i also never said homer!odysseus was a horrible person! i very much don't think he is! to me, the point of the story is it's exploration of the human condition, and that even if he had faltered in his resolve to get home, that he still wouldn't have been a horrible person because any normal person in his shoes would have done similarly! i dunno where you got this bit but yk, js for the record.

your interpretation of book 10 in the odyssey is fine, if not a little lost on me. odysseus was certainly not initiative in the task of going home. of course, you can read and take away from it whatever you like, but– and i'm not trying to sound pretentious here– in my analysis class for the odyssey specifically we talked about how this section of the odyssey goes into the nature of human temptation when faced with luxury or an easier way out. Odysseus intentionally spends longer than he has to, a full year, and doesn't make the decision to leave until his crew bugs him and calls his delays “madness”. That doesn't read to me as them being like let's leave and he's like alr bet, it reads as odysseus finding reasons to remain on the island even after his crew is ready to go. you can find all of this in the text.

i never mentioned being fixated on the telegony either, all of my rebuttals have been centered around text and examples found in the odyssey itself. it wasn't really a gotcha moment with circe either, there's no debate that odysseus’ is one of history's great morally ambiguous figures in fiction, with or without her.

lastly, i think the odyssey is sooo romantic! a lot of your post seems to have misunderstood the point of mine fundamentally, and that's ok, i probably could have phrased it better! i think epic is romantic, i think the odyssey is romantic, the point i was trying to get at when seriously debating the storytelling of epic is that i think a lot of people miss the nuance that went into the storytelling of the odyssey in favor of a more sanitized, more easy to swallow protagonist. again, how i studied it, and how i believe the odyssey was meant to be read, is as a critical analysis of the human condition. Myths are reflective of the societies they come from, and i want people to be aware that the myths we read are a glimpse into what sorts of things people back then valued and strove for, how they're different from us, and how they're not. you mentioned having wished you’d studied the literature, and i think if you had, you would have come to a similar conclusion.

while i don’t think op misinterpreted my points intentionally in bad faith, calling me an asshole or saying i’m illiterate definitely made me raise an eyebrow. i tried my best to keep the conversations in my own comments respectful and productive, and hostility was definitely not the tone of my original shitpost. i think most people were able to talk about their perspectives and interpretations of the odyssey without going there. i’m attaching my pinned comments below for more context about the post itself

Some assholes on Instagram saying that Epic fans are "gaslighting" themselves about Odysseus being faithful to Penelope because of the Circe part and being pretentious about it and how we are stupid for considering The Odyssey romantic

Motherfucker

1. The Odyssey is an epic poem we all fucking know that? That it's a tragedy, technically comedy (comedy in ancient literature used to mean "happy ending", not funny stuff)

2. The Circe bit can be interpreted in different ways, as if it was fully consensual or not or just a transaction. There was still a difference in power dynamics, which was 100% mentioned by Calypso in the beginning, but if you choose to ignore that part if the same as saying some of Zeus' kids were ok to be conceived because the women agreeded to what A GOD wanted.

3. Obviously Epic!Odysseus is differente from Homer!Odysseus, but trying to say Homer! Odysseus is a horrible person that fully wanted to cheat on Penelope just because you want to defend ALEXANDER HAMILTON, i have bad news about you.

4. "The crew had to beg to go back!" I read the Odyssey too. As a child and a few days ago. They stayed on Circe's island to rest so Odysseus job as a captain was literally wait until his crew told him they were ready to leave, specially after what they have lived. Odysseus didnt force anyone to stay in that island, when the crew went "oh, sir, we miss our families, please lets go back now, yes?" Odysseus immediately said "ok". It literally felt like a father waiting for the kids to stop playing in the playground.

5. Homer!Odysseus is not perfect, at all (man killed his disloyal maids because he didnt want to deal with shit anymore, even if they also were coerced/raped by the suitors), but come with a better gotcha than Circe. You are just fixiated on the Telegony and it shows.

6. Idk what to tell you, but if you think renouncing a life with two inmortal godesses (one of whom offered you immortality), traveling for 10 years defying a God's rage, killing 108 men who wanted to marry your wife (and ruined your house), almost killed yourself when said wife rejected you only for her to go "haha i was just testing you, silly :)", have your literally marriage have a word created for you two specifically is not romantic... Idk go read Bridgerton

[woozinhos]

Hiii i loved the story you wrote with vernon (both idols), so I wanted to ask if you kinda could write a similar story but with hoshi? But maybe this time hoshi and the reader get caught in the backgro making out or smt? I yk how svt films “inside seventeen” dance practice, so maybe in the background there? Im sorry im bad at this it’s my first time requesting something. Ofc you can write however you want. 🫶🫶

I decided to make this a going seventeen episode and a little funny hehe enjoyyy :D

It's the middle of a filming session for "Going Seventeen," and you're backstage with Hoshi. You're both supposed to be watching the other members perform their scenes, but you can't help but get a little distracted. Hoshi pulls you into a secluded corner, away from prying eyes and cameras. He pushes you against the wall, his body pressed against yours as he captures your lips in a heated kiss. You moan into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you return the kiss with equal fervor.

You can hear the other members laughing and chatting in the distance, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of Hoshi's body against yours, the way his tongue is exploring your mouth, and the way his hands are roaming over your body. Hoshi's hands slide down to your hips, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss. He breaks away from your lips, trailing a line of kisses down your jawline and onto your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin, leaving a mark that you'll have to hide later.

"I'm so glad you came on set today," Hoshi murmurs against your skin, his breath hot against your neck. "I've been wanting to get my hands on you all day."

He sucks on your neck, his teeth scraping against the skin as he leaves another mark.

"You're driving me crazy," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "I can't wait to take you home and have you all to myself."

As Hoshi continues to mark your neck, the sounds of DK and Mingyu's laughter and chatter grows louder. But you're too caught up in the moment to notice, your body too focused on the way Hoshi is making you feel. It's not until DK clears his throat loudly that you both finally break apart, your eyes widening in shock as you realize you've been caught.

Hoshi's eyes dart towards the camera, and he freezes, a look of panic on his face. DK and Mingyu are both standing there, watching you and Hoshi with grins on their faces. The camera man behind them is looking at the two of you with a smirk, clearly having captured everything on film. Hoshi quickly steps away from you, trying to regain his composure.

"This isn't what it looks like," he says, his voice a bit too high-pitched to be believable.

DK and Mingyu just laugh, clearly enjoying the fact that they've caught you two in the act.

"Really?" Mingyu says, raising an eyebrow. "Because it looks like you were making out with your girlfriend in the middle of a filming session."

Hoshi runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered and embarrassed.

"We were just...taking a break," he tries to explain, but even he knows it sounds weak.

DK grins and slaps Hoshi on the back.

"Sure, you were," he says, winking at you. "And I'm sure that 'break' involved a lot more than just kissing."

The camera man coughs speaking up. “We won’t be uploading this we’ll have to cut this from the episode,”

The camera man's words are a bit of a relief, but they also bring a new wave of panic. If the footage can't be used in the episode, that means the company will have to delete it. Which means it will never see the light of day...but also means you and Hoshi won't be able to get away with your secret relationship anymore.

[antinousletmehit]

Hello pookie

I hope your having a good day, anyways, I saw you were asking for requests so I figured I'd give you one even though I'm sure your already getting many, also no pressure to actually do this or anything I don't want you to feel like anyone will be disappointed if you don't do this, but if you were looking for some inspiration or an idea...

(I know it seems out of the question to suggest a Telemachus x reader when you are already doing a story on that (which is very good btw))

Oh well, if you are looking for ideas - Telemachus x fem reader who is a servant at the palace. Well, there's my two sense.

Have a great day <3

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇note: I love Telemachus chat

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The palace was quiet, its grand halls wrapped in the heavy silence of midnight. Telemachus tiptoed past the sleeping guards, his sandals barely making a sound on the cool stone floors. His heart raced, not from fear of being caught, but from excitement. He knew you were waiting for him. Out in the garden, hidden among the olive trees, you leaned against a gnarled trunk, the moonlight casting a silver glow over your features. When you saw him, your face lit up with a smile that made his stomach flip.

“You’re late,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Blame Athena,” Telemachus whispered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “She wouldn’t stop lecturing me about responsibility.”You laughed softly, the sound like the gentle rustling of leaves. “And here you are, sneaking out with me. Very responsible, my lord.” Telemachus rolled his eyes, though his smile widened. “If you keep calling me ‘my lord,’ I might have to stop meeting you.”

“Oh, is that so?” you said, stepping closer. “What should I call you, then?”

“Just Telemachus,” he said, his voice softening. “When we’re out here, I’m not a prince. I’m just… me.” You nodded, your smile turning gentle. “Alright, Telemachus. Shall we go?” The two of you slipped through the garden and out into the open fields beyond the palace walls. It wasn’t the first time you’d done this, your secret nighttime escapades had become a routine over the past few months. You’d explore the countryside, climb hills, and sit by the shore, talking about everything and nothing.

Tonight, you ended up on a hill overlooking the sea. The stars sparkled above, their reflection dancing on the dark waves below. You sat down on the grass, and Telemachus joined you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice hesitant, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this…free before.”

You glanced at him, your brow quirking. “Free?”He nodded, picking at a blade of grass. “When I’m in the palace, I’m always being watched, judged. Everyone expects me to be like my father, to grow into this great hero. But out here, with you… I can just be myself.” Your expression softened, and you reached out to touch his arm. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself, Telemachus. You’re already enough.” His breath hitched, and he turned to look at you. The way you gazed at him, your eyes full of sincerity, made his chest feel tight. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat.

Instead, you smiled and leaned closer. “Can I show you something?”

Telemachus blinked, confused. “Show me what?” Without answering, you tilted your head and pressed your lips to his. For a moment, his entire body froze. His mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that he couldn’t quite process. This was his first kiss, his first real kiss. And it was with you. When you pulled back, he was still staring at you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. “I—I—uh—” You bit back a laugh, watching him flounder. “Telemachus? Are you alright?”

“I—yes—no—I mean—” He ran a hand through his hair, his voice cracking slightly. “Did you just—did we just—”

“Yes,” you said simply, your smile teasing but kind.

“Oh,” was all he could manage, his brain still trying to catch up. You reached out and gently touched his cheek, bringing his attention back to you. “Was that okay?”

He finally found his voice, though it was quiet and a little shaky. “It was more than okay.” Your smile widened, and you leaned back, propping yourself up on your hands. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” Telemachus stared at you, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain you could hear it. “You… you have?”

You nodded, glancing up at the stars. “You’re kind, and thoughtful, and you have this way of making people feel safe. How could I not?” He didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he sat there, watching you with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Eventually, you turned back to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Telemachus?”

“Yeah?” he said, his voice faint.

“You can breathe now.”

He let out a shaky laugh, finally exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Right. Breathing. Good idea.” You laughed with him, and the sound filled the night air, light and full of joy. As the two of you sat under the stars, Telemachus couldn’t help but think that, for the first time in his life, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[inexplicifics]

Is the Ask Game still on?

If so, I would be so delighted to hear about one of these (dealer's choice):

- L/A/M - the one with the dream soulmates

- L/M - the one with dom!Lambert because I'm really really normal about this idea.

- G/J - the Little Red Riding Hood one

Or

- L/A/M - mer!Lambert edition

Of course the whole list here made me giggle, so it's hard to choose from. And look in the end I didn't even choose one 🤭

Such delightful enthusiasm! Have a bit of dom!Lambert:

Lamb finds a table near the stage, as promised - a booth, in fact, with high walls and a padded seat. He settles into the back of it and pats his lap, giving her a surprisingly encouraging smile. Milena settles across his thighs warily, sitting sideways - she hopes he didn’t mean her to straddle him, given that she’s wearing a skirt and it would be both awkward and extremely suggestive. His hand settles on her waist, steadying her and tugging her a little closer, and he makes an approving sound deep in his chest. “Comfy, darlin’?” he murmurs. Milena shifts slightly, figuring out that she feels least precarious if she leans against his chest. He’s broad and warm and steady, and his hand doesn’t stray from her waist. It’s - “Yes, sir,” she says softly. “Very comfortable.”

And a bit of little red riding hood:

“They’re all so boring,” Jaskier complains. “They don’t want to know anything but what our ancestors knew - hells, they barely want to know that! They don’t want to know what’s going on out in the world! Hells, they don’t even want to explore the forest, it’s all ‘But what if the Wolf should get us’ - ridiculous!” “Do you not fear the Wolf?” the golden-eyed man rumbles. “No! I don’t think the Wolf even exists! I’ve been wandering around this forest for how many years, and I’ve certainly never seen a giant white wolf, have you?” The golden-eyed man makes a low, amused sound. “No.”

[qin-qin16]

Murder Time Trio as a poly... or something else

NOTE: This was supposed to be a relationship chart, but I couldn't find any that I liked, and I got frustrated trying to make one, SO I decided to do it in the form of text and headcanons and is slighty ooc because i can’t write them realistic, its against my policy

Before I elaborate on my thoughts about Murder Time Trio poly, I will present to you a summary of the BACKGROUND that I will use for my upcoming discussions about this trio.

In this post I share a bit about that thought and there is this au created by @what-have-i-unleashed named Mermaid Bunny AU, you can find it on their pinned post (is focused on kist in some parts, read the warnings before reading!)

However, since that post I made was more focused on Killer, I will also comment on the other parts of this relationship below!!

NOTE²: To avoid confusion, the first Killer will be called Kei (as a way to start fresh, he chose to abandon the name given to him after his code was altered), while the second Killer will simply be called Killer, as he has neither the desire nor the order to change the title given to him – a title his best friend, his partner, gave him. That being said, let’s move on to their background

HORROR'S ARRIVAL

Horror was the second to arrive, dragged by the slimy tentacles against his will – Kei vaguely remembers hearing his screams calling for someone, spitting threats at Nightmare as if he had no fear for his own life. He didn’t even notice his soul subtly writhing when Nightmare did nothing but toss the skeleton at his feet. "Show him his new home." Those were the orders he heard, and not even a minute later, they were already walking through the abandoned place (whatever it was, the hallways were too long to be considered part of a house, and the rooms were dark enough to make Horror question the things he saw inside them).

It wasn't for lack of trying that their almost-friendship was created – as fragile as a thin twig. Kei had been ordered to teach Horror everything he knew: what Nightmare liked to hear when they returned from missions, how to act when spotted by any resident of the universe they were exploring, what not to do when the hallways of their home (Kei called that dreadful place home, even though it was worse than the hell Horror said Snowdin was) seemed to grow darker and darker, how to ignore the torn and moldy paintings when they appeared to move in the shadows… Everything Kei had learned, he passed on to Horror, but like a mule being whipped to carry its load, Horror would always stall at the most important moments.

Like the time he screamed to go back home, for Nightmare to throw him back into the deep hole that was his past problems. Kei never heard Horror mention his old home again after that night – at least, not while Horror was conscious; only on nights when he finally fell asleep, so light that even the faintest sound would bring that red orb back to life. Of course, Kei knew this – who else but him would keep an eye on his copy to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid? He had to check and act as the loyal right-hand man he was. It wasn’t as if Horror was the only somewhat safe company for him there, no – he couldn’t allow himself to get attached to someone that he would abandon at the first chance he gets.

But Kei could be a little selfish, couldn’t he? Horror was selfish too when he claimed the least uncomfortable bed would be his when they were traveling, or when he shrugged whenever Kei questioned the disappearance of some witnesses who had seen them lurking too close to AUs near the Omega Timeline. Or when Horror got too close to his body on freezing nights, trembling after hours of walking through the thick snow surrounding their home. “This thing is warm.” He pointed at the circle in front of Kei's chest, seeming to hesitate – or not wanting – to call it a soul.

Kei could be selfish if Horror was the one to blame for making it impossible for him to sleep in separate rooms after that.

MURDER'S ARRIVAL

Horror never thought that a third member would be added to the chaotic and dysfunctional duo that was him and Kei. From what he could hear through the poorly closed and fallen door of the room where Kei and Nightmare often argued about their performance, the boss (even though Horror would never call him that) never mentioned anything about adding another screw-up monster like them to the group.

But it wasn't as if Nightmare cared about their opinion on anything, or even cared about their existence - as long as they stayed alive, that was enough.

Murder's entrance was so different from his, so much more... silent. No sudden movements, no explosion of LV, nothing but incomprehensible murmurs beneath that dark hood. If Horror thought Kei was unpredictable and full of weird traits, Murder had just stolen his place. It wasn't as if Horror was a healthy or sane person either, but Murder was an extreme even for him: clothes covered in monster dust, eyes — when lit — always twitching, looking side to side as if others were in the room besides the three of them.

And it was agonizing to see someone so similar to his former self — when there was no danger around them, or when Murder seemed to finally relax those pale bones, those two little lights would glow in white, in a nostalgic way. Horror didn’t like that feeling. Kei was another one who seemed out of place with Murder’s addition to their little group.

“You’re real…” he murmured between laughs — an almost undistorted reflection of himself.

It was hard to adapt Murder into their already chaotic and unpredictable routine, almost like caging an euphoric animal alongside two others already in captivity — the rare calm of before was quickly torn apart by Murder's trembling and impatient presence. As sadistic as the last one, Kei once commented, referring to Horror, who just scoffed and mumbled something like "don’t compare me to that..." It wasn’t a good start between them, definitely.

And no matter how much Horror tried to deny it and even fight with himself, he wasn’t so different from the other two. Nightmare’s motivation in handpicking each of them was clear — it almost had a bitter kind of charm to it, if it weren’t so inconvenient. At least he and Murder seemed to want to be as far away as possible from there, but Kei? Why was he so loyal to that demon?

Horror never knew Kei’s deep desire to escape that hell, to crush Nightmare’s rotten soul underfoot like an insignificant insect. At least, Kei never confessed it to them specifically. No, no.

"As if I care who you talk to outside of work..." Horror once huffed, sounding strangely genuine. "If you want to chat with that rainbow skeleton, that's your problem, don't drag us into your issues, capiche?" And so Kei did.

Part two is on their way~

[zylokv]

VOW UNDONE. — myoui mina

❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞

synopsis — the betrayal hits harder when it comes from someone you thought had your back.

word count ! — 10.4k

— myoui mina x reader !

notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and a bit of queen of tears.

disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.

series masterlist !

part five !

your fingers hover over the screen as the video ends, but you don’t move. the room feels colder, quieter, suffocating in its stillness. you blink, but the tears that well up refuse to fall, blurring the edges of everything.

your chest feels tight, the kind of ache that spreads, starting small and then consuming you, piece by piece. your hands tremble, gripping the usb drive like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

because you know. deep down, you know.

you try to take a breath, but it hitches, a sharp, jagged thing that only makes your head spin more.

“fuck,” you whisper, the word cracking as it leaves your lips.

the realization feels too big, too heavy to hold on your own. you stand abruptly, pushing back your chair so hard it scrapes against the floor, the sound grating.

you need answers. you need someone to tell you why.

grabbing your coat and keys, you shove the usb drive into your pocket and head for the door, not even bothering to lock it behind you. the drive to sehun’s office is a blur. the tears don’t fall, but your chest burns with the effort of holding them back.

it’s only when you burst through his office door that the dam finally starts to crack.

“you,” you choke out, voice already raw.

sehun looks up, startled, his usual smirk wiped clean off his face when he sees yours.

“hey, what’s going—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. you take a step closer, your hand gripping the back of a chair like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

he stands, his brows knitting in concern—or maybe it’s guilt. “okay, let’s take a breath—”

“don’t you fucking tell me to breathe,” you snap, your voice breaking.

the anger rises first, sharp and hot, and before you know it, your fist slams against his desk. the pain shoots up your arm, grounding you for just a second before you’re looking at him again, eyes wild and brimming with unshed tears.

“you knew, didn’t you?” your voice shakes, but the words spill out anyway. “you knew what was on that drive, and you still gave it to me.”

sehun’s face hardens, but there’s something softer in his eyes—pity, maybe. you hate it.

“listen—”

“no, you listen!” you’re shouting now, the tears finally spilling over, hot and relentless. “do you have any idea what it’s like? to see that? to feel like your entire life is a fucking lie?”

your voice cracks on the last word, and you falter, your shoulders trembling as the weight of it all comes crashing down.

you sink into the chair, burying your face in your hands. the sobs come, harsh and unrelenting, ripping through you like a storm.

“why?” you whisper, your voice muffled but desperate. “why the fuck didn’t you tell me? why would you let me find out like this?”

sehun steps closer, his expression conflicted. he hesitates, and you feel the weight of his gaze, but you can’t look at him.

“i thought…” he starts, then stops, running a hand through his hair. “i thought you deserved the truth. even if i'm your enemy and even if it hurts.”

you laugh bitterly, wiping at your face. “well, congratulations. it fucking hurts. you've defeated me.”

he sighs, leaning against the desk, watching you like he doesn’t know what to say.

you don’t wait for him to figure it out. you stand, your legs shaky but determined, and head for the door.

“wait—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice hollow now. “just don’t.”

and with that, you’re gone, leaving him and his half-formed apologies behind.

-----

the house is unnervingly quiet when sana steps inside, calling out, “hey? you here?” her voice echoes faintly in the stillness. it wasn’t like them to leave without saying anything.

she looks around, her gaze darting to the empty couch and the untouched pile of toys in the corner. she frowns. it was rare for the place to feel this lifeless, and a strange unease creeps in.

“they better not have forgotten we had plans,” she mutters under her breath, slipping off her shoes.

she’d come over to hang out, and return something she borrowed, something you had been frantically searching for last week. she’d laughed about their scatterbrained tendencies at the time, but now, standing in the oddly quiet house, the humor felt distant.

her gaze catches on the faint glow coming from the slightly ajar office door. they never leave their office like that.

curiosity gets the better of her. “are you in there?” she calls, stepping closer.

the desk is a mess—papers scattered, a mug half-empty, and the laptop on but unattended. her eyes land on the screen. a downloaded video file is open, frozen on the first frame.

she reaches out, brushing the mouse to wake the screen fully. the video stutters to life, and her breath catches as the image sharpens.

mina.

with him.

sana freezes, her stomach plummeting as the scene unfolds before her. her heartbeat thunders in her ears, and she stumbles back a step, the chair bumping against her leg.

“no,” she whispers, her voice shaking.

her phone is in her hand before she realizes it, dialing their number with trembling fingers. it rings, and rings, and then cuts to voicemail. she curses softly, trying again.

still nothing.

panic surges. sana presses a hand to her forehead, pacing the small space. she glances at the screen again, her chest tightening painfully at the implications.

thinking quickly, she scrolls through her contacts and dials mina instead. the line barely connects before mina answers, her tone calm, composed, and unaware. “sana? what’s wrong?”

“where are you?” sana’s voice is sharp, trembling with urgency.

“what?” mina sounds taken aback. “what are you—”

“where are you.” sana cuts her off, her voice rising.

mina pauses, clearly unsettled. “at myoui residence. why? what’s goin—”

but sana doesn’t wait to hear more. all she can think is that you're probably with mina. she hangs up mid-sentence, shoving her phone into her pocket as she storms out of the house.

her hands tighten around the steering wheel as she speeds toward the myoui residence, her mind racing with every possible scenario. the image of the video lingers, vivid and damning.

“damn it, mina.” she mutters under her breath, the weight of what she’s just seen pressing down on her chest.

-----

you could feel the anger seeping into every inch of your body as you drove to the myoui residence. the tight grip on the steering wheel, the pounding in your chest, the way your pulse seemed to quicken with each passing second—it was all too much. you were trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some kind of calm, but every thought of what had been happening—the lies, the betrayal—pushed you closer to snapping.

when you finally pulled into the driveway, your fingers still gripping the wheel like you might break it, you took a deep breath. calm. you had to be calm. but you knew that as soon as you stepped out of the car, it was all over.

you walked up to the garden, taking slow, deliberate steps, trying to compose yourself, but it didn’t help. your eyes immediately landed on the scene before you—mina, sitting there, too damn composed as always, and bambam, joking with momo and laughing like nothing in the world mattered. momo was playing with hiro, and there it was. that was the moment.

your heart pounded in your ears. they were here. he was here. everything you had been holding back was threatening to break.

you took one more deep breath, tightening your jaw as you walked over to the butler. “take hiro inside. now.”

the butler didn’t ask questions. he just nodded, understanding the tension in the air. within moments, he had hiro in his arms, retreating inside the house, leaving you alone with them.

suddenly, rushed footsteps entered the garden but you paid no attention.

sana’s voice broke through the air then, frantic and high-pitched, practically running as she rushed toward you, her face a mask of panic. “yah! are you okay?” she asked, her hands reaching for you, trying to make sense of what was happening.

but you couldn’t even look at her, not with the way your rage was bubbling up inside you.

mina, watching from her spot, saw right through it. for the first time, she was confused. her calm, collected expression never wavered, but you could feel the tension crackling between you two.

“what’s going on?” mina asked, her voice deceptively soft, like she hadn’t just thrown you into this mess.

before you could answer, bambam stood up, still smiling like a damn idiot. the sight of him made your blood run cold. it was the last straw. you didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t care. you moved faster than anyone could stop you, rushing at bambam and slamming your fist into his face.

the first hit landed with a sickening crunch, his head jerking back. he barely had time to react before you hit him again, and again, your fists connecting with his face,—each blow fueled by the seething anger you could no longer control.

“you think you can just come in here like this? like you’ve done nothing wrong?” you spat, throwing another punch, this one aimed at his nose. your knuckles cracked against his bone, the sickening pop of bone ringing in your ears.

bambam swung back, his fist connecting with your lips, the pain sharp and instant. blood dripped from your busted lip, but you didn’t care. you kept going.

mina tried to step in, reaching for your arm, but you shoved her off with a violent force that sent her stumbling backward. her shock and confusion were clear, but it didn’t matter. not right now.

“stop! what are you doing!?” momo's voice cut through the chaos, frantic, as she rushed forward, hands gripping your arm in a desperate attempt to pull you away. but you shrugged her off with a force so brutal that she nearly lost her balance.

sana stood frozen, her face pale, eyes wide with fear. she tried to say something, to call out, but you were too far gone.

it wasn’t until your fists slowed, your breath heavy and ragged, that you finally pulled back. bambam was on the ground now, panting, bloodied, and dazed. you stood over him for a moment, chest heaving as you wiped your lip with the back of your hand, smearing more blood across your face.

then you turned your eyes on mina, and the anger was so intense, so palpable, that it felt like the air itself was burning.

you turn to mina then, your eyes dark and furious. your lip is split, but you don’t care. you pull out the USB from my pocket, the one that’s going to show her exactly how far this shit’s gone, and you throw it at her with everything you've got. the impact is sharp, and she flinches as it hits her chest.

“figure this shit out,” you muttered, your voice low and threatening.

momo stood there, shocked, unsure of what to do as she knelt beside bambam, checking on him, her face a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

you took one last look at mina, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to comfort you like she always did.

instead, you turned your gaze to sana, who was still standing off to the side, clearly terrified, but she was the one you let approach you. she hesitated, but only for a second, before stepping closer, reaching out with caution.

mina’s gaze flickered between you and sana, and for the first time, she seemed to understand. she didn’t move.

you stepped back from sana’s touch, but you let her get closer. because it was never going to be mina. not now.

-----

you turn around, throwing the wedding ring down the concrete floor, but before you could even get out of the garden, you heard her voice.

“wait!” mina’s voice cracked through the air, sharp with panic. “please, what happened!?”

but you didn’t stop. you didn’t even look back. you couldn’t.

you knew she was standing there, her hand reaching out, but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her have this.

and then, you heard the sound of footsteps. someone running, frantic, close behind you.

it was sana.

“hey—hey!” she called out, her voice trembling. you didn’t stop. you couldn’t. but she didn’t hesitate. she came after you, her steps faster, more urgent than mina’s ever could be.

you didn’t care. you didn’t want anyone. you didn’t want to feel this anymore.

you reached the outside, silently cursing at how giant this place was when you just wanted to get to your car, soon sana was there, standing in front of you, out of breath. “please,” she begged, voice cracking. “let me in. just—just stop.”

but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t stop. not until—

you broke.

it happened all at once. all that control, all that anger, every piece of you that had been holding it in for so long just collapsed in on itself. your chest tightened, and the tears you’d been fighting so hard to keep back came pouring out. sobs wracked your body, violent and raw, like you couldn’t breathe.

sana didn’t say anything. she just wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close as you fell apart in her embrace. it wasn’t like the hugs you’d had before, not with her, not with anyone. this was different. this was you—shattering—and sana was there, holding you together with everything she had.

"i can't do this anymore," you choked out between sobs, your hands clutching at her as if she were the only thing keeping you from falling completely apart. “she—she’s been lying to me. she’s been cheating. i—I saw it. i—saw it, sana."

her hands were trembling as she held you, and you could feel her own breath hitch in her throat, like she was trying not to cry with you. she didn’t say anything at first. she just let you break.

but you needed to get it out. needed someone to hear it.

“she hurt me, sana. she did it—and she doesn’t care. did i even fucking matter?” your voice broke, and you couldn’t keep going without falling deeper. “i’ve been so fucking stupid. i thought—i thought maybe she cared, but—fuck, i—i thought she was mine.”

the words burned your throat as you cried harder, a deep, aching sob that felt like it was ripping you open. sana didn’t let go. she held you tighter, her arms around you like a lifeline. but even that wasn’t enough. nothing was enough to fix this.

you didn’t know how long you stood there, sobbing in her arms, but when you finally pulled back, your face was soaked with tears, your lip still bleeding from the fight, your chest heavy with emotion.

sana looked at you, her face pale, eyes wide, but she wasn’t scared. she wasn’t pulling away. she didn’t look at you like mina did. sana saw you—really saw you. and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel alone.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “i’m sorry for being like this, for—for everything.”

sana’s eyes softened. her hands gently cupped your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears, the blood. she didn’t say anything for a long moment, but when she finally did, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“you don’t have to be sorry,” she said, her voice cracking, like she was holding back just as much as you were. “you don’t have to carry this alone.”

and in that moment, for just a second, you felt something. something close to hope. because sana—sana—was the only one who didn’t look at you like you were broken. like you were something to fix.

you closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely, letting yourself feel it all—the hurt, the loss, the betrayal—and in her arms, for the first time in a long time, you finally felt like it was okay to fall apart.

------

the bar was a haze of dim lights and murmured conversations, but to you, it was just noise. you were slumped over the counter, swirling the amber liquid in your glass like it held the answers to every question you didn’t dare ask.

“another,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse. the bartender hesitated but poured anyway, his eyes flickering with concern.

your phone buzzed on the counter, her name lighting up the screen. mina.

you stared at it, the weight of her name pressing down on your chest until it hurt. when it stopped ringing, you exhaled shakily and knocked back your drink.

“you look like you’ve been through hell,” a voice chimed beside you.

you turned sluggishly, eyes landing on a woman with a bunny smile and a glint in her eyes.

“you don’t know the half of it,” you muttered.

she extended a hand, her confidence cutting through the haze. “nayeon.”

you blinked at her hand, then shook it half-heartedly. “nice to meet you, nayeon.”

“your turn,” she said, leaning on the counter. “what’s your name?”

you hesitated, the weight of the question heavier than it should’ve been. finally, you gave it, your voice quiet.

“so,” she said, resting her chin in her hand, “what’s got you looking like the world’s most tragic main character?”

you barked a laugh, hollow and bitter. “life. that’s all.”

“well, lucky for you,” she said with a playful grin, “i’m excellent at making people forget their problems.”

her words hung in the air, an unspoken offer. and for a moment, just a moment, you considered it.

but then you saw her—mina, not here, but in your mind. the way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t watching. the way she whispered your name like it was something sacred. and then the memory twisted, her face replaced by that night. her betrayal. her lies.

“thanks,” you said, your voice cracking, “but no.”

“no?” nayeon echoed, clearly surprised.

“i have a wife,” you said, and the words felt like a knife to your chest. “even if she doesn’t deserve it, i made a vow.”

nayeon’s smile faltered, and she nodded slowly. “you’re a good one,” she said softly. “even when it hurts.”

"for better, for worse" when she left, the silence was deafening.

“you’re a goddamn mess,” a familiar voice broke through, sharp and cutting.

you didn’t need to look to know who it was. “go away, sana.”

“not a chance,” she said, sliding onto the stool beside you. “do you have any idea how many times i’ve had to drag your sorry ass out of here?”

“too many?” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“exactly,” she snapped.

you sighed, the weight of her words crushing you. “what do you want me to say, sana? that i’m fine? because i’m not.”

“i don’t want you to say anything,” she said, her voice softer now. “i just want you to stop destroying yourself.”

you laughed bitterly. “you don’t get it. you don’t know what it feels like to love someone so much it physically hurts. to have that love shattered.”

“stop talking nonsense,” she said, her tone steady. “i do know what it looks like when someone’s drowning.”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“come on,” she said, standing and offering you her hand. “let’s get you out of here.”

you stared at her hand, your vision blurring. and for the first time in a long time, you let someone pull you out of the darkness.

outside, the night air was cold and biting, but it felt almost cleansing.

“you don’t have to do this,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“do what?” she asked, glancing at you.

“be the one to save me.”

she stopped walking, turning to face you. “i’m not trying to save you,” she said quietly. “i’m just trying to remind you that you’re worth saving.”

"doesn't make sense." you mumble sassily as you let her dragged you chuckling slightly at her offended expression.

but as her words sank in, you felt something shift—just a little, but enough to make you believe it might be true— but, ofcourse you're too stubborn.

-----

the office was too quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside, muffled by the walls of glass that once made her feel untouchable. myoui mina sat in the dim light of her desk lamp, her hands trembling as she stared at the photograph in her hands. your smile, so bright and genuine, next to hers, a practiced elegance she could barely recognize now. and in the corner, hiro, beaming in a way only innocence could bring.

the frame was cracked, the glass splintered across your face. she hadn’t meant to drop it, but now it felt fitting. she set it down gently, her fingertips lingering on the jagged edge of the frame.

the myoui name had always stood for power, poise, and perfection. mina embodied it effortlessly—every step, every glance calculated, every word weighed with precision. she was untouchable, a pillar of composure even under the harshest scrutiny.

but tonight, myoui mina was crumbling.

“i ruined it,” she whispered, her voice raw. it wasn’t just a statement; it was a confession, one she’d been too proud to make aloud until now.

her breath hitched, her chest tightening as the memory clawed its way back to her. she hated bambam for pushing her, for planting the seed of insecurity she thought she’d outgrown. his words still echoed in her mind from that night—dripping with something she mistook for comfort, laced with just enough poison to make her falter.

"you deserve better than this," he had said, his hand brushing against hers. "they're way too busy with work, what if they have someone else too?"

she hated herself more for listening, for letting his words crawl under her skin and fester until they became louder than your love.

her fist slammed against the desk, papers scattering. “stupid,” she spat, the word aimed at herself. “so fucking stupid.”

her sobs started low, breaking through the practiced calm she always carried. she glance at the picture frame reaching for it as she slid off the chair, her knees hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud. her hands clutched the picture frame at her chest, as if she could tear out the guilt that was choking her.

she sat on the cold floor of her office, the world she had meticulously built feeling like it was closing in on her. her pristine dress, usually a symbol of her unshakable authority, was rumpled, stained with tears. her hair, always styled to perfection, clung to her damp face.

"you loved me," she cried, her voice cracking. "you loved me, and i... i threw it away. for what? for what?"

the room spun, the weight of her actions crushing her. she thought of your face, the way it looked the last time you saw her—betrayed, disappointed, as if the very sight of her was a burden. she had done that. myoui mina— the epitome of coldness had turned her warm love into resentment, warmth into coldness.

“why did i listen to him?” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "why wasn’t i enough?"

she tried to steady herself, but the weight of it all pressed her back down. she clutched the frame to her chest, the broken glass cutting into her palm. the pain was sharp, and droplets of blood started to drip down her hand, but it was nothing compared to the ache that consumed her.

she had been the picture of grace, of strength. yet here she was, on the floor, pleading to a god she didn’t even believe in.

“please,” she cried, her voice hoarse. “please... let me fix this. i’ll do anything. anything.”

she crawled to the edge of her desk, her bloody fingers fumbling for her phone. the screen lit up, your picture staring back at her. she dialed a number she hadn’t used in years, her voice shaking as the call connected.

"it’s me," she said, barely above a whisper.

"i need you to... take care of something. i don't care how. i'll give you that damn company if you want to."

-----

it was late, and the silence of the room was suffocating, broken only by the occasional clink of ice in sana’s glass. she sat across from you, her playful demeanor dulled to something sharper, something simmering beneath the surface. you were frustrated, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a vice, and sana—sana of all people—was here trying to tell you how to feel.

“you wouldn’t understand,” you snapped, pacing the room. “you don’t know what it’s like.”

she stiffened, her lips thinning as her grip tightened on the glass. “don’t i?” she said quietly, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—hurt, maybe.

you glanced at her, frowning. sana rarely looked anything other than confident, but now her eyes were glassy, her jaw tight.

“remember when i resented you?” she asked, the words coming out clipped, like they were dragged from some deep, hidden place.

you blinked, confused. “yeah, i remember. you never said why, though.”

she laughed bitterly, setting her glass down with a sharp clink. “because i didn’t want to admit it. not to myself, and definitely not to you.”

“admit what?”

her gaze met yours, steady and unflinching now. “that i liked bambam. and bambam—he liked mina.”

the words hit like a small crack in the foundation of your understanding. “...what?”

sana leaned back, crossing her arms. “since we were kids. he was always looking at her like she hung the moon, and she—” her voice broke slightly before she caught herself. “she treated him like he was her little brother. never gave him a chance. but that didn’t matter to him. and i was always in her shadow.”

“why resent me, then?” you asked, still grappling with the revelation. “i couldn’t control that.”

she hesitated, her bravado faltering. “because i thought—i thought you’d be just like her. like you’d walk in, marry her, and look down on me too. like you’d make everything worse.”

you stared at her, the sharp edges of your frustration softening as you watched her struggle to keep her composure. “sana...”

“i know—,” she interrupted, her voice softening. “back then, i was insecure. jealous. i was convinced you were going to ruin everything just by existing.”

you let out a dry laugh, running a hand through your hair. “sana, if i could’ve ruined everything by existing, i’d have done it years ago.”

she snorted despite herself, the tension breaking slightly. “okay, fair. but still... i hated you for all the wrong reasons. and when bambam and mina—when i saw that video... it felt like it was happening all over again.”

you looked at her, and for the first time, you didn’t see the bright, confident sana everyone else saw. you saw someone who’d been carrying a weight for far too long.

“i get it now,” you said quietly. “you don’t hate me. you hated what i made you feel about yourself.”

she nodded, her expression unreadable. “yeah. and i hated how easy it was for you to just... fit in. like you belonged here more than i ever did.”

“sana,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “you belong here. more than i do.”

she blinked, startled by your honesty. “you’re just saying that because you feel bad.”

“no, i’m saying it because it’s true,” you replied, managing a faint smile. “and because if you don’t, who’s going to annoy me into staying sane?”

she finally laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness in the air. “you’re such a sap when you’re exhausted.”

“and you’re still annoying,” you shot back, but there was no bite to it.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you just sat there, two people who’d been at odds for so long finally finding common ground.

“thanks,” she said quietly, after a long pause. “for not being the person i thought you were.”

you shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “anytime.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. it was almost... peaceful.

-----

the rain batters down relentlessly as mina steps out of her sleek black car, her stilettos sinking slightly into the muddy ground. she’s dressed in a pristine, tailored coat, the sharp lines of her outfit untouched by the disarray she feels inside. her hair, always perfectly styled, now clings to her face, the rain smudging her usually flawless makeup. it’s a picture of elegance—on any other day, she’d look untouchable.

but today, she looks ruined.

her legs feel like lead as she climbs the steps to sana’s door. her chest heaves with the weight of a hundred unspoken words, the cold rain doing nothing to numb the fire of regret burning in her lungs.

she knocks once, twice, and then her fist pounds against the wood, her desperation bleeding through. the polished, composed woman the world knows as myoui mina is nowhere to be found.

when sana opens the door, her breath catches—not because mina is standing there, but because of how she’s standing there. the regal heiress, who has never known hunger, never tasted real rejection, is utterly wrecked. her soaked clothes cling to her trembling frame, the harsh rain accentuating the cracks in her usually impeccable facade.

“sana,” mina rasps, her voice raw and trembling. “please. tell me where they are.”

“what the hell are you doing here?” sana asks, her tone sharp, though her eyes flicker with unease. she’s never seen mina like this—not even close.

mina steps forward, her knees buckling slightly, and without warning, she collapses to the ground. she doesn’t care that the expensive fabric of her coat is now caked in dirt. her head bows low, her hands pressed together like she’s offering her soul.

“i need to see them,” mina whispers, her voice cracking. “please. tell me where they are. i’ll do anything.”

sana flinches. this is not the mina she knows. this is not the woman who moves through life untouchable, who always has the upper hand.

“get up,” sana snaps, trying to steel herself against the flood of emotions threatening to pull her under.

mina shakes her head violently, her wet hair whipping against her face. “no. not until you tell me.”

“you’re making a fool of yourself,” sana says, though her voice wavers. “look at you. this isn’t you.”

“don’t you think i know that?” mina cries, her voice rising as her composure shatters. “do you think i care? i’d give up everything—everything, sana—if it means i can fix this. please, just… just tell me they’re okay. tell me they don’t hate me.”

sana’s lips press into a thin line, her jaw tight. she looks away, unable to bear the sight of mina begging like this.

mina’s knees buckle slightly, but she forces herself to stay upright. “i was scared, sana,” she says, her voice trembling. “i was scared of how much they mattered to me. i thought… i thought if i sabotaged it first, it wouldn’t hurt as much if they ever left. but i was wrong.”

“no shit,” sana mutters, crossing her arms.

“i destroyed everything,” mina continues, tears streaming down her face, indistinguishable from the rain. “but i can’t just give up. i can’t let this be the end.”

sana looks away, her lips pressed into a thin line. the sight of mina—always so composed, so untouchable—reduced to this mess of tears and desperation is unsettling.

“why are you even telling me this?” sana asks, her voice softer now, though her expression remains guarded.

mina takes a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. “because you’re the only one who knows where they might be. and because…” she hesitates, her voice breaking. “because i need someone to tell me if it’s even worth trying anymore.”

sana’s jaw clenches, her hands curling into fists. she hates this—hates seeing mina, drenched and desperate, breaking apart in front of her.

“you’re pathetic,” sana says, her tone biting. “you’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter your whole life, and now, when it all comes crashing down, you can’t even face it.”

mina nods, her tears falling harder. “i am pathetic,” she whispers. “i know that. but they’re everything to me, sana. they’re the only thing that’s ever made me feel…” she trails off, struggling to find the words. “like i could be more than what people expect me to be.”

sana exhales slowly, her expression softening despite herself. “they loved you, mina,” she says quietly. “probably more than you deserved. and you threw that away.”

mina lets out a broken sob, sinking to her knees on the wet porch. her hands press against the ground, her head bowed as she cries. “i know,” she whispers. “but please… please… just tell me where they are.”

sana hesitates, her heart twisting at the sight. this wasn’t the mina she knew—the cold, calculating heiress. this was someone raw and human, stripped of all pretense.

“even if i did,” sana says softly, her voice laced with sorrow, “what makes you think they’d want to see you like this?”

mina looks up at her, her face a portrait of anguish. “i don’t know,” she admits. “but i have to try. because if i don’t…” her voice cracks, and she presses a hand to her chest. “i’ll never forgive myself.”

sana stares at her, arms crossed tightly, her face a mask of disbelief and guarded pity. “you think crying in the rain is going to fix this? you think they’ll just forget what you did?”

mina shakes her head violently, droplets flying from her soaked hair. “no,” she whispers, her voice barely audible above the rain. “i don’t expect forgiveness. i don’t… i don’t deserve it.” her voice breaks, her shoulders trembling as she forces herself to continue. “but i need them to know… it wasn’t because i didn’t love them.”

sana’s expression hardens. “and that makes it better? what were you thinking, mina? how could you do something like that to someone who gave you everything?”

mina raises her head, her tear-streaked face a mixture of anguish and raw vulnerability. “i was scared,” she admits, her voice shaking. “i didn’t know how to love them the way they deserved. i didn’t know how to let myself be loved. do you know what it’s like to grow up in a world where every connection is transactional? where every ‘i love you’ comes with strings attached?”

sana’s jaw tightens, her silence an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth in mina’s words.

“they were different,” mina continues, her voice rising with desperation. “they saw me, not my name, not my title. just… me. and that terrified me. because if they left—if i ever lost them—it would destroy me.”

she presses a hand to her chest, the pain almost suffocating. “so i did what i thought i had to do. i distanced myself. i… i made a mistake, a horrible, unforgivable mistake, because i thought it would hurt less if they hated me first. but it doesn’t. it doesn’t hurt less, sana. it hurts more than i ever thought possible.”

sana looks away, her throat tight as she struggles to hold onto her anger. “you say all this now, but what about then? what about when you made that choice?”

mina bows her head, her tears falling freely. “i wasn’t thinking. i was selfish and scared and so, so stupid. i didn’t think about what it would do to them, to us. all i could think about was how much it would hurt if i let myself love them completely and they left me.”

her voice breaks, and she collapses further onto the ground, her hands gripping the wet earth. “but they didn’t leave, sana. they stayed. they gave me everything. and now… now i’ve lost the one thing that made me feel alive, and it’s my fault. it’s all my fault.”

sana’s chest tightens at the sight of mina—the composed, untouchable heiress—reduced to this trembling, broken figure. this wasn’t the mina she knew. this was someone raw and desperate, someone who had finally realized the weight of her own actions.

“you’re a mess,” sana says quietly, her voice tinged with both anger and pity. “you always thought you were untouchable, didn’t you? but look at you now. you’ve destroyed yourself for them.”

mina nods, her sobs choking her words. “i have,” she whispers. “and i’d do it a thousand times over if it meant they’d hear me, if it meant they’d give me a chance to make this right.”

sana sighs, running a hand through her hair. “you can’t just beg your way out of this, mina. they’re not some business deal you can negotiate. this is their heart, their trust. and you shattered it.”

“i know,” mina cries. “i know i can’t fix this overnight. but sana, please… tell me where they are. tell me what to do. i’ll give up everything—my name, my fortune, all of it—if it means i can have them back. i’ll spend the rest of my life proving to them that they’re my everything.”

sana’s hands clench into fists, her own emotions warring within her. “you want my advice?” she says after a long silence. “start by figuring out why you deserve a second chance. because right now, mina, i don’t think you do.”

sana stares at her for a long moment, her emotions a storm of anger, pity, and something she can’t quite place.

sana doesn’t respond immediately. she turns her head, her gaze fixed on the rain streaking down. when she speaks again, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“you’re pathetic, mina.”

mina doesn’t argue. she just kneels there, her head bowed, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her like a physical force.

“but they love you,” sana adds, almost reluctantly. “for some reason, they love you. so maybe… maybe you still have a chance.”

mina looks up at her, hope flickering in her tear-streaked eyes. “do you think so?” she whispers.

“don’t ask me,” sana says, turning away. “ask them.”

with that, sana steps back and closes the door, leaving mina alone in the rain.

mina collapses completely, her forehead pressing against the cold, wet ground. her sobs echo into the storm, a haunting sound of grief and regret. this wasn’t just about losing you—it was about losing the one chance she had at being more than the hollow shell her upbringing had created. and it was her fault. all her fault.

-----

the buzz of your phone stirred you from a restless sleep. you squinted at the clock on your nightstand—2:34 a.m.—and groaned. dragging your hand across your face, you grabbed the phone, your voice heavy with fatigue.

"who is it?"

a small, hesitant voice came through. "it's me."

you froze, the weariness in your bones suddenly eclipsed by a familiar ache. "mina?"

"yeah," she murmured, almost like she didn’t expect you to pick up. "sorry for calling so late. i know you’re... probably tired."

"what do you want?" you asked, your voice flat, as you sank back into the bed.

there was a pause, and for a moment you thought she’d hung up. then, softly, she said, "we’re going back to myoui town. it’s my mom’s birthday next week."

you rubbed your temples, exhaling slowly. "okay?"

"hiro’s been crying," she continued, her words gentle, deliberate. "he misses you, but i thought it’d be nice for him. and for my mom. she... she really missed you too, you know."

"yeah, well," you said, cutting her off, "tell her that that maybe she shouldn't."

"that’s not—," she said quickly, her voice breaking slightly. "you’ve always been good to us of course she will..." her words trailed off, and the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on your chest.

"why are you telling me this, mina?" you asked, shifting under the covers. "you don’t need my permission to go."

"i know," she said softly. "but i thought you’d want to know. about hiro, at least. and..." she hesitated, her voice trembling. "i just wanted to check on you."

"i’m fine," you said, though the exhaustion in your voice betrayed you.

"are you?" she asked, the regret heavy in her tone. "i know i’m the last person you want to hear from, but i worry about you. i—" she stopped, taking a shaky breath. "i can’t stop thinking about... you."

you closed your eyes, the familiar ache creeping back in. "don’t do this right now, mina."

"i’m sorry," she whispered. "i just... i wanted you to know. and i wanted to say thank you. for picking up. for still being good to hiro, even when you hate me."

you stayed quiet, too tired to argue, too drained to tell her how wrong she was. you didn’t hate her—not entirely. but you couldn’t forgive her either. not yet.

"i hope you’re okay," she said after a moment, her voice so small it made your chest tighten. "i hope... one day, we’ll be okay."

"i—" the words caught in your throat, and you clenched your jaw, swallowing hard. you didn’t know what you wanted to say, or if you even had the right to say anything at all.

you can hear hiro’s laughter echo faintly through the phone, and you closed your eyes, the sound twisting the knife deeper. you could picture him there, carefree and happy, unaware of the mess surrounding him.

"take care of him," you said finally, your voice strained. "just... make sure he’s okay."

"i always do," mina replied, and there was a weight to her words that made you ache even more.

the line went quiet after that, neither of you willing to hang up but both too drained to say anything else. eventually, you ended the call, dropping the phone onto the other side of the bed and burying your face in your pillow.

the thought of them leaving—of her leaving—was a sharp reminder of just how much had slipped through your fingers. and yet, all you could do was sit there, alone in the darkness, trying to convince yourself that it didn’t matter.

but it did. fuck, it did.

-----

mina adjusted hiro’s jacket for the third time, her fingers tugging gently at the fabric to make sure it fit snugly against the chill in the air. the little boy was more interested in the blossoms overhead, his tiny hands reaching skyward as they walked through the old town.

“you like that, hm?” she murmured, her voice soft, almost lost in the gentle breeze. hiro giggled in response, his face lighting up with pure delight.

she smiled, despite herself.

it was quieter here than in the city, the hum of life replaced with the rustle of leaves and the faint sound of a bell in the distance. her parents had always said this place felt timeless, and for the first time, mina felt it too.

but that weight in her chest—the one that had settled there ever since you’d stopped coming home—it hadn’t eased.

hiro babbled something incoherent, his chubby little hand pointing toward a cluster of vibrant pink blossoms hanging low on a branch. mina crouched down, lifting him in her arms to bring him closer.

“careful,” she said, her tone laced with a tenderness that had become second nature with him. he grabbed at a petal, his grip clumsy but enthusiastic.

she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket but ignored it for now. instead, she reached for the camera app, snapping a picture of hiro against the backdrop of the blossoms.

he looked so much like you in moments like this.

her heart clenched as she stared at the screen.

after a moment’s hesitation, she opened your chat. the thread was mostly one-sided these days—updates on hiro, little notes about his milestones, reminders that she was trying.

trying to keep you tethered. trying to remind you there was still a place for you here.

she attached the photo and typed:

“hiro loves the blossoms. he’s so curious about everything here. thought you’d want to see this.”

her thumb hovered over the send button. for a split second, she thought about deleting it. but she hit send before she could think too hard.

hiro wriggled in her arms, and she adjusted her grip, letting him rest his head against her shoulder. she started walking again, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestone path.

her phone buzzed, and she fumbled to unlock it, her breath hitching when she saw your reply.

“looks good. bet hiro’s loving it. you look…”

her heart skipped, her thumb scrolling slowly.

“miss you.”

she froze.

the words blurred slightly as her eyes filled with an emotion she didn’t want to name.

you miss me? after everything? after i broke us?

hiro babbled again, drawing her out of her spiraling thoughts. she kissed the top of his head, her lips brushing against his soft hair.

with trembling fingers, she replied:

“we miss you too.”

it felt like a small step.

a tentative bridge.

her chest ached as she added another message:

“mom’s birthday is soon. she’s been asking about you.”

she slipped her phone back into her pocket, her gaze lifting to the blossoms again. they were beautiful, fleeting.

please come back to us, she thought, her arms tightening protectively around hiro.

as they reached the edge of the path, she glanced at her phone once more, hoping, praying.

when your reply came, she exhaled shakily.

heavily disappointed she let herself move slowly glancing at hiro sadly while pointing at some falling leaves seeing hiro babble excitedly made her heart clench and she let herself drown in her thoughts.

-----

you sit at your desk, fingers aimlessly scrolling through the same set of documents you’ve been staring at for hours. the work isn’t hard, but the focus? yeah, that’s another story.

your eyes flicker to the family photo on the corner of your desk. it’s the one mina insisted on framing—a candid shot of the three of you during a rare moment of peace. hiro’s baby grin, your awkward smile, mina’s soft, rare laugh.

your chest tightens.

a soft buzz on your phone pulls your attention. it’s a picture from mina: her holding hiro in her arms, standing against a backdrop of vibrant cherry blossoms. hiro’s chubby little hand is reaching for a petal, his face lit up with curiosity. she’s smiling—soft, maternal, and glowing.

"hiro loves the blossoms. he’s so curious about everything here. thought you’d want to see this."

you stare at the screen longer than you mean to. a knot of emotions you don’t quite know how to unravel builds in your chest—annoyance, longing, maybe even something bordering on desperation.

you set the phone down, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. maybe it’s the way she looks so damn serene in that picture, like she hasn’t turned your world upside down a hundred times over.

or maybe it’s because it’s been too long. too long since you’ve felt her touch, heard her laugh, even fought with her properly.

before you realize it, your thumbs are moving.

“looks good. bet hiro’s loving it. you look…” you hesitate, then type, “beautiful.”

a pause. delete. rewrite.

“miss you.”

short, simple, but it feels like ripping your chest open. you hit send before you can second-guess it.

and the second it’s gone, you’re frozen.

what the hell did you just do?

you stare at your phone like it’s going to explode, the words glaring back at you as if mocking your moment of vulnerability. for a split second, you think about chucking the damn thing across the room, but then—what if she replies?

your hands are clammy, your heart’s racing, and suddenly your office feels ten degrees hotter. you pace back and forth, running a hand through your hair like it’s going to do anything to untangle the mess you’ve made in your head.

“what is wrong with me?” you mutter under your breath. “am i drunk? i’m at work! i haven’t even had a drink!”

you stop mid-step, gripping the back of your chair like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. your mind replays the text over and over, each loop digging deeper into your pride. miss you.

the audacity. the weakness.

you glance at the framed photo on your desk—the one of mina holding hiro on her hip, the both of them laughing under the sunlight. your chest tightens, and you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

“this is so stupid,” you hiss to no one in particular. “she’s probably laughing right now. probably showing her mom, ‘look at this idiot, still hung up on me.’”

but even as you say it, you know it’s not true. mina’s not like that. or, at least, she wasn’t.

you sit down heavily in your chair, glaring at your phone like it’s personally betrayed you.

god, why did i have to send that? why couldn’t i just say… nice blossoms? or cute kid? or nothing at all?

your phone buzzes, and you nearly fall out of your chair scrambling to grab it.

the notification lights up the screen:

“we miss you too.”

your breath catches.

it’s not much. not an apology, not an explanation, not even a promise. but it’s enough to make your shoulders sag, the knot in your chest loosening just a little.

you sit there for a moment, just staring at the message, letting it sink in.

and then another message pops up.

“mom’s birthday is soon. she’s been asking about you.”

you blink, reading it twice, three times, like the words are in a language you’re still trying to learn.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard.

“tell her advance happy birthday;”

you hit send, and this time, there’s no panic.

no pacing, no muttering, no spiraling.

just… quiet.

you sit back, exhaling slowly, staring at the photo again. maybe you’re weak for her. maybe you always will be.

you set the phone down and stare at the photo again. your thumb rubs over the edge of the frame absentmindedly.

you’d go.

maybe it’s for hiro. maybe it’s for mina. maybe, just maybe, it’s for yourself.

-----

the traditional myoui family estate in japan was alive with celebration, the grand hall filled with the soft clinking of glasses and the hum of polite laughter. mina stood near the entrance, perfectly poised as always, though her hands fidgeted slightly—a rare display of unease for someone so collected.

her mother’s sharp voice broke through her thoughts. “mina, where is your spouse? it’s my birthday, and yet they’re nowhere to be found.”

mina straightened her posture, masking her discomfort. “they’re busy with work,” she began, her tone measured but unconvincing. “something urgent came up—”

“work?” mrs. myoui interrupted, her lips pressing into a thin line. “on a day like this? unacceptable. i don’t understand? do they think work is more important than my birthday?"

before mina could stammer out another excuse, the double doors to the hall swung open, stealing everyone’s attention.

“apologies for the delay,” you announced, stepping in with a confident stride. a bouquet of lavish flowers in one hand and a beautifully wrapped gift box in the other, your presence immediately commanded the room.

mina’s breath caught, her carefully composed facade momentarily cracking.

“fashionably late as always,” mrs. myoui said, her disapproving tone softened by the glint of amusement in her eyes.

you bowed politely, offering the flowers to her. “only for the most important occasions, mrs. myoui. i hope these can make up for my tardiness.”

she chuckled, accepting the gifts. “you always know how to charm your way out of trouble.”

“it’s a skill i’ve perfected,” you quipped, your voice light. but as your gaze shifted to mina, the warmth in your tone faded, replaced by a distant professionalism. “myoui mina,” you greeted curtly, with a nod that felt colder than the winter breeze.

mina’s jaw tightened, but she forced a smile. “thank you for coming,” she said softly, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

you didn’t respond, turning back to her mother instead. “it’s an honor to celebrate such a special day with your family.”

as the evening wore on, you maintained a polite but distant demeanor, mingling with the guests and exchanging pleasantries. mina, meanwhile, found her attempts to approach you rebuffed at every turn. when she brushed her hand against yours while passing, you didn’t react. when she tried to make small talk about hiro, your answers were clipped and polite, but devoid of warmth.

from across the room, she watched as you charmed her family and the guests, her chest tightening with a mix of regret and longing. every time you glanced her way, it was with a composed indifference that stung more than outright hostility.

it wasn’t until later in the evening, as the festivities quieted down, that mina found herself standing alone near the balcony. she turned when she sensed you approaching, her heart leaping for a brief moment. but your focus wasn’t on her—it was on hiro, who was being carried by one of the family attendants.

you reached out, taking hiro into your arms with practiced ease. “hey, buddy,” you murmured, your voice softening as you cradled him close. mina watched, her throat tightening as she took in the sight of you and hiro together.

when your eyes finally met hers, there was a flicker of something—an unspoken tension, a shared history that neither of you could escape. but just as quickly, you turned your attention back to hiro.

as the evening progressed, the guests began to drift toward the dining hall, leaving mina and you momentarily alone on the balcony. the cool night air brushed against her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver—it was the frigid distance you’d placed between the two of you all evening.

“you’re good with him,” mina said quietly, nodding toward hiro nestled in your arms, his tiny fingers clutching at your shirt as he drifted off to sleep.

you didn’t look at her. instead, you kept your gaze on hiro, gently adjusting the blanket around him. “he’s my son. it’s not exactly a choice.”

the words landed like a slap, and mina’s breath hitched. she took a step closer, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “i didn’t mean it like that,” she said softly. “i just… i wanted to thank you for coming. it means a lot to my family.”

finally, you turned to face her, your expression unreadable but your eyes sharp. “i didn’t come for your family, mina. i came for hiro. let’s not pretend otherwise.”

but it feels like a blatant lie with the way your jaw clenched almost disgusted at yourself for feeding yourself lies.

her composure faltered, and she bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the ground. “i know i’ve hurt you,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “but i’m trying—”

“trying to what?” you interrupted, your tone cutting but quiet enough not to wake hiro. “fix what you broke? erase what happened? you think showing up with a smile and a few kind words will make everything better?”

she flinched, visibly shrinking under the weight of your words. “i’m not asking you to forgive me overnight,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “but i miss you. i miss us. and i’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “missing someone doesn’t mean much when you’ve already proven how little you cared when it mattered.”

her eyes glistened, and for a moment, she looked utterly vulnerable—a stark contrast to the poised heiress the world knew her as. “that’s not true,” she said, her voice breaking. “you have no idea how much i—”

“don’t,” you said firmly, cutting her off. “don’t stand here and tell me how much you cared while i was the only one crying trying to pick up pieces of myself.”

mina’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her eyes pleading as she stepped closer. “please,” she said, her voice cracking. “that's not— i've also—"

“good night, mina,” you said curtly, brushing past her as you carried hiro inside.

she stayed on the balcony, frozen in place, the weight of your words crushing her. she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, but it was no use.

as the door clicked shut behind you, mina sank onto the balcony railing, the sound of the distant laughter and celebration inside only amplifying the silence that now surrounded her. she had always been so sure of herself, so in control—but tonight, she felt small, powerless, and utterly lost.

-----

the quiet streets of the traditional japanese town were bathed in soft moonlight, the air carrying the faint scent of blooming wisteria. myoui mina sat on the edge of a wooden bridge, a bottle of sake beside her, her poised demeanor long abandoned. she was disheveled, her elegant blouse slightly wrinkled, her usually sharp eyes glassy and red-rimmed.

in her hand, she held a small daisy, its delicate petals trembling between her fingers.

"they like me," she murmured, plucking a petal and letting it drift down into the stream below. her voice was tinged with mockery, a hollow laugh escaping her lips.

"they like me not." she tore the next petal with more force, the bitterness in her tone cutting through the stillness of the night.

hidden just beyond the bridge, you leaned against the corner of a nearby building, out of sight but close enough to hear every word. you’d stumbled upon her by accident during your aimless walk— aimless? or did you just see her leave the residence and was worried? no— it doesn't matter. you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

mina continued her ritual, her voice growing quieter with each petal. "they like me… they like me not…" her hands trembled, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought back the tears threatening to spill.

when she reached the final petal, she stared at it for a long moment.

"they like me," she whispered, her voice cracking. she gave a bitter, humorless laugh, tossing the petal into the water. "as if. they don’t even look at me anymore."

her laughter died, replaced by a shaky breath. "i don’t like them either," she muttered, the lie barely holding together. "i hate them."

she froze, the words hanging in the air like a broken promise. then, as if something deep inside her had shattered, her shoulders began to shake.

"i don't like them," she repeated, her voice breaking completely. "i love them. i love them so much."

her head dropped into her hands, and she began to sob openly, her elegant facade crumbling like a fragile mask. "i love them," she choked out, the admission spilling from her lips like a dam bursting. "and they hate me. they hate me, and i deserve it."

your heart ached at the sight of her, the woman who once seemed untouchable now falling apart before your eyes. you wanted to step forward, to say something, but your feet remained rooted to the ground.

mina’s sobs echoed in the quiet night, her vulnerability cutting through you in a way you hadn’t expected. but instead of approaching, you turned away, your chest tight with an unspoken heaviness.

you walked away slowly, your steps careful and silent, leaving her alone on the bridge. the image of her broken figure stayed with you, etched into your mind, and as much as you tried to push it aside, it lingered, a painful reminder of everything unresolved.

behind you, mina remained on the bridge, her cries fading into the stillness of the night, unaware that you had been there all along.

-----

the morning sun painted the myoui estate in warm hues, the tranquility of the traditional japanese town a stark contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface. you wandered the garden aimlessly, still dressed in your rumpled pajamas, the cool breeze doing little to shake off your lingering exhaustion.

the faint sound of footsteps made you glance up, and there she was—myoui mina, beautiful as ever despite the shadows of sleeplessness beneath her eyes. her gaze locked onto yours, determined, though something fragile lingered behind it.

"we need to talk," she began, her voice even but strained.

you sighed, dragging a hand through your hair. "about what, mina? i don’t have the energy for this."

"we have an interview this afternoon," she said, stepping closer.

that caught you off guard. "an interview? for what? we’re not doing any gala or charity event."

"it’s about us," mina clarified, her words deliberate. "our marriage. how we fell in love."

your brow furrowed, and a humorless laugh escaped your lips. "are you kidding me? mina, we don’t need to answer any of that. it’s useless."

mina squared her shoulders, her voice gaining an edge. "it’s not useless. it’s about keeping your dignity. your name. your reputation."

you stared at her, incredulous. "my dignity?" you snapped, the fatigue giving way to anger. "you want me to sit there and talk about a marriage that doesn’t even exist? why don’t you do it, mina? you’re good at putting on a show."

her expression faltered, but she held her ground. "how can i?" she asked, her voice cracking despite her effort to keep it steady. "it’s for couples. they’ll know something’s wrong if you’re not there."

your frustration boiled over, your voice rising. "then tell them we’re fine! tell them we’re doing great, that we’re more in love than ever!" you stepped closer, your words sharp and cutting. "Lie, mina. You’re good at that too, aren’t you?"

her breath hitched, but she didn’t respond, her eyes searching yours desperately.

you took a step back, shaking your head.

"you’re my wife on paper, mina. not my responsibility."

the words hung in the air like a slap, the finality of them echoing between you. mina stood frozen, her composure cracking.

you didn’t wait for her reply—not that she had one. and as you walked away, the ache in your chest twisted, sharper than ever, because deep down, you knew:

it wasn’t her who had lost everything. it was you.

-----

end of part five.

a/n — i'm so sorry for this shitty chapter bruv it's my birthday and it's like 1:43AM, i've been drinking and i have a throbbing headache. I decided to rush this so i apologize deeply for any wrong doing because frankly i don't even remember what i wrote.

[jawbrkrs]

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆  𝒉𝒂𝒅  𝒕𝒐  be  a  rule  ,  or  some  type  of  conduce  that  deemed  this  wrong  .  but  then  again  he  was  the  ceo  ...  who  would  fire  him  .  the  thought  slipped  away  like  smoke  in  the  wind  ,  especially  when  her  lips  lingered  just  a  breath  away  from  his  .  bourbon  coursed  through  his  veins,  dulling  the  edges  of  restraint.  with  her  lips  pushed  against  his  again  ,  and  her  words  wrapped  around  his  tongue  ,  he  only  deepened  the  kiss  .  his  body  moved  instinctively,  pressing  her  against  the  glass  pane  of  his  desk  .  the  sound  of  fireworks  going  off  in  the  back  ,  told  him  the  clock  had  finally  stuck  twelve  ,  and  he  couldn't  think  of  a  better  way  to  start  his  year  .  for  so  long  he  had  wondered  about  the  magic  of  her  lips  on  his  ,  imagined  their  warmth  and  softness  ,  the  hint  of  tequila  now  adding  a  daring  edge  to  the  kiss  . with  a  bit  of  courage  ,  his  hands  began  a  slow  exploration,  tracing  her  curves  ,  gripping  her  skin  .  one  hand  found  its  resting  place  at  the  small  of  her  back  ,  pulling  her  closer  still  .  "  come  home  with  me  tonight  ?  "  he  mumbled  into  her  mouth  ,  refusing  to  break  the  kiss  even  for  a  heartbeat  . they  only  truly  knew  each  other  in  an  office  setting  ,  with  limits  and  bounds  —  and  now  he  wanted  to  explore  every  side  of  her  .

her head had completely emptied, all she could think about was how his lips would feel against hers. a small gasp escaped against his lips as he kissed her. her free hand gripped onto his tie, anchoring herself to him, as her eyes fluttered shut. her tongue brushed against his desperate to taste him more. when he pulled away her eyes slowly opened once more. his quick apology causing the blush to tint her cheeks once more, her fingers still gripped onto his tie. "please do not apologize... i... i liked it a lot. please do it more... please..." her voice was softer than before. she closed the gap between their lips once more. she moaned softly trying not to seem as desperate as she felt.

[knockknockitsnickels]

Honestly I've set myself up for disappointment because when the new arc comes out and it does NOT contain Tawnypelt x Leafstar Yuri with their adoptive daughter Moonpaw I'm going to be devastated

[sysig]

Alright well that was fun and all but I gotta go like right now bye (Patreon)

[ladyinthebluebox]

...smth smth history gives me big feels™

[sparkledcrowns]

☆ﾟ*·ﾟCALI'S EYES WIDENED, not realizing that she might want to actually hang out with her, let alone stay in a place like this. but friendships were something that she valued very strongly and felt that in a situation like this that she needed to appreciate them more. with a bright grin, she looked around the are, wondering where the performance woudl even happen. "there's a performance too? oh gosh, we absolutely have to stay then! that sounds like a wonderful way to spend our night. better than being hold up inside," cali stated, taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

she wanted to try every flavor she possibly could now and would absolutely have to come back another day to try more. there were so many fresh flavors that she missed from back home. perhaps they'd remind her of it and she wouldn't miss home so much. "you definitely should!" sighing softly with a smile, cali now really wanted to go back home as soon as she could. "oh gosh, that's one of my favorite juices. we put it in everything back home. i kept asking the chefs how they did it, but they kept telling me it was a secret." shaking the other's hand, she was glad someone was out having fun. "it's good to meet you! i haven't been very sociable lately, just trying to explore everything. that's a lot better than trying to figure out more of why we're here, because it's starting to hurt my head a bit."

MANON was sold the moment the fae mentioned food. Like any other good High fae without a care in the world ( & those were rare, to be fair ), she would be tempted & bribed with food. She loved trying new things & this new courts reeked of novelties - especially food wise.

"We can stay for the bard's performance & order dinner. I heard he makes rather comedic limericks & I've been told one can enjoy a variety of foods here." she enthusiastically nodded.

At the mention of strawberries, Manon wondered if the fae might belong to Spring or Summer court - when was it that the stawberries bloom? Not in winter, that was sure. She could've easily been one of the solar courts, too, but Mani didn't dwell on it too long - she'll find out eventually.

"I should try that one next, then! Though, I've tired a juice made of Summer's roses & it was simply divine!" she chuckled, then stuck her hand out, "Absolutely! I'm Manon & I'm so pleased to have met you!"

[gender-euphowrya]

the forgotten city Good 👍