#and finally i have a clear picture of them and-

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Heartslabyul

Go here for other dorms

Riddle Rosehearts

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you approach Riddle. He’s seated in the Heartslabyul garden, engrossed in a book, completely unaware that his life is about to change forever.

Your hands are sweating. Fantastic. Nothing says “I love you” like handing someone a heart-shaped box drenched in pure nervousness.

“Riddle,” you say, voice admirably steady despite the chaos in your soul.

He looks up, eyes widening slightly at your presence. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

You very calmly thrust the box toward him like a knight presenting a sacred relic. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I made this for you.”

The change is immediate.

Riddle freezes, his entire face flaring up like a traffic light on its final warning. His fingers twitch as he hesitantly accepts the box, staring at it as if you’d just handed him the crown of a foreign kingdom.

“You… made this? For me?” His voice is slightly higher than usual. The poor guy is barely holding it together.

You nod, feeling your heart slam against your ribs. “Yeah. And, um… I like you. A lot.”

For a second, you’re terrified he might actually faint. His ears are burning, his posture unnaturally stiff as he processes your words in real time. You can practically see the gears in his head jamming.

Then, slowly, carefully, he sets the box on the table beside him, takes a breath, and stands.

And before you can react, he takes your hand in his, bows slightly, and presses the lightest, most delicate kiss against your knuckles.

It’s so soft. So warm. So utterly, devastatingly polite—yet scandalously romantic—that your brain completely short-circuits.

He lifts his gaze to yours, still impossibly red but full of something achingly genuine. “I… accept your feelings,” he murmurs, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “And I—I… I like you as well."

You’re gone. This is too much. His flustered sincerity should not be this cute.

Riddle clears his throat, attempting to compose himself—but he absolutely fails because his blush is creeping down his neck now. “A-Anyway. Shall we have tea together? I’d… like to enjoy this properly.”

You nod, still speechless.

Somehow, this went even better than expected.

Trey Clover

You’re standing in an empty classroom, clutching your carefully wrapped box of chocolates like it’s a lifeline. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock and the absolute hurricane of nerves raging inside you.

Trey stands across from you, looking as effortlessly cool and put-together as ever, the picture of someone who probably never panics over something as simple as chocolate. Which is unfair, actually, because you’ve been agonizing over this moment.

“I, uh…” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I made these for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Trey blinks in surprise before his expression softens into something warm. “Oh?” He takes the box with careful hands, like it’s something precious. “You made these yourself?”

You nod, but you can’t bring yourself to watch him open it, your stomach twisting into a knot. “Yeah. I know they’re probably not as good as what you make, but—”

“You’re nervous.”

You flinch when you feel the lightest touch under your chin, his fingers tilting your face up. You hadn’t even noticed him stepping closer.

Your breath catches when you meet his eyes. They’re so gentle, full of something soft and unreadable, and suddenly, this moment feels a lot bigger than just some chocolates.

“You really think I’d compare this to something I bake?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing just below your eyes before dropping away. “You made this for me. That alone makes it special.”

Your heart is going through it.

“I—” You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts before you combust. “Trey, I like you. That’s… that’s why I wanted to do this.”

There’s a small pause. And then—his smile.

It’s real, not his usual easygoing grin but something genuine, touched, and just a little bit shy.

“I like you too,” he says, his voice warm as honey.

Oh. Oh.

You barely have time to process it before he straightens up, still holding the chocolates in one hand while the other slides into his pocket. “Come on,” he says, nodding toward the door. “Let me walk you back.”

You blink. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His smile quirks at the edges, teasing now. “Gotta make sure you don’t run off before I can ask you out properly, right?”

Your heart is doomed.

Cater Diamond

You find Cater in a quiet hallway between classes, leaning against the wall and idly scrolling through his phone. The second he notices you approaching, he perks up, flashing you an easy grin.

"Hey, hey! Fancy seeing you here." His eyes flicker down to the heart-shaped box in your hands, and his grin turns teasing. "Ooooh, what’s this? Someone’s got a Valentine?”

Your stomach is doing backflips. But you force yourself to hold out the box, pretending you’re not dying inside.

“For you,” you manage, voice steady despite the heat creeping up your neck.

Cater blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful energy pauses, just for a second.

“For me?” His voice is light, but there’s something in it—something careful. “Like… me, me?”

You nod, heart hammering. “Yeah. I like you, Cater. That’s… why I made them.”

And for the first time ever, you see Cater Diamond speechless.

He just stands there, staring at you like you’ve just told him the greatest plot twist of the century. Then, all at once, his grin returns—brighter, realer, and just a little bit unsteady.

“You’re serious?” He lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “Like, you—out of everyone—actually like me?”

“Obviously?” You shift the box toward him, raising a brow. “You gonna take these or what?”

The teasing snaps him out of it, and he laughs, reaching forward to grab the chocolates and, in the same movement, presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

Your brain blue-screens.

“There,” he says, still grinning as he pulls back. “A little thank-you for totally making my day.”

You open your mouth—whether to yell, combust, or actually form words, you’re not sure—but he’s already linking his arm with yours, spinning you both toward the exit.

“Sooo, where do you wanna go for our first date?”

“What—wait, first date?”

“Duh!” He holds up the chocolates with a wink. “You confess, I accept, we date—it’s the natural order of things.”

An absolute success.

Ace Trappola

You don’t even get the chance to find Ace before Ace finds you.

"Whoa, what’s this?" His voice is all mock innocence as he suddenly appears at your side, eyes locked onto the box of chocolates in your hands. He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like he’s just witnessed a scandal unfold. "No way. You? Giving out chocolates? Some poor soul's gonna get victimized today."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Victimized?"

"Yeah, y'know—" He gestures vaguely, rocking back on his heels. "Swept up, led on, utterly ruined for anyone else. Tragic, really."

He’s dying of jealousy. You can see it. Feel it. Smell it in the air like cheap cologne.

You roll your eyes, already fed up. "Well, if you’re so concerned, maybe I should just eat them myself."

Ace laughs. "What, you’d steal your own chocolates? That’s cold."

"Not really, considering they were meant for you."

Silence.

Ace stares at you, frozen mid-smirk. His brain just blue-screened. You can see the processing bar loading at 2% completion.

"...Huh?"

You sigh, shifting the box in your hands. "I made them for you, dumbass. But if you don’t want them, I guess—"

You don’t get to finish that sentence because suddenly, Ace is clutching the box to his chest like it’s the last treasure on earth.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up—who said I didn’t want them? I want them!" He’s grinning now, the brightest, cockiest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen on him. "You serious? You really made these for me?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah. But you’re being a brat, so I kinda regret it now."

"Nah, too late! No take-backs!" He laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. Then—softer, realer, a little bit breathless— "You really like me, huh?"

You hesitate, suddenly flustered under the weight of his gaze. "...Yeah."

His fingers tighten around the box. "Good. 'Cause I like you too."

Your breath catches.

Ace tilts his head, there’s a warmth in his eyes now—something soft, relieved, like he’s been waiting for this. "Thought you’d never notice, y’know? Been here the whole time, just waiting."

You scoff, rolling your eyes to cover how fast your heart is beating. "And yet you were so ready to tease me about it."

"Of course!" He throws an arm around your shoulders, grinning like he’s just won the lottery. "What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t mess with you at least a little?"

"Boyfriend?!"

"Uh, yeah? You confessed, I accepted, now you’re stuck with me forever. Basic math."

Mission accomplished (You think?)

Deuce Spade

It’s just another casual hangout, nothing out of the ordinary—except for the heart-shaped box of chocolates you’ve been hiding behind your back like it’s a live explosive.

Deuce is sitting on your couch, totally unaware of the internal chaos happening mere feet away. He’s relaxed, chatting about his day, but the second you clear your throat and step forward, he pauses mid-sentence, sensing danger.

"Uh… you good?" he asks, blinking up at you.

"Yeah. Fine. Totally normal." You inhale, ignore the full-body cringe threatening to consume you, and hold out the box. "This is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day."

Deuce freezes. Like, actually freezes.

His eyes dart between you and the chocolates like he’s trying to make sure this isn’t some cruel prank. His hands are shaking just a little when he reaches out, carefully accepting the box like it might disappear if he blinks too fast.

"You—" His voice cracks, and he immediately clears his throat, ears burning red. "You made these? For me?"

You nod, trying so hard to play it cool. "Yeah. I like you, so… yeah."

For a second, nothing happens. Then—his grin.

It’s shy, just a little wobbly, but so ridiculously bright that your stomach does a full gymnastics routine.

"You… like me," he repeats, as if he needs to say it out loud to believe it.

"Unless you don’t want them, in which case, I can just—"

"No!" He clutches the box to his chest like it’s his most prized possession. "No way, I—I want them. I just—" He exhales, a little breathless, still grinning like an idiot. "I can’t believe this is happening."

You barely have time to process that before he straightens up, determination flickering in his eyes.

"Can I—" He swallows. "Can I take you on a date? I mean, since you—since we—" He gestures vaguely at the chocolates, too flustered to form a proper sentence.

You laugh, heart so stupidly full. "Yeah, Deuce. I’d love that."

His breath catches. Then he nods—fast, like he’s locking it in before reality can take it away. "O-Okay. Cool. Great. I’ll—I'll plan something good, I promise."

You grin. "I’d expect nothing less."

Deuce beams.

He looks down at the chocolates again, still holding them like the most precious thing in the world.

And honestly? You think this might be the best decision you’ve ever made.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° and he keeps a picture of you

( bllk boys x gn! reader )

♡ a/n — been MIA for so long i wanted to write something small ans cute :)

♡ word count — 1k

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x gn! reader, sae itoshi x gn! reader, alexis ness x gn! reader, rin itoshi x gn! reader, all characters are 18+, just cutieness , engagement (yukimiya), childhood lovers (sae), nickname 'love' used (ness),

♡ synopsis — some bllk boys (yukimiya, sae, ness, rin) and what their phone lock screen is :)

⊹｡° yukimiya kenyu

out of all the boys, yukimiya kenyu is the one most likely to have the cutest picture of the two of you as his background.

everyone gets sick of him bragging about your relationship, just how perfect you are, how sickly sweet you are to him.

yukimiya changes his lock screen every week, and of course he has to show them off to his team.

most of the time, it's a picture of you two holding hands- or you two in matching outfits that yuki had chosen himself.

everyone on his team had gotten tired of him showing off his perfect life and amazing relationship.

while, if you held down long enough, yukimiya's options for a lock screen weren't limited.

one was of you sitting across from him at dinner- a win glass in front of you as you gave him a smile. 'because you look like a dream in this' he'd told you when you asked why that one was his new lock screen of the week.

another of you asleep on his shoulder, a clear patch of drool showing in the picture. 'i wanna wake up to this every morning' he'd justified.

and this weeks lock screen, hm? well, it's his personal favorite.

a photo of you jumping on yukimiya while the two of you are dressed in another set of matching outfits. to anyone else, this may just look like his average screen saver.

but to him, and anyone who looks hard enough, the shiny new ring on your left hand ring finger is a clear sign; yukimiya finally asked you to marry him.

this one wouldn't be changed for a while.

not until he saw you in your wedding outfit.

⊹｡° sae itoshi

everyone of his nosey fans always wonders...what is sae itoshi's lock screen? flashes of it had been shown at press interviews, but no one could figure out what it was.

for a week on social media, fangirls (and guys) were stopping interviews for the tiniest glimpse at his phone. eventually, after coming to the assumption that he was a bland man who simply left it on the default lock screen, the internet calmed down.

and was sae a calm man who usually didn't change things that were fine as is? yes.

but what no one knew, what no one would ever find out, is that sae itoshi had a secret life- one secret from the press and internet- only for him to have and hold.

you.

you had been his girlfriend since he was 14, yet he refused to let the world and its nosiness ruin a perfect thing.

he was careless during the singular press interview, his phone in view- he was just lucky that the quality wasn't the best because then everyone in the world would know; sae itoshi was utterly whipped.

his lock screen, you ask? it's the only one he has set- and he'll never change it.

it's a simple picture of you on the balcony of your shared home, the sunset illuminating you perfectly as you looked over your shoulder at him with the most stunning smile on your face.

sae itoshi wouldn't let the world ruin that smile.

ever.

⊹｡° alexis ness

for the first year you were dating ness, his lock screen was a picture of him and kaiser in their uniforms- their last names stretched across their backs.

was this insane to you? yes. but you knew how much kaiser had changed ness' passion and love for soccer, and that's all you could be grateful for.

so when you grabbed ness' phone one morning to change the playlist while the two of you made breakfast and saw that he changed the background? you almost cried.

was it silly to be so emotional over? sure. but you knew how much kaiser meant to ness- he possibly loved him more than you (joking) (no i'm not)

the picture was so cute and innocent- the lock screen now a picture of you in a magicians get-up with cards in your hand.

you'd done it for ness' birthday, for his love of magic- you'd learned to do a few card tricks and he laughed at you as you tried ( and failed ) to shuffle- the cards flying everywhere.

when he realized the music hadn't changed , ness looked back at you - his pink apron wrapped around him, "everything okay, love?"

yeah.

everything was perfect.

⊹｡° rin itoshi

refused to change his lock screen when you started dating.

he was perfectly fine with the default one, why should be have to change his phone set-up just to prove his love?

in his mind, that was silly.

he loved you more than (almost) anything, except soccer.

let's be serious soccer was a very close second when it came to you, but rin would never admit that- his dream of becoming the best striker and his ego too high to say that.

he didn't understand why people needed their significant other on their lock screen. they'd see them everyday, was one picture really that important?

he thought that until he walked into your shared bedroom one day after a long day and a hard fought win against Manshine City.

all he wanted to do was take a shower, eat dinner, and lay down with you.

then he saw you, curled up on the bed wearing his jersey.

he told you not to wait up for him. you couldn't attend the game in person due to work, but he didn't mind. you were with him always.

but seeing you, fast asleep with his last name on your back- he finally understood.

he could look at this scene for hours.

he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and quickly snapped a picture before he slipped into bed next to you.

he suddenly didn't need a shower and he wasn't hungry.

he just wanted to be near you.

when you woke up the next morning while rin was on his morning run, you grabbed his phone to check the time

your sleeping face met your gaze, and a smile that probably looked so goofy spread across your face.

rin had never seen the point of changing his lock screen

until he saw you with his name on your figure.

suddenly he wanted to give you that last name for the two of you to share.

may make a part 2 , be on the look out :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[angelackless]

LOVE LETTERS & HEART-SHAPED COOKIES

Jensen Ackles X controversially young!reader

WITH JENSEN EVERYDAY FELT LIKE VALENTINE'S DAY TO YOU. There were always a flower,jewelry, your favorite chocolate's waiting for you somewhere in the house. Jensen loved spoiling you, and he took every chance to do it, but on Valentine's day he wanted to do something more meaningful, since it was your first time celebrating it together.

He even asked for help from his mother, your mother,your friends, even Gen to make sure that what he does is good and you'll love it.

He got everything ready by the time you arrived home, he cooked your favorite food, poured out that red wine he knows you like, lighted some scented candles and had your presents in a bow printed wrapping paper, and one in his jeans, and no, this time it wasn't the one that he makes you feel good with every day.

When you entered the house you were met with the dimly lit house, you took your shoes and coat down, putting it into it's place.

"Jensen?" you walked deeper inside the house "are you home?" instead of an answer you felt two strong arms wrapped around you and for a second you were ready to hit him with your purse in case someone broke in, but then he finally spoke up

"happy Valentine's day, princess" he kissed your cheek

"you scared the shit out of me!' you said and turned around, giving a snack to his chest "don't do that again!"

"Just wanted to suprise you,baby" his hand found their way back to your waist and pulled you closer to him "you had a hard day?I made you your favorite, and after we ate, we can put on some music, dance, you can open your presents" he rubbed your sides "hm?sounds good?"

And you did just that, you two ate the food he made, which was delicious by the way, and then moved to the living room. You went upstairs to get the present you made for him.

''so who starts?'' you asked as you sat down on the couch next to him

"you" he answered smiling

"alright,so it's nothing expensive,but I hope you'll still like it" you said and handed him the wrapped gift. He took it from you and carefully opened the gift, which was a photo album that you've made, you left lyrcs,photos, sweet messages for him in it, you wanted to give him something meaningful and figured he would like this, since it's not fully finished you two can fill it up with all the memories you make in the future. "You like it?'' your words held some excitement, and worry in them as you watched him flip through the pages,sometimes stopping to read what you've written down in there

"Like it?I love it,this is like the best gift i've ever gotten" he looked up to meet your gaze "I love it, princess" he pulled you into a tight hug, kissing your forehead "can't wait to put more pictures in it, we should just have one whole page for you in lingerie" he added with a cheeky smile which made you rolled your eyes

"okay,safe something for your birthday too" you said shaking your head

"oh, that's what i'll get for my birthday?"

"it's a suprise" you answered giggling

"Well,speaking of suprises, open yours now" he handed it to you "hope you like them" he added and watched you open it. You opened it excitedly.

He had gotten you the necklace from Pandora that you've mentioned you wanted, a bottle of your favorite perfume, he knows you need one because you've been complaining that you almost finished the bottle you've been using, there were some heart-shaped cookies he made for you.

"You made this?" you asked staring at the cookies

"Yeah, although Gen helped me with the decorating,but I made everything else"

"I love all of this so much" you wrapped your arms around him tightly "thank you so so much''

"there's one more thing" he pulled away from you and cleared his throat "so...i've been thinking about us, how I now sure that you're the woman that I want to marry, have kids with, move to some small town and live on a farm" he searched for something in his pocket and then he stood up and kneeled down before you ''(y/n), will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?" he asked, holding the shiny, gold ring in his fingers.

For moments you sat there shocked, you didn't know if you wanted to scream or cry from happiness, after seconds of staring at him you managed to nod your head and speak "yes,yes,yes,and yes"

"you got me worried for a second, sweetheart" he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed your hand.

"so that means I can call you my husband now?" You asked smiling

"yes,you can call me your husband, wife" he chuckled and pulled you into a kiss.

You were sure this was your best Valentine's day so far in your whole life.

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 12.)

Summary: the future might be uncertain but Melissa Schemmenti knows that she will be fine by your side.

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage, sex references, body images & family neglect?

WC: 7.48k.

tags: @lifeismomentsyoucannotunderstand @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @kukikatt @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic @jeridandridge @aliensuperst4rr

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11.

i know I said that this was the final chapter, but tomorrow is my b-day and i wanted to celebrate by posting something special. So more sweetening the deal coming soon hehe. 🤍

The white sheets are tangled, clinging to fevered figures, a testament to the slow-burning pleasure that still lingers in the bedroom like the scent of candle wax after the flame has been snuffed out. Somewhere between the haze of bliss and the weight of exhaustion, a hand moves, unhurried. Tracing the outline of a familiar shape. Fingers, roughened by time and habit, drag across soft flesh, pressing into the warmth of another body as if memorizing it, as if mapping the dips and curves like a cartographer tracing the edges of a long-lost land.

The touch is possessive but still reverent, a contradiction wrapped in each absentminded stroke. A thumb ghosts over the ridge of a hip bone, then up, tracing lazy circles into the plane of a stomach that rises and falls in a steady rhythm. A palm, broad and sure, flattens against bare skin, absorbing heat like sunbaked stone after dusk. There is no urgency now, no hunger, it is the kind of touch that lingers in the afterglow, an unspoken claim that needs no words.

Just the raw connection of two souls together.

Knuckles drag upward, slow as honey dripping from the edge of a spoon, pausing when they reach the valley between ribs, the gentle space where breath hums just beneath the surface. A sigh, barely there, escapes into the quiet. The fingers flex, then loosen again, curling as they ghost along the curve of a waist before retreating, settling in the hollow of an arm that welcomes them like a tide pulling the shore back into its embrace.

And then, as the weight shifts, a voice rough around the edges, still tasting of pleasure, breaks the silence.

“Did I wear you out, babygirl? Sorry, I couldn't help myself, you were so…fuck.”

The tone is low, featured with satisfaction despite the clear apology, curling into the tight space between you like smoke. It’s the kind of comforting voice that lingers, that seeps into the skin the way warmth does after a sun-drenched afternoon.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you let the camera in your hands do the talking.

The lens is small, compact, fitting snugly between your fingers as you angle it toward her. The yellow glow of the lamp casts golden hues across her skin, highlighting the mess of red waves sprawled against the pillows. She looks undone in the best way— green eyes half-lidded, plump lips swollen from where they’ve ghosted over yours too many times to count. There’s something lazy in the way she watches you, something indulgent, like she’s letting you have your fun because she enjoys the attention.

Melissa Schemmenti doesn’t ask for a spotlight, but damn if she doesn’t belong in one.

You lift the camera slightly, framing her with the precision of someone who knows this subject all too well. The freckles dusting her shoulders. The sharp cut of her jaw softened by the remnants of pleasure. The way her chest still moves with the rhythm of spent adrenaline.

Her redbrows lift, a flicker of amusement sparking in her orbs. “What, you takin’ pictures of me now, brat?”

You hum, the lens whirring softly as it focuses. “Always.”

She breathes through her nose, shaking her head like she’s exasperated, but the ghost of a smirk betrays her. She shifts slightly, the hand that had been resting against your skin now reaching for the bedsheet, tugging it up just enough to shield herself from view.

“Gonna sell these to the tabloids?” your girlfriend teases, holding back a yawn. “’Scandal: Young Woman Ruins Sugar Mommy’s Reputation with Risqué Bedroom Photos.’”

You laugh, thumb brushing over the camera’s shutter button but not pressing it—just watching, just soaking her in. “Ruins? I think they’d call it an upgrade.”

The redheaded woman scoffs, but you see the way her mouth twitches, the way she tips her head back slightly, exposing the long line of her throat like an offering. The same throat you had kissed, bitten, worshiped not so long ago. You could still hear those little whines and whimpers.

And then, quieter, like she’s letting herself be soft just for you. “That what I am to you? Just some scandal?”

Your heart clenches, but not in a bad way. In the way it always does when Melissa Schemmenti lets her guard down, when she peels back the layers of sharp humor and lets you see what’s underneath.

You lower the camera.

“No, baby,” you murmur, reaching out, fingertips grazing the back of her hand. “You’re my favorite thing to look at.”

She doesn’t say anything, but the way she squeezes your hand tells you enough.

Melissa lets the silence stretch between you, her hand still curled loosely around yours. Her eyes flick downward, and for a moment, she just looks.

The sheets barely cling to either of you, draped in careless folds, revealing more than they conceal. The glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows, accentuating the dips and curves of your bodies, the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to your skin. Her gaze lingers over the softness of your stomach, the marks she’s left behind on your collarbone, the way your chest rises and falls with each quiet breath.

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, the movement making the sheet slip lower on her own body. You watch as she drags her fingers across her own skin absentmindedly, tracing the outline of an old scar on her hip, then following the faint indent where your thigh had pressed into hers not long ago.

For someone who usually carries herself with a guarded confidence, there’s something unguarded about her now—something raw, like she’s allowing herself to be vulnerable in a way she rarely does.

The older woman whistles, eyes meeting yours again, something unreadable flickering there before she speaks.

“Y’know…” her voice is quieter now, like she’s speaking more to herself than to you. “Sometimes I forget how small you are.”

You arch a brow, shifting onto your side to face her. “Small?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Compared to me,” she murmurs, her fingers reaching out to brush over your hip, her thumb dragging lazily across the skin. “But then I see you like this, and it’s like… I dunno.” Her eyes flicker over you again, something thoughtful in them. “I remember just how much space you take up.”

You swallow, watching her. “That a bad thing?”

Her hand stills for a second, then presses a little more firmly against you.

“Nah,” she says, rough but certain. “It’s the best fuckin’ thing.”

And then, like she’s said too much, she shifts onto her back again, exhaling toward the ceiling. Her fingers find yours under the sheets, twining them loosely, grounding herself in the quiet.

Neither of you speak for a long moment. Just the sound of breathing, the warmth between you, the weight of something unspoken settling in the air.

Breaking the silence, you lift the camera, framing her in the viewfinder, and grin to yourself. “You look like a painting, you know that?” The words slip out lazily, affectionate, half-mumbled as you lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to her naked arm. Your lips brush over the warmth of her freckled skin, and for a second, you just breathe her in.

Melissa hums pleasantly.

You adjust the camera again, fingers tightening around it, preparing for another shot. But then, the redheaded woman shifts suddenly, rolling onto you with a fluidity that makes you gasp, the weight of her pressing you deeper into the mattress. The warmth of her skin, the scent of her still clinging to the sheets, the way her hair falls over both of you like a veil—it steals the breath right from your lungs.

“Whoa,” you squeal. “Love, what are you doing?”

“Shhh, pretty girl. Shh,” the redhead simply hushes you. “Just feel me. Us.”

Your grip on the camera falters. It slips from your fingers, tumbling onto the bed with a soft thud, but you barely notice because her lips are on yours. Slow, unrushed, savoring. She kisses like she has all the time in the world, like she’s trying to drink you in, one lingering brush of lips at a time.

And then she pulls back just enough to laugh against your mouth, her nose nudging yours in a teasing little rub, her breath still tasting of sleep and you.

“Fucker,” you murmur, grinning against her lips.

She smirks, shifting her weight off you, rolling onto her back with a satisfied sigh. Stretching her arms above her head, she tilts her chin up, letting the golden light catch the freckles dusted across her collarbones. “We should go out,” she muses. “The sun’s out. Feels like a waste lyin’ around all day.”

You hum in protest, not moving, just watching her. She glances at you from the corner of her eye, amused, before exhaling and pulling herself up.

“Don’t go for too long,” you sigh quietly. “I can’t stay away from you for more than one second.”

“I won’t, baby,” she promises you.

And just like a blink of an eye, Melissa Schemmenti disappears into the bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she nudges it closed.

The mirror is fogged at the edges from the quick shower she took, but the reflection staring back at her is painfully clear. She steps closer, bare feet cool against the tile, hands bracing against the sink as she lets her gaze drift downward.

Her stomach softens as she exhales, the gentle curve of it folding slightly as she leans forward. Her fingers twitch before they reach out, hesitantly grazing the loose skin just above her navel, the place where time and life and age have left their mark. She presses, feeling the give beneath her fingertips, the way it doesn’t snap back like it used to.

Olive eyes flicker upward, meeting her own in the mirror.

She trails her hand higher, over the faint stretch marks curving along the sides of her breasts, over the skin that isn’t quite as smooth as it once was. She cups one gently, thumb brushing over the slight indentations, over the places where her body has changed in ways she never asked for, in ways she’s spent years pretending not to notice.

She hears his voice in her head before she can stop it.

Jesus, Melissa, you gonna do something about that?

No wonder you always keep the lights off during sex. How am I supposed to fuck someone disgusting like you?

What the hell happened to you?

Her throat tightens, a sharp inhale cutting through the silence. The woman presses her palms flat against the counter, trying to steady herself, but the weight of those words clings to her ribs, squeezing like a vice.

She blinks rapidly, but the sting behind her eyes doesn’t go away.

So she does what she always does. She breathes through it. She squares her shoulders. She tells herself it doesn’t matter.

But when the first tear slips down her cheek, she doesn’t wipe it away.

The tear falls slowly, a delicate trail carving a path down her cheek, and as it disappears, another one follows, unbidden, as if it knows there is something buried deeper, something that has yet to be acknowledged.

Melissa’s gaze lingers on her reflection, but it starts to blur, the edges softening as memories creep in, unwanted but insistent.

That night. The one she’s never spoken of. Not to Teresa, not to Barbara, not even Pearl.

Her fingers tremble against the cold porcelain of the sink as the memory unfurls like a silent, violent wave—distant but never truly gone. The silence of their house after everything, when the world outside felt like it was holding its breath. She remembers the weight in her stomach, the odd heaviness that made her think something was different, something had changed inside her. The nausea had been subtle at first, a persistent reminder of something new taking root.

But she never told Joe.

She remembers the heat of the shower that night, the water falling in streams down her back, warm against her skin. She remembers how she had pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the way her body was shifting, making space for something she hadn’t yet fully processed. She never told him about the quiet moments when she had caught herself dreaming of the future—a small, fragile future, but hers nonetheless.

The cramp came suddenly, sharp, ripping through her like lightning. She had stumbled, hand bracing against the cold tile wall for support, her chest tightening with something that felt like panic, but she had told herself it was nothing. It was nothing.

But it wasn’t.

Melissa had bled. More than she had expected, more than she had imagined. Until her legs had given out, and she had collapsed onto the bathroom floor screaming. The pain had been unbearable, but it wasn’t just the physical ache. It was the weight of the secret she hadn’t shared with him, the secret that now felt like a betrayal.

She never told him. She couldn’t. Not then, not after everything else. She couldn’t bear to see the pity in his eyes, couldn’t bear to be reminded of how badly they had drifted apart, how he had already begun to turn away from her before she ever had the chance to speak.

He never knew she was pregnant.

The thought twists in her chest, sharp like glass. She presses her hands to her soft stomach, but the ache isn’t physical anymore. It’s deeper, something hollow and bruised, something she’s tried to fill with years of anger and sarcasm and distractions.

Another tear falls, and this time, she doesn’t try to stop it. She lets it run freely, mingling with the others, collecting at the curve of her jaw before dripping onto her bare chest.

She had never mourned it. Not properly. Not with anyone.

Melissa Schemmenti had always been too strong to break, or at least, that’s what she had told herself. But right now, in the silence of the bathroom, with nothing but the hum of the fan overhead and the soft sobs that she couldn’t hold in anymore, it feels like she’s been breaking for years and no one had ever seen it.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just holding herself, just letting the quiet grief wash over her. The memory of that night lingers in the corners of her mind, an echo of something lost, and for the first time, she allows herself to grieve it. To grieve what could have been.

And as the sobs quiet down, she stares at her reflection once more, the tears still streaking her face, and whispers, barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

But there’s no one there to hear it.

The quiet hum of the fan in the bathroom feels almost deafening now, the sound mixing with the faint rhythm of her own breath. Her tears have slowed, leaving her face flushed and her okigg eyes swollen from the weight of them. But even in the emptiness of the bathroom, there’s still something pulling her—something far gentler than the anger or pain that has been her constant companion for so long.

The forty-five year old exhales a shaky breath and wipes the remnants of her tears from her cheeks, swiping at her face with the back of her hand.

As her gaze drifts back to her reflection, something soft flickers in her chest, the pull of it undeniable. Her.

The thought of you comes to her like a warm, steady breath, an anchor in the chaotic tide of emotions.

Melissa had never expected this. To feel seen. To feel wanted. But you had given that to her in ways she never could have imagined, soft words and touches that never felt too much, never felt like a demand. You had accepted her, scars and all, with no questions, no judgments.

She can’t help but smile faintly at the memory of your laughter, the way your eyes light up whenever you look at her, even when she feels unworthy of it.

Then she hears it.

A soft, affectionate call, carrying through the thin walls of the bathroom, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

“Lissa…”

Her name, spoken with such tenderness, carries a weight of its own. It’s the way you always say it—like it’s a secret shared between the two of you, a word that holds so much more than just her name.

She closes her eyes for a moment, feeling the heat of your affection reach her, even from across the room.

And in that moment, she knows. She knows that this—you—is the part of her life she has been waiting for, the part she never thought she deserved, but you had given her anyway. You had pulled her from the ruins of her past, shown her the parts of herself she had locked away for so long, and wrapped her in a love she didn’t know how to accept, but that she was learning to embrace.

Your girlfriend takes a deep breath, steadying herself, and runs her fingers through her damp hair, wiping away the last remnants of her tears.

“Yeah, baby?” she calls back, her voice softer than before, more open, more vulnerable than she’s let herself be in a long time.

“Can you please come here?” you respond again, and she can hear the affection laced in every syllable. It’s the kind of sound that feels like a promise, like you’ve carved a space for her in your world, a space that’s hers and hers alone.

The moment the bathroom door creaks open, Melissa’s attention snaps toward the soft rustle of fabric. She doesn’t immediately register the quiet sigh that follows, but then she sees you—standing just outside the doorway, eyes wide and focused on something in your hands. Your brow furrows, the slight frustration evident as you tug at the straps of your bra, trying to adjust it, but it’s clear the task is not going as smoothly as you’d hoped.

Her heart catches in her chest, the vulnerability of the moment not lost on her. You’re struggling with something so simple, so small, and yet, there’s something endearing about it. She watches the way your hands move, your fingers trembling slightly as you try again, biting your lip in concentration.

The green eyed woman doesn’t know why it affects her so deeply—maybe it’s the way you seem so effortlessly beautiful even in these small moments, or maybe it’s the way your actions feel like a reflection of the trust you’ve placed in her. Either way, her chest tightens, and she steps forward without thinking, her own emotions still raw but now focused entirely on you.

“Need some help?” her voice is softer than before, carrying a gentle edge of care as she comes closer.

You don’t say anything right away, but the way your eyes flick up to meet hers, hesitant, makes her heart ache. It’s like you’re not used to asking for help, like you’re trying to handle everything on your own.

With a soft giggle, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours as she takes the bra from your hands, a quiet tenderness in her touch.

“Let me,” your sweet girlfriend murmurs, guiding your hands away.

Her movements are careful, unhurried as she helps you, the way she slides the straps over your shoulders with a quiet gentleness making your breath catch in your throat. There’s nothing rushed about it, no haste, no pressure. Just the simple act of caring for you, in a way that makes you feel safe.

As she fastens the hooks at the back, she brushes a kiss against your shoulder. The simple act makes you feel seen, cared for, like she’s truly with you, in this moment, in every imperfect, messy part of it.

“Better?” she asks, her breath warm against your ear, and when you nod, a smile breaks across her face. It’s small, but it reaches her eyes—eyes that are soft, full of something deeper than just affection. It’s understanding.

“Mmm,” you nodded, feeling a bit shy, but Melissa can hear the gratitude in it, the quiet relief that you never have to do this alone again.

“Good. Now if you don’t mind, m’ gonna relax for a bit.”

The Schemmenti hernines moves toward the couch with a severe slowness, her body still warm from the previous activities. The air in the bedroom cool against her bare form. She doesn’t rush; there’s a languid grace to her movements, like the world could wait for her. She settles into the cushions, the softness beneath her figure almost making her feel like she could disappear into the fabric, into the quiet hum of the room. She leans back, a cigarette between her fingers, the tip glowing softly as she inhales deeply, the smoke swirling around her like a ghost of something forgotten.

Her body, fully exposed to the space around her, seems so effortlessly at ease, as though vulnerability has become a part of her that she’s finally learned to wear without shame.

You watch her for a moment, your gaze tracing the curve of her shoulders, the line of her spine as Melissa leans back, cigarette smoke rising around her like a halo. The way the light falls across her skin, casting shadows in all the right places. It’s art in its purest form. You feel a sudden rush of emotion, a deep need to capture her, to freeze this moment before it slips away into something more ordinary.

“Mel,” you start, a softness to your voice that makes her eyes flicker toward you, her gaze meeting yours with an unspoken curiosity.

She raises an eyebrow, plump lips curling around the cigarette. “What now?”

“Can I… Can I photograph you?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, delicate, tentative. She blinks slowly, the smoke curling around her like an answer. There’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, something fleeting and vulnerable before it’s replaced by acceptance.

“Uh. Sure,” she says quietly, the word slipping out with a surprising tenderness.

You move carefully, as though approaching something sacred, your camera warm in your hands, the tool to capture what she offers. Your fingers tremble slightly as you raise it to your eye, framing her figure. Melissa sits still, almost too still, as if she’s unsure of what to do with the sudden attention.

You guide her gently, urging her with soft words, coaxing her into small shifts of movement. “Look to the side,” you plea, and she does, her gaze unfocusing, distant, lost in the quiet of the room. The light catches the curve of her chest, the softness of her stomach, the way her skin seems to glow even in its imperfections. She is both fierce and delicate, all at once.

“Just like that, sweet girl,” you praise. “So good.”

She blushes.

You capture the moment, the slow exhale of breath, the way her skin seems to shimmer in the soft light. Every click of the shutter feels like a step deeper into her, into the vulnerability she offers so freely, so openly now.

You direct her again, this time guiding her to lift her arm, the motion slow and languid as she reaches toward the back of the couch, her body arching just slightly, the tension in her muscles visible but beautiful. Her skin stretches, soft folds and gentle curves that you want to hold in your hands, to memorize.

“Turn your head more?” you ask, and she does, her hair falling just so, the strands catching the light like liquid gold.

The next shot is a closer one, the camera resting on the curve of her waist, the delicate line of her ribs, the way the light dances across the freckles on her shoulder. The smoke from her cigarette twirls in the air, swirling with the softness of the moment, making everything feel dreamlike, as if the world around you has paused, holding its breath.

You focus on the details now. The way the ash of the cigarette trembles at the tip, ready to fall. The curve of her lips, barely upturned in a smile. The way she shifts slightly, a subtle movement that makes her seem so alive, so human.

Each shot, each click of the shutter, feels like you’re preserving a memory. Not just her body, but the essence of her—raw, unapologetic, and yet so effortlessly tender in this space between you.

You take a step back, looking at her through the lens one final time, capturing the image in your mind even before the photograph is developed.

Melissa Ann Catarina Schemmenti is art in its truest form.

Flawed. Naked. Unafraid.

You sigh quietly, gazing at the picture. “Holy shit. Babe, you are so beautiful.”

Melissa barely has time to react before you’re tugging her forward, your hands warm and insistent against her. She lets herself be pulled, the cigarette slipping from her fingers into an ashtray, forgotten in the wake of your touch.

“Where should we go?” you prompted, voice filled with something light, something playful. Your arms wrap around her, your body pressed close, and she can’t help but let out a small, breathy laugh.

She wants to say nowhere. She wants to say right here, because there is something about the way you hold her, the way you look at her, that makes the world outside feel so unimportant. But then she sees the way your eyes shine with anticipation, with the thrill of movement, of escape, and she sighs, knowing there’s no saying no to you.

“The market,” the Sicilian murmurs, lips brushing against your temple. “Or the beach. Anywhere you want, amore.”

“Anywhere?” you press your nose against hers.

“Mmm. Anywhere, beautiful.”

Now, the world rushes past in a blur of golden light and warm air.

Melissa grips the handlebars of the Vespa, the engine humming beneath her, the cobblestone streets of Italy rolling out ahead in uneven, beautiful chaos. The buildings blur into flashes of terracotta and pale blue, laundry swaying from the balconies above as if waving them along. The scent of espresso and fresh bread lingers in the environment, mixing with the salt of the sea that isn’t far now.

And then there’s you with your arms wrapped tight around her waist, your body pressed against her back. She can feel the way you laugh against her, the sound vibrating through her ribs like music. Your chin rests on her shoulder, and she catches glimpses of your smile in her peripheral vision, wide and unrestrained, the kind that makes her chest ache in the best way.

She lets one hand briefly slip from the handlebar to rest atop yours, squeezing gently, grounding herself in the warmth of your touch.

The wind catches your hair, and you let out a delighted gasp, gripping her tighter.

“Faster, Mel!” you call out over the roar of the engine, full of reckless joy.

Melissa just chuckles, shaking her head but giving in anyway, twisting the throttle, making the Vespa leap forward.

The world blurs faster now, the streets giving way to open roads, the city melting into the promise of the sea.

The Vespa slows to a stop near a sun-drenched piazza, where the sound of distant waves mingles with the lively hum of conversation. The redheaded woman kills the engine, her hands steady on the handlebars for a moment before she feels you slip off the back. Your warmth leaves her, but then your fingers find hers, lacing together effortlessly as you tug her along, feet light against the cobblestone.

Hand in hand, you wander through the square, past market stalls brimming with ripe peaches and sun-warmed tomatoes, past old men playing cards beneath striped umbrellas. The day is golden, spilling over rooftops and onto your skin, and your girlfriend feels it seeping into her bones, softening something deep inside her.

Then it happens.

A small, wobbly child, no older than two, stumbles toward you with an excited squeal, hands outstretched as if drawn to you by some unseen force. The mother. Young, exhausted, but smiling—hurries after, but you’ve already crouched down, hands on your knees, meeting the baby’s wide-eyed delight with your own.

“Hey, little one,” you coo, your fingers reaching out as the child clumsily grasps at them. “You are a curious one, aren’t ya?”

Melissa simply watches from afar, her heart slowing, thickening.

You let the baby grip your fingers, guiding her in a tiny, unsteady spin, both of you giggling when she nearly topples. The mother laughs, thanking you, but you’re too caught up in the moment, wiggling your nose at the child, sticking out your tongue, making the little girl burst into bright, bubbling laughter.

She swallows hard.

It’s not just that you’re good with kids. It’s not just that you’re patient, playful, effortlessly gentle.

It’s the way you look at the child. Like she’s something precious, something to be cherished. Like you don’t see a burden but a gift.

The Schemmenti woman exhales slowly, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag.

She thinks about things she rarely lets herself think about.

She thinks about how, for most of her life, she never let herself want this. Not really. Not after Joe, not after everything. She had buried that part of herself deep, convinced that she wasn’t meant for it. That no one would ever look at her and see a future like that.

But now.

She looks at you, the way your eyes crinkle at the corners, the way you let the baby grasp at your fingers like she’s the most important thing in the world.

She pictures you with a child. Not just any child. Hers.

Yours.

A life that looks nothing like the past. A love that builds instead of breaks.

Melissa’s throat tightens, her chest aching in a way she can’t quite name.

The baby squeals again before her mother scoops her up, offering you a grateful smile before disappearing into the crowd. You stand, brushing off your knees, turning back to your girlfriend with a grin.

“She was so cute, huh?” you say, nudging her playfully.

The older woman doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, she lifts a hand to your face, brushing her knuckles against your cheek with a tenderness that catches even her off guard.

You blink up at her, surprised, but you don’t pull away. Her other hand finds your waist, fingers pressing lightly into your skin, grounding herself.

“Yeah, she was.”

Melissa keeps her hand on your waist, her gaze fixed on you, but her mind drifts to places it’s rarely allowed to go. The laughter of the baby lingers in her ears, soft but echoing, a melody that pulls her deeper into the daydream.

She imagines you and her, walking down a sunlit street with a stroller between you, a small, content child nestled inside. She pictures you laughing at something silly the child does, your eyes bright, filled with that same warmth she feels now. Your hand would be on the stroller’s handle, your other hand likely brushing through the child’s messy hair as you coo softly to them.

In this scenario, it’s natural. It doesn’t feel like a dream, but a truth that’s just waiting to happen. It’s easy, effortless, like the two of you were always meant to find your way here. The baby would be yours, and the love between the three of you would fill every room in every house, every corner, every dark moment.

But then, she shifts her thought just a bit further, and she can see it clearer. Pearl.

She imagines Pearl, the woman who raised her, holding the baby in her arms, sitting in her faded armchair with the child nestled against her chest. The child, still in that phase of babbling, would look up at the eldest with wide, curious eyes, calling out the one word that would wrap everything up in a bow:

“Nonna.”

Nonna.

The word echoes in Melissa’s chest. She feels it like a weight, like a treasure. The softness in Pearl’s eyes, the way she would grin, utterly taken with the baby. She could see her rocking slowly, humming a lullaby under her breath—one that she had hummed for Melissa herself as a child. She can almost hear it, the words slipping softly into the air, woven with love and the kind of tenderness only a grandmother can give.

She sees the retired housekeeper smiling down at the baby, smoothing a hand over their little head, murmuring about how precious they are, how lucky they are to have found a family like this. A family that’s been broken, rebuilt, and now—finally—complete.

And in this daydream, you girlfriend imagines herself standing beside Pearl, holding your hand, watching the two of them together. There’s a sense of peace she’s never allowed herself to believe in. For so long, Melissa had told herself that this kind of happiness wasn’t meant for her. But now, with you, with the possibility of this, she can see it clearly.

The way Pearl would look at her, too, proud, content, seeing her with a child in her arms. The child of the woman she raised and knowing that this is what she always dreamed for her.

Family.

The green eyed woman blinks, the quiet swell of emotion taking her by surprise. She tightens her grip on your waist, and you glance up at her, noticing the distant look in her eyes.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice cutting through the fog of her thoughts. “What’s on your mind?”

She meets your gaze, her heart beating a little faster, her chest tight with something both scary and wonderful. She doesn’t say anything at first, letting the warmth between the two of you hang in the air.

And then, she just smiles, a little uncertain, but completely there.

“I’m just… thinking about the future.”

The words feel strange, like she’s letting go of something heavy, but the weight of it doesn’t feel so bad anymore.

Your fingers tighten around hers, and for the first time, she lets herself imagine it—really imagine it. A future with you. A future where Pearl gets to have a grandchild.

The daydream doesn’t end when Melissa blinks back to reality. It lingers, weaving itself into her soul, refusing to let go.

She imagines nighttime.

She pictures your bedroom, the lamplight casting shadows against the walls, the gentle hum of the city outside barely audible over the quiet giggles coming from the gigantic bed.

Your bed.

Her wife is there. Her wife. The words settle into her chest like something sacred, something she never thought she’d deserve. You’re propped up against the pillows, your hair a little messy, your expression sleepy but content. And in your arms, cradled against your chest, is your baby.

Your tiny Schemmenti.

Melissa sees herself in the vision, slipping into bed after changing into one of her old, soft t-shirts, her red hair slightly damp from the shower. She watches as she reaches for the baby, gently, carefully, her large hands engulfing the tiny, warm body. The baby, so chubby, so soft, with round cheeks and heavy little limbs immediately clings to her, their small fingers grasping at the fabric of her shirt, nuzzling into her.

The redheaded woman can feel the weight of them in her arms, the warmth of their skin against hers, and the way they squirm just enough to get comfortable before settling. She pictures herself making a silly face, puffing out her cheeks, crossing her eyes just to see the way the baby bursts into laughter, all gummy and bright.

You’re laughing too, eyes filled with nothing but love as you watch her. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, but you’re smiling, tilting your head as Melissa wiggles her nose against the baby’s cheek, making them giggle even more.

Then, there’s another presence—a warmth that makes the entire scene feel even fuller.

Pearl. Again.

She’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, watching with that deep, knowing smile of hers. She’s older now, but her eyes hold the same pride, the same unwavering love that she’s had for Melissa since the beginning.

She sees her shake her head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Never thought I’d see the day,” Pearl sobs with emotion.

Melissa looks up from where she’s pressing soft kisses against the baby’s plump cheeks, her lips still curved in a gentle smile. “Yeah?” she says, her voice teasing, but there’s something vulnerable beneath it.

The woman who raised her steps forward, reaching out to brush her fingers through her auburn hair in that same way she did when your wife was just a little girl. “You deserve this, honey,” she says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And suddenly, Melissa Schemmenti feels it.

All of it.

The weight of love—real love—settling deep into her bones, filling all the spaces she once thought were empty forever. The love from you, from the baby in her arms, from Pearl. It’s a kind of love that she never thought she was worthy of, not after everything, not after Joe, not after years of believing she was too damaged, too broken.

She blinks rapidly, but it’s no use. The tears come anyway, slipping down her freckled cheeks, catching in the corners of her mouth. She lets out a shaky breath, tightening her hold on the baby, pressing them closer, like if she holds them tight enough, she can keep this moment forever.

You shift beside her, brushing her hair back, thumb swiping gently at her tears. “Oh, baby,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re gonna make me cry too.”

Melissa lets out a watery laugh, sniffling as the baby shifts in her arms, looking up at her with wide, curious eyes. Their tiny fingers reach for her face, patting at her cheek, and she catches their hand, pressing a soft kiss to their palm.

Pearl is still there, watching, her eyes glistening. “Told you,” she says again, shaking her head with a smile.

Your wife lets out another breath, her heart so full that it almost hurts.

For the first time in her life, she believes it.

She deserves this.

She deserves love.

Her chest tightens as the warmth of the vision lingers, the imagined weight of the baby still present in her arms, but then like a candle flickering in the wind, her mind drifts elsewhere.

To her.

Teresa Schemmenti.

Her mother. The woman who gave birth to her.

Melissa gasps, suddenly feeling the weight of something else pressing against her ribs.

She doesn’t think of her often. Not really. At least, she tries not to.

But here, in Italy, with the scent of home in the air, with the sun warming her skin and the echoes of children’s laughter in the distance. She justs can’t help it.

The older woman thinks about the last time she saw her mother, the way the woman sat in that room, her eyes distant, unfocused. A ghost of who she once was.

The dementia had taken so much.

It had taken the sharp-witted, steel-spined woman who once ruled the Schemmenti household with a glare alone. It had taken the mother who, despite her flaws, had always been there. Present, even in silence.

And now? Now, there were moments where Teresa didn’t even recognize her own daughter.

Melissa closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply.

She remembers the first time it happened. walking into the care facility when John Antony called her earlier, greeting Teresa with her usual smirk, only to be met with a confused stare.

“Who the hell are you?! Where are my kids? Can you please help me?”

The words had knocked the breath out of her.

She had frozen, standing there like a goddamn statue, waiting—hoping— that maybe her mother’s eyes would clear, that recognition would bloom across her face.

It never did.

She had nodded, muttered something about checking in, and left before the lump in her throat could choke her.

And now, sitting here in the piazza, hand in yours, she wonders..will her mother ever know?

Will she ever know about you? About the life Melissa is building? About the woman she loves, the future she wants?

Will she ever know that Melissa is happy, that she made it, despite everything?

Or will she simply fade further and further away, lost to the disease, to time, until nothing remains but a name on a plaque and a past no one remembers?

Your girlfriend swallows hard, staring down at her free hand. She flexes her fingers, studies the lines in her palm.

Then, suddenly, your fingers are there. Warm, gentle, sliding between hers, grounding her back to the present.

Melissa blinks, looking up at you. Your brows are furrowed, concern evident in your eyes.

“Sweet girl?” your tone is soft. “You okay?”

You feel a squeeze in your hand.

The redheaded woman doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she just looks at you, really looks at you. At the way the sun catches in your hair. At the kindness in your eyes. At the love, the certainty that sits so easily in your expression, like you never once doubted your place at her side.

And just like that, the heaviness eases.

Not completely.

But enough.

She squeezes your hand again, and this time, she manages a small smile.

“Yeah,” Melissa reassured you. “I’m okay.”

After some minutes, your girlfriend swallows the lump in her throat, her grip on your hand tightening. The weight of her thoughts lingers, pressing down on her chest like a stone she can’t shake off. She looks at you again, at the way your fingers rest so easily in hers, at the warmth of your presence beside her. She blinks slowly, the decision settling in her bones before she even finds the words.

“I wanna see her.”

You frown, tilting your head slightly. “Who?”

“My mom.”

“Oh.”

Melissa nods, her jaw clenching for a second before she forces herself to relax. “Yeah.” She looks down at your joined hands, tracing circles over your knuckles absentmindedly. “It’s been… a while. I don’t even know if she’d remember me.” Her voice drops slightly, something fragile threading through it. “But I think I need to try.”

You don’t speak right away, and for a moment, she worries—worries that you’ll tell her it’s too late, that Teresa Schemmenti is too far gone, that she’s only setting herself up for disappointment.

But then you squeeze her hand, your thumb brushing over her skin in that way that always calms her.

“I think that’s a good idea, Mel.” Your voice is gentle, sure. “I think she’d be happy to see you.”

Melissa huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know about happy. She was never too fond of me. Just of my siblings.”

“She’s your mother,” you remind her softly. “And you’re her daughter. Even if she doesn’t remember everything, maybe some part of her still knows.”

The green eyed woman swallows again, looking away for a second. “I just…” she sighed, rubbing at her temple. “I spent so long feeling like I wasn’t enough for her. Like I wasn’t what she wanted. And now, she might not even know me. Feels like a cruel joke.”

You shift closer, your free hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Maybe it’s not about what she remembers,” you say softly. “Maybe it’s about what you need. If you want to see her, if you want to talk to her, then that’s enough of a reason to go.”

Melissa studies you, her chest tightening for an entirely different reason now.

You make it sound so simple.

And maybe, in a way, it is.

She sighs again, nodding slowly. “Yeah.” She glances toward the horizon, where the sun is starting to dip, casting everything in a golden hue. “I think I need to do this.”

You smile. “Then we’ll go.”

Melissa looks back at you.

“We?” she echoes, arching an eyebrow.

You nudge her playfully. “Of course we. You think I’m letting you do this alone?”

Melissa chuckles. “Didn’t think you’d wanna waste your time in some nursing home or a boring mansion, babe.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn’t fade. “Your time isn’t a waste to me.”

She gulps, looking at you for a long moment before she exhales again, softer this time.

“Guess we got a trip back to Philly to make then,”she brings your hand to her lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

And for the first time in a long while, the thought of seeing her mother doesn’t feel as terrifying.

[assortedcriminality]

snippet #3

Contains: blood (not much), knives, violence

Civilian’s eyes fluttered open, their vision intensely blurry. Blinking a few times to clear it up and wincing from a sharp pain in their temple, they raised their head. Instantly they startled, letting out a yelp as a figure came into focus across from them—staring right at their face.

“Awake at last,” the person drawled, tapping their fingers on the table-the table? 

“W-wh…” words failed Civilian immediately, their mouth refusing to cooperate. Their brain hadn’t yet caught up with their surroundings, but they were pretty sure they were sitting up. Why would they be sitting up? Who was the person on the other side of the table? Where-

“I’m sure you have quite a few questions.” The stranger’s voice interrupted their train of thought. “But I have some rather more pressing ones for you as well.”

Another wave of hurt came from Civilian’s head. They reached up a hand to steady themself, ignoring the stranger, but felt something…wet. With some hesitance, they took it away. It was covered in blood.

“I’m sorry about that,” the person said in a tone that didn’t sound very apologetic. “My employee was a little rough. But it was a necessary precaution, as I’m sure you’ll soon understand.”

Civilian tried to respond, to ask what was going on, but their voice wouldn’t cooperate. All that came out was a dry, rasping cough that shook their whole body. 

“I’ll give you a minute to recover,” said the stranger. They shifted through a pile of papers on their side of the table that Civilian hadn’t noticed before. Their pen jotted a few quick notes down on one of the sheets while Civilian took a deep breath, trying their best to ground themself. They couldn’t panic. They had to stay focused. If they couldn’t figure out what was happening and didn’t manage to escape on their own… well, Lover had insisted on them having that tracker in their phone.

“Wh-where am I?” They finally managed. Their voice was hoarse, as if it hadn’t been used in months. Hell, they didn’t know how long they’d been out. It was possible. Unlikely, sure, but possible. God, I really, really, really hope not.

The stranger smiled and wrote something on their page. “The Agency, of course.”

Civilian blinked. “The-the Agency? Like… the hero agency. For people with actual superpowers? What?”

“Most people with actual superpowers, as you say,” the stranger corrected. “There are always those who slip through our fingers and dedicate themselves to villainy. That’s what I’ve brought you here to discuss.”

Their head pounded. “Who are you?”

The stranger’s grin widened. “Why, I’m Superhero. I thought that was quite obvious.”

“S-Superhero?” This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. They’d eaten spicy food last night and were having a bad dream, that’s it. Why would Superhero, of all people, kidnap them? They weren’t a hero, not even a sidekick. Sure they had powers, but the Agency only took first and secondary powered individuals. Civilian’s tertiary power, the ability to calm others with their singing, was good for helping Lover relax after a long day at work, but not so much for fighting crime. 

“Yes. Now then, Civilian, I wanted to ask you something…” Superhero flipped through a file, pulling out a photograph. “Do you know who this is?”

Civilian raised an eyebrow, wincing when they found it hurt to do so. Of course they knew who it was. The picture was of Supervillain, the most notorious criminal in the city. They had evaded the heroes for years, stealing from every important figure in range and causing destruction with their powers of invulnerability and telekinesis. In the photo, they had their hands raised, floating in front of a smoking skyscraper. A team of heroes were surrounding them from all angles, but they wore a confident smirk, as if they knew something no one else did. “That’s Supervillain.”

“Indeed. Now—“ Supervillain took another photo from their folder and slid it across the table. “I believe you know this person?”

Civilian started. The image was of Lover, wearing a suit in a restaurant. They appeared to be meeting with a business partner, as they often did. “Why do you-“ 

“Answer the question, Civilian,” the hero interrupted. “Do you or do you not know this person?”

“I-I do,” they stammered. What did Lover have to do with this, whatever ‘this’ was? “But-“

“Everything will become clear in just a moment.” Superhero withdrew the photo and placed it back in the file. “You and this person, Lover, have been dating for over three years. Is that correct?”

Civilian stared at them. “I…yes. That’s right.”

“And you work as a performer?”

“Yes. I’m a-a singer.”

The crimefighter scribbled something and glanced down at a paper. “And Lover, they’re in business?”

“Real estate,” they said numbly. “But why-“

“All in due time,” Superhero said without looking up. “Real estate,” they chuckled quietly, giving no explanation. “And you met them when?”

Civilian shifted in their chair. “A little under four years ago. I was doing a show at a restaurant. They came up after, gave me a tip, complimented my voice…”

“And you lived happily ever after,” Superhero finished for them, flipping through a few more pages. “You live together, yes? An apartment building off 57th?”

“How do you-“ 

“Nice apartment for a real estate mogul, isn’t it?” they cut in. “Penthouse and everything?”

“They work for a very successful-“

Superhero closed the file with a pronounced slam. Their expression was incomprehensible. “You want to know why you’re here, Civilian?”

Civilian, caught off guard, nodded. 

The hero folded their hands on the table. “I want information on Supervillain.”

Their head was spinning. This was all so confusing, so wrong. None of it made any sense. Why would Superhero kidnap them—violently, it seemed—and think they knew any more about Supervillain than the Agency? “I don’t know why you think I can help you. I don’t know anything about them. Please, I don’t know what you did to me, but just leave me alone.”

Superhero tilted their head to the side, a pitying expression forming on their face. “I know you know, Civilian. Don’t make me do something I don’t want to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” they snapped, standing up. They were done with this. Clearly, Superhero wasn’t the person everyone thought they were, all shiny and moral, placed on a pedestal by the whole city. “But I don’t want to hear it.” They stormed over to the door and were about to throw it open when their body froze against their will, hands slamming to their sides. 

“Sit,” Superhero said. 

Civilian’s eyes widened in horror as their legs began to move back towards the chair of their own volition. They’d never seen Superhero’s powers used before, never imagined how terrifying it could be. The ability to control others with their mind, used to easily dispatch criminals without any need for bloodshed. They struggled to no avail as their hand reached to pull out their chair. Superhero’s face was full of mock disappointment. 

“Now then,” the hero said as Civilian was forced to sit down again. “Let’s continue, shall we? We were talking about Supervillain, weren’t we?”

Civilian couldn’t speak. They couldn’t move. They were trapped in their own body, unable to do anything but move their eyes. 

“Please don’t continue your naive stubbornness,” they sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for it. Tell me what you know. This is your last chance.”

“I don’t know anything,” were the words that shot out immediately, before Civilian even realized they could talk again. “Please believe me, I don’t know-“

“Civilian, dear.” Superhero shook their head. “I’m sorry, I just can’t believe you when I know you’re dating Supervillain.”

Their breathing stopped. “What?”

“Supervillain, Lover…” the hero shrugged. “One and the same. I mean, it all seems quite obvious now. I simply can’t trust that you didn’t know.”

A laugh burbled up in Civilian’s throat. “You can’t be serious. Lover, a master criminal? That’s ridiculous. You have the wrong person. Lover doesn’t even have powers.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve never noticed anything off about them? Like the way they never seem to get injured, even everyday things like paper cuts and little bruises?” they asked skeptically.

“They’re just-just lucky, I guess.” Come on. Anyone could avoid injury just by being careful. And besides, just because Civilian had never seen them get hurt doesn’t mean they never had been. 

Superhero’s eyebrows rose. “Lucky. All right, how about the way they’re gone from dusk to dawn with no real explanation? Or how we’ve witnessed them meeting with Villain, a known criminal, under the guise of making a real estate deal?”

Civilian shook their head vehemently. “No. No. No. You’re wrong. You’re wrong. It’s all just a misunderstanding. They’re not like that. They would never break the law like that, put people in danger.” Their voice rose. “You don’t know them.”

The hero let out a snarl, their face contorting, rising half out of their chair. “You know something. I know you do. You will tell me.”

“I don’t know anything!” Civilian yelled, standing up again. Superhero seemed to have forgotten to keep controlling them. “Leave me alone!”

Superhero rose to their full height, sliding their chair back. Their expression was murderous. They put a hand on the edge of the table and slammed it to the left, making it crash into the wall. Civilian let out a yelp, hastily stumbling backward as Superhero approached.

“St-stay away from me,” Civilian said, hands outstretched. Their back hit the wall. Before they could move, Superhero’s hand smashed into the brick beside their head. With their other, they pulled a knife from their belt. Civilian froze, terrified eyes meeting the hero’s furious ones.

“You do know. You know everything. And I will drag it out of you however I need to,” they growled. “I don’t even need this knife, though it would be fun. I could make you jump out of the window. I could make you stab yourself in the heart. So I suggest you tell me what I want to know. Now.”

Tears began to slide down Civilian’s face. “Lover isn’t Supervillain, I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t know—“

Superhero’s knife slashed up in a flash of silver, cutting a bold line across their cheek. They cried out, more tears mingling with the blood that immediately began to stream down their chin in a thin, steady line. 

“How dare you,” they demanded, managing to glare the supposed hero down through their pain. “Everyone parades you around, saying how amazing and great you are, and here you are torturing me.”

A sinister smile formed on Superhero’s face. They angled their knife on their captive’s shoulder, starting to slowly dig in with the tip. Civilian bit their lip, determined to be defiant. “No one ever needs to know. Give me what I want, and I’ll stop. Simple as that.”

“I…” they trailed off, gasping as Superhero dug their blade deeper into their shoulder. “Don’t know… anything.”

“You lying bi—“

BOOM. The door fell flat on the wooden floor, sending up a cloud of dust. Bricks clattered to the ground, loosened by the force. Superhero whirled around, knife still held tightly in their fist. A tall figure stepped into the light, clad in a dark gray supersuit and a black mask that covered their features. A mask anyone in the city would recognize. 

“No,” Civilian breathed, forgetting their pain.

“Supervillain,” Superhero drawled. In a flash, they turned momentarily to seize Civilian’s wrist and pull them forward. They were too frozen to struggle as the hero’s arm wrapped around their waist and the knife was placed on their pulse point, forcing their chin up. “How nice of you to join us.”

Civilian held back a sob as Supervillain’s masked gaze slid to them. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. They hadn’t believed it for a second, not through the hero’s insistence. They had never doubted their partner, not ever. They’d never had a reason to. But now…

“Lover.” The name was less than a whisper on their lips, but the villain still flinched.

Superhero glanced down at their hostage. “You really didn’t know?” They gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I suppose you were somewhat useful. Now…” They faced Supervillain with a triumphant expression. “Turn yourself over to me, or I slit their pretty little throat.” 

Supervillain’s finger twitched. It was an almost imperceptible movement, unnoticeable had Civilian not been watching them a hawk. A wicked blade, about twelve inches long, sat in the air in front of Superhero’s face. It was as if it had appeared out of nowhere. The hero stiffened.

“Release them. Now. Or I kill you. They’re innocent, they have no part in this.” Their voice was both familiar and unfamiliar, deeper and a little raspier than usual. 

Superhero sneered at them around the blade. “They lost their innocence the second they started dating a master criminal. They’re just collateral now.” They increased their pressure on the knife, causing a thin line of blood to bead up on the hostage’s neck. “You’re fast, but are you fast enough? You might kill me, but you’ll be too late to save them.”

Civilian trembled in the hero’s grip, staring at the criminal’s motionless figure. They didn’t want Supervillain—Lover—to kill Superhero, no matter how terrible they were. They didn’t want to watch Lover do such a horrible thing, accept that they were capable of murder. It was the right thing for Supervillain to turn themself in, but Superhero was corrupt, possibly unstable. Civilian didn’t want to see them win either.

“Fine.” Supervillain’s blade clattered to the ground. The criminal held out their hands to Superhero. “Take me. Just let them go.”

The hero grinned. They stepped away from Civilian, offering the knife to them handle-first. “Hold this for me, love. For insurance.”

For the second time, their hand moved of its own accord. To their horror, it grabbed the knife and placed it on their neck again. They were frozen like that, not even able to speak. Supervillain’s shoulders tightened. The hero drew closer to them, taking a pair of thick power-suppressing handcuffs from their belt. 

“I can’t believe all it took to bring in the mighty Supervillain was a little mouse of a civilian,” they said, grabbing the criminal’s left hand roughly and forcing it into one of the cuffs, securing it with a loud click. The hero lifted their head and smirked at their masked face. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Supervillain murmured. Their captor continued speaking, but it wasn’t Superhero they were looking at. Instead, they gazed past at their partner’s ashen face, the blood matted in their hair, running from their cheek and shoulder. That’s when Civilian saw it. The subtle twitch of the villain’s finger on their uncuffed hand. The dusty brick that seemed to appear out of nowhere, hovering just above Superhero’s head. The hostage’s eyes widened. The hero hadn’t seen the movement, they were focused on their monologue, convinced they had already won. Civilian couldn’t say anything, couldn’t warn them. They weren’t even sure they wanted to. 

The brick came down. Superhero collapsed to the ground mid-sentence. Civilian dropped their knife, backing away. They watched as Supervillain knelt and unclipped a set of keys from the unconscious hero’s belt. They chose a silver one and unlocked the cuff on their left wrist, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. Only then did they look up at their partner. Soundlessly, they brought a hand to their face and slipped off their black mask, revealing the features beneath. Lover’s eyes met theirs. 

“Civilian, I’m so sorry—“

“Save it, Lover,” they said, voice trembling. “You lied to me. You’ve lied to me from the day we met. You’re a villain.”

Their pain was obvious on their face. “I know. It’s my fault you’re here. I’m so, so sorry, Civilian. I never meant for you to get hurt.”

“I was going to get hurt anyway!” they burst out. “No matter what happened, you were going to hurt me. Maybe not like this, but did you really think you could hide who you are forever? Why did you do this?” Their voice broke. “Why would you do this to me?” 

“Because I’m selfish,” they said. “And I love you. I loved you too much to tell you, and I was too selfish to let you go.” 

“Is that supposed to make me forgive you?” Tears began to well up in their eyes again. Their head pounded. “Because you love me, you think that makes everything okay?”

“Of course not.” Their voice was full of anguish. “It doesn’t make up for it. Nothing does. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I would understand if you hated me forever.”

“Lover…” Civilian put a hand to their forehead. The room was spinning, lightheadedness sinking in. “Lover, I don’t—“ 

Their knees buckled. Lover was there in a millisecond, catching them gently and holding them upright. Their head fell into Lover’s shoulder. The villain examined them with concern. A sheen of sweat stood out at their hairline. Their breathing was shallow and laborious. 

“Civilian. Civilian, are you all right?” they asked. 

“It-it hurts,” they whispered. 

Their partner’s eyes widened. “You’ve lost more blood than I thought. Your adrenaline’s kept you functioning all this time.” They placed a hand under Civilian’s knees and lifted them up into their arms. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I want to go home,” they mumbled.

Lover gave them a sad smile, starting out of the empty door frame. “So do I, my love.”

So do I. 

word count: 2948

[someonegoood]

THE CORPORATE EQUATION sweet epilouge ✫ jeon jungkook

the company heads out for a corporate retreat, where tensions run high and personal boundaries blur. During a casual evening event, the HR team inadvertently discovers the secret relationship between you and Jungkook.

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

miiini taglist @haru-jiminn @parapiop7 @radcustoms @minniejim @jeonzll @vantelover1306 @bgfdcvbnjk @mar-lo-pap @lmaothv @jksusawife @thatgirliehan @rayyrayy10 @lovingkoalaface <3

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

The private resort was a picture of luxury—secluded, sprawling, and nestled between mountains and a crystal-clear lake. It was meant to be a “corporate retreat,” a weekend of bonding and strategizing between the HR and PR teams, with the CEOs in attendance to ensure productivity.

In reality, it was an excuse for overworked employees to drink expensive wine on the company’s dime while pretending to network.

And, unfortunately for you, it also meant being stuck in the same space as Jungkook for an entire weekend—with no desks, boardrooms, or email chains to act as a buffer.

The HR and PR teams were already packed onto the large charter bus by the time you arrived, hurrying down the aisle in search of a seat. Unfortunately, it seemed every spot had been taken—except one.

Right next to Jeon Jungkook. Great.

Jungkook, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, barely spared you a glance as he scrolled through something on his phone.

“Uh… there aren’t any other seats,” you muttered, gripping the headrest beside him.

He exhaled through his nose, then shifted slightly, gesturing to the open space next to him. “Sit.”

You hesitated for half a second before sliding in, careful not to brush against him. But the space between seats was too small, and despite your best efforts, your thigh pressed against his.

Jungkook stiffened but didn’t say anything. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from his body. This was ridiculous. It was just a bus ride.

Minji, sitting a few rows ahead, turned and wiggled her brows at you. You shot her a glare. The bus rumbled to life, and soon, the city blurred into the countryside. Conversations hummed around you, but in your little corner, silence stretched.

Until Jungkook spoke.

“You’re fidgeting.”

You glanced up, caught off guard. “Huh?”

He tapped his thigh. “Your leg. You keep moving it.”

Heat crept up your neck. “I—Sorry.”

You stilled, but then the bus hit a bump, and you really didn’t have a choice but to press into him. Jungkook tensed. His jaw ticked.

“Relax,” he muttered after a beat, voice lower than usual. “It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal? Easy for him to say.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as your heart pounded against your ribs. It was going to be a long ride.

The night was warm, and the resort’s pool was dimly lit, the water reflecting the soft golden glow of the nearby lights. Jungkook leaned against the edge, half-submerged, the cool water doing little to dispel the heat curling in his stomach.

Because you were there. Laughing. Smiling. Completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

You had arrived late, dressed in a sleek black swimsuit that made his throat dry. The HR team had cheered when you finally joined them, and he had tried—really tried—to keep his eyes off you.

It didn’t work.

Especially not when you waded into the pool, water gliding up your body, trailing over your skin in ways that made his fingers twitch.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look away.

“Bro, you’re staring.”

Taehyung’s voice snapped him out of it. He turned to find his friend floating lazily beside him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Jungkook scowled. “Shut up.”

Taehyung chuckled, but before he could say more, a splash of water hit them both.

“Oops,” you said, all faux innocence, blinking at Jungkook through your lashes. “Was that too much?”

Jungkook raised a brow. “You did that on purpose.”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

Something hot and dangerous curled in his chest. Oh, so that’s how you wanted to play this?

Without a word, he lunged—water sloshing as he grabbed your wrist and tugged, sending you tumbling toward him with a yelp. The movement was quick, effortless.

Suddenly, you were pressed against his chest, eyes wide, breath hitched.

Jungkook smirked, voice low. “Still feeling playful?”

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, Minho’s voice rang out.

“Hey! No making out in the pool!”

Laughter erupted. You pushed away from Jungkook, face burning, while he merely leaned back against the edge, looking far too pleased with himself.

Yeah. This weekend was dangerous.

The resort’s garden was quiet, the scent of blooming flowers lingering in the cool evening air. You strolled along the path, enjoying the peace—until you spotted Jungkook leaning against a wooden railing, watching the koi pond.

Alone. You smirked, perfect.

“CEO Jeon,” you drawled, stepping beside him. “Brooding again?”

He didn’t look away. “Thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

You blinked. Heat flooded your face. “What?”

Jungkook finally turned, lips twitching. “You’re easy to fluster.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. "I hate you."

Jungkook smirked, the glow of the lanterns catching the sharp curve of his lips. "No, you don’t."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I came here for peace, not to be bullied."

He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Funny. I thought you came here looking for me."

Your stomach flipped. The way he said it—low, teasing, dangerous—made heat creep up your neck.

Before you could retaliate, a voice cut through the still night air.

"Jungkook!"

You stiffened. Eunji.

She walked toward you both, poised and effortless, her form-fitting dress swaying around her thighs. She wasn’t out of breath, wasn’t rushing. No—Eunji never rushed. She moved like she owned every room she entered. And worst of all? Jungkook didn’t immediately tell her to leave.

Your stomach twisted.

“I was looking for you,” she said smoothly, barely sparing you a glance. Then, with a practiced smile, she added, “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

With her.

The unspoken words lingered, thick as smoke in the air.

Your mood soured instantly.

Jungkook, oblivious—or maybe just indifferent—to the sudden shift in energy, raised a brow. “What do you need?”

Eunji stepped closer, closing the space between them. Then, as if it was nothing, she laid a hand on his arm.

Your breath hitched.

“Just a quick chat about the PR strategy,” she murmured, her fingers grazing his sleeve like she had every right to touch him. Like it was normal. Casual. Expected.

Something bitter curled in your chest. Seriously? She couldn’t have waited? You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself to stay calm.

Forcing a tight, polite smile, you cleared your throat. “I should go.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, his focus snapping back to you. “You don’t have to—”

But you were already turning away. And when you glanced back, Eunji was still touching him.

Still smiling up at him like she belonged there. Your chest ached.

Jealousy was an ugly thing.

The scent of burning wood curling into the cool evening air as the flames from the bonfire flickered against the dark sky. The corporate retreat had been filled with structured team-building exercises and tedious strategy meetings, but this—this was the first moment that truly felt alive.

People gathered in clusters, some perched on wooden benches, others sprawled out on blankets across the grass. Laughter echoed around the open-air patio, the sound of clinking glasses blending with the low hum of conversation.

You glanced across the bonfire-lit patio, where your HR team—Soojin, Dohyun, Minji, and Minho—were deep in conversation, laughing over something Minho had said. Further down, Hajun, Jungkook’s ever-efficient assistant, was nursing a glass of whiskey while keeping a watchful eye on his boss.

Jungkook, for his part, had claimed one of the large wooden logs arranged in a circle around the fire, lounging with an effortless kind of ease that contrasted sharply with the tension you felt coiling in your stomach. He was surrounded by his cousins, Seokjin and Yoongi, both looking equally relaxed.

Seokjin, as usual, had taken up the role of storyteller, gesturing wildly as he spun some exaggerated tale from their childhood, much to Yoongi’s quiet amusement.

And then, of course, there was Taehyung. How he had ended up at a corporate retreat when he didn’t even work at the company was beyond you. But when you’d asked, he’d merely smirked, claiming he was an “unofficial consultant” before pouring himself a generous glass of whatever expensive liquor had been set out.

“Someone had to make sure this trip wasn’t completely boring,” he had added with a wink.

The fire crackled, sparks dancing into the night as the alcohol flowed and inhibitions loosened. Someone had brought out a speaker, soft music blending into the conversations. The warmth of the flames mixed with the lingering buzz of the drinks, and for a moment, the lines between colleagues and friends blurred.

But as you watched Jungkook from across the fire, his jaw tight as he laughed at something Seokjin said, his gaze flickering to you for the briefest second—something told you tonight was going to be different.

Then there was Eunji—your not-so-subtle rival from PR—who had been eyeing you all evening with barely veiled suspicion.

"You're being weird," Soojin murmured beside you, nudging your arm.

You blinked. "What?"

"You keep sneaking glances at CEO Jeon." She wiggled her brows. "Got something to confess?"

Minji, overhearing, gasped. "Wait—no way. Do you have a thing for Jungkook?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, an all-too-familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"She better, considering they’ve been secretly dating for months."

Every head at your table snapped toward the source—none other than Seokjin, who had the smuggest expression imaginable as he leaned back in his chair.

You choked on air. Jungkook, seated beside him, tensed but said nothing, his gaze flicking toward you as the words registered across the firelit patio.

Silence. Then—

"WHAT?!"

Chaos erupted.

Soojin nearly spilled her drink. Minho swore. Dohyun clapped a hand over his mouth. Minji, ever the dramatist, gasped so hard she nearly lost consciousness. Hajun, sipping his whiskey, merely raised an eyebrow, completely unsurprised.

Eunji, on the other hand, looked delighted. "You and Jungkook?" She leaned forward, eyes glinting. "So that's why you've been so smug lately."

"I— No, we-" You turned to Jungkook, expecting him to deny it, but instead, he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered something under his breath.

That was all the confirmation anyone needed.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S TRUE!" Soojin shrieked.

"Wait, wait, wait," Minho interjected. "Since when?!"

Yoongi, who had been silently sipping his drink, finally spoke up, deadpan. "Since forever."

"Why are we just now finding out?" Dohyun demanded, looking genuinely offended.

Jungkook sighed. "Because it was none of your business? We're not dating."

"Wrong answer." Minji shook her head. "The correct answer was, ‘Because we were waiting for the right time to tell you, our dear and beloved friends whom we trust deeply.’ But no, you went with ‘None of your business.’ Unbelievable."

Soojin turned to you, still in shock. "Are you seriously dating Jungkook? As in, our CEO Jungkook? Grumpy CEO Jungkook? Will-fire-you-with-one-look Jungkook?"

Your face was on fire. "Yes."

The reaction was instant—cheers, dramatic gasps, and a round of mock applause. Even Taehyung looked impressed.

"I'm actually kind of proud of you," he told Jungkook, nudging his arm. "I thought you'd die alone."

Jungkook shot him a glare. "Thanks, Taehyung."

But before the conversation could spiral further, Hajun finally spoke, his voice calm and steady as always. "Alright, enough with the theatrics," he said, setting his glass down. "What matters is that they're happy. And if they wanted to keep it private, we should respect that."

A pause. Then—

"You knew, didn't you?" Minho narrowed his eyes at Hajun.

Hajun smirked, taking another sip of whiskey. "I know everything."

Jungkook groaned. You buried your face in your hands. This retreat was not going as planned.

The fire had burned low, embers glowing faintly against the darkened sky. Most of the group had dispersed—some retreating to their rooms, others lingering near the patio, finishing off bottles of wine and whiskey. But you had wandered away, needing space, needing air. The cool night breeze off the lake did little to calm the turmoil in your chest.

You were still thinking about earlier. Jungkook and Eunji.

Eunji’s hand on his arm. Her effortless smile. The way she had looked at him—like she had a right to be there. Like she had a right to him. And worst of all? The way he hadn’t immediately pushed her away.

You exhaled sharply, arms crossed as you stared at the water, your reflection rippling under the moonlight.

Then, footsteps. Jungkook.

He approached quietly, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual confidence tempered by something softer. Something cautious. "You okay?" His voice was low, just for you.

You let out a breathy laugh, but it lacked humor. "I mean… our secret kind of... relationship just got very public, so I’d say I’m still processing."

Jungkook’s lips twitched. "Seokjin is never going to let me live this down."

You scoffed. "Seokjin? Jungkook, none of them are letting us live this down."

"True." He tilted his head, watching you carefully before adding, "Are you… mad?"

That made you turn to him fully. "Why would I be mad?"

Jungkook hesitated, his jaw tightening for just a moment. "Because of earlier. At the park."

Your stomach twisted. Of course he knew.

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze back to the lake. "I mean… you didn’t exactly stop her from touching you."

Jungkook exhaled sharply. "You think I wanted that?" His voice was firm now, edged with something frustrated—like the idea of you doubting him genuinely bothered him.

You bit your lip, but before you could speak, he took a step closer, his warmth chasing away the night’s chill. "I only have eyes for you," he said, voice quieter now, more certain.

"I don’t care about Eunji. Or about my ex. I never have. And if I didn’t shut them down fast enough, it’s only because I was too busy watching you and trying to figure out how the hell to make it right."

Your breath hitched.

"So let me make it right now," he murmured, closing the last bit of space between you.

You reached for his hand first, lacing your fingers through his. "I don’t mind," you admitted. "If anything, I think it’s kind of a relief. I hated pretending you weren’t—" You swallowed, cheeks warming. "—important to me."

Jungkook’s grip tightened slightly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head. "Because I’m done pretending, too."

And then, under the soft glow of the moon, with the sound of the lake lapping against the shore, he kissed you—not in secret, not hidden away, but out in the open.

For the first time, it wasn’t a secret. And for the first time, it didn’t need to be.

previous

[sua-alienstage]

OOC///

turns out it wasn't an hour

WIEGE ANALYSIS - SPOILERS

Be warned that this is not a theory, its just what has been saw. by me, someone who is basically blind. without further ado lets begin

First shot:

First thing we see for the most part is luka smiling at hyuna, that despite her absence and despite him ending the life of hyun-woo he still loves and adores her and the gun is sort of a mild inconvenience to him

This shot is incredibly interesting, i believe that this are all of Lukas "clones". the ones that heperu didn't see as perfect, so he killed them. and luka is staring in shock, shooken by the fact that he was so willing to end the lives of them even if they did nothing but be unperfect.

Then we see hyuna. She appears to be in a collapsed buildling and this is how she lost her leg. this isn't the first time we have saw this picture though as it was a teaser for the lyrics ( Post from VIVINOS - YouTube). I don't know where exactly this is but i fear we might not be able to know due to what happened later on in the video

it then cuts to mizi and hyuna at what i can only assume is the rebellions "headquarters" and mizi is crying, its clear she hasn't gotten over sua's death and if i'm going to be honest I don't think she will

It then cuts to sua and mizi wearing each others clothes from round one. and mizi puts suas dress over it almost as if saying "i prefer this one" or "this one suits you better" and sua looks sad and only smiles once this entire scene. she's aware of what she will do in round one and probably has done for a while. it then cuts to till spray painting but i haven't saw that of value enough to include (sos till fan's)

This scene is one of the saddest this mv, Its "snowing" and if you didn't know snow in anakt is children's ashes, which explains Hyuna's crying, as i believe this is after hyun woos death so hyun woo is snowing down then there is a small cut of luka resting his head on Hyuna's

then from 1:55 to 2:05 it looks like what i believe to be a modern au as there sua has a smart phone. and in this small scene luka and hyuna appear to have wedding rings on (thank you random tumblr person for pointing that out) then there are multiple cuts of them all being happy and alive. them singing having fun, sua comforting mizi. till drawing. they are all happy

now this shot confirms when wiege takes place. right after blink gone. mizi is crying over tills body, she couldn't save him. she tried but failed. she then (i believe) imagines up a picture of sua.

Next has a variety of misc shots of luka and hyuna the most notable being a shot of the rebellion (excluding mizi, most likely before she joined)

they are all crying over a dying member of the team, except hyuna which i think is to show off her guarded side. a side she hasn't let out to most people, only one person: luka. apart from that she is incredibly guarded to everybody

Luka then runs up to hyuna who protects him from getting shot. She saved him but sacrificed herself (wonder where we have heard that hm? ivan and sua perhaps)

she then says a speech, her final words to the world and more importantly luka.

I resented you so. I had to keep moving forward in every moment... But you were always my one and only weakness. That's why I resented you so. Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself... Again and again, endlessly. Because everything... begins from there.

This i'm not going to even try to analyse but its so emotional. a pure emotion to luka And speaking of emotion we see luka crying.

as she says her speech rockets fall from the sky. I dont really know why so any help would be incredibly helpful

That's all. Keeping living your free life. o7 hyuna.

Also the song slap's i'm definitely adding it to a playlist

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part 13//t.c.

He told you not to look at posts about him and Kylie online. But something possessed you to look. It was something obsessive inside of you.

After the A Complete Unknown premiere in Paris, he and Kylie had a ‘secret’ date with loads of paparazzi to capture them entering and leaving the restaurant and the hotel afterwards.

It hurt you to see him holding her hand, leading her through the crowd of flashing lights and photographers shouting at them.

Kylie wore a black, skintight jumpsuit which showed lots of cleavage. She seemed to be almost posing for the cameras, smiling directly at one of them. She looked so proud to be on Timothée’s arm.

You couldn’t help but think that that should be you. That she didn’t deserve him, even if they were just pretending. You hated seeing it. You had a horrible feeling inside when you saw them together. You didn't recognize your Timmy.

He didn’t even have to kiss her or look her, it was just the simple fact of her touching him, sitting close to him in the car, it just made your skin crawl. Maybe you were too jealous for this to work.

At least you had a couple days to clear your head before you saw Timmy again. You decided to go home, to see your parents, have a home cooked meal with your siblings. You needed to come down to earth, out of Timothée Chalamet’s orbit for just a moment.

Your first night in your parents’ house, he tried calling you. But you weren’t ready to talk. You couldn’t be his girlfriend at this moment, or his assistant.

He left voicemails and text after text, “baby call me please.” “need to hear your voice.” “miss you so much. I wish you were here.” So many sweet things. But you couldn’t give in. You loved him, of course you did. But you had been feeling way too much and needed a break from it all. You felt like you didn't know yourself anymore.

……..

In all, you spent a week away. You let Timmy know that you needed a vacation, and he granted you the time off. But that was all the conversation was about. You didn’t let it get any more personal than that, despite his desperate attempts.

You knew that he was probably hurting too, with you going away so suddenly. But you did your best not to think about it.

But it was finally time to go back. You felt refreshed, and level-headed about the situation. You were ready for whatever was to come.

You knocked on his door on your first Monday back to work. There was no answer. You waited a moment, then let yourself inside. “Timmy?” you called. There was no sign of him, or any sign that he had been roaming around the apartment at all that morning.

The place was unkempt. Take out containers and beer bottles scattered about. You started to really worry. You called his name again with no response.

You checked his bedroom, and there he was, sleeping like a rock.

You shook him, gently, “Timmy, it’s time to start work for the day.” you whispered.

He grumbled, clenching his eyes, then opening them. He sighed when he looked up at you. “You’re here, finally.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffed, “Fuck no, I’m not okay.” he raised up in the bed, his eyes red and more tired looking than ever. "My girlfriend leaves me high and dry for a fucking week. Do you not understand how bad I need you?”

“I do. But I needed time to take care of myself.”

“Well, what happened?”

“I couldn’t stand the pictures of you Kylie on your romantic date in Paris.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’ve told you not to pay attention to any of that.”

“Oh fuck off, Timothée, and put yourself in my shoes! How would you like it if some other man was parading me around across the world? Do you really think that I want you to be with another woman half the time?” you didn't want to raise your voice at him, but you couldn't help it.

“It’ll come to end eventually, I swear it will! I’m sorry that you’re upset.” he calmed down, reaching to grab your hand.

“Do I not have the right to be?”

“Yes, you do. I just don’t know what I can do about it right now."

“You can choose. It’s her or me.”

“You know that I choose you.”

“No. It’s me or her. You don’t get me in private and Kylie Jenner in public. Not anymore. I don’t want to be anyone’s secret, not even yours. I can't keep putting you before myself.”

“Please, don’t do this.” he pleaded, his eyes becoming glassy.

“I love you, but I can’t let you consume me like this. I can’t work for you anymore.” The tears were coming, you sniffled.

“I don’t give a shit about you being my assistant, I just want you.”

“If you break it off with her.”

“I-"

You shrugged, “See? You can’t give her up. I don’t know if it’s the fame or the sex,-"

He cut you off sharply, “I don’t have sex with her!”

“She is sex, Timothée. It’s about how masculine you are if you’re dating her. That's what it's all about. People take you seriously now that you’ve bagged her.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve had time to think about this, that’s all. And I think I understand. You’ll never have a normal relationship now. It’s not for you, Timothée.”

“Why do you keep calling me by my full name? Are you..." he looked down, swallowing hard as a tear fell from his swelling eyes, “are you breaking up with me?”

You gasped, hearing the words out loud was something you hadn’t prepared for. You put your hand out, wanting to soothe him, to run your fingers through his hair, to hold him. But you couldn’t. Slowly, you retracted your hand. “I just don’t see how it could ever really work. Not if you’re involved with someone else. I want someone who doesn’t have to hide me.”

Timmy took a deep breath, nodding, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he put his head on his hands.

You wiped your own tears away, “I’m going to go now.” you said.

He looked at you again, “Okay.”

As you started to walk out of his bedroom, he spoke again.

"Y/n, I want you to know that everything I've ever said to you was real. I love you. You've meant more to me than you could ever understand. So, thank you."

February 16, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala @heatherpi @iconic-jedimullet @pmak2002

[mscherub]

Clinging for (Emotional) Support

Prefect needs a bit of a break after a stressful day, so they seek out their favorite person…

Reader is gender neutral, referred to as Prefect or Y/N

Warnings!: The Leech Twins… :)

These are just my headcanons!

Tags: Fluff, romantic or platonic (perceive it whichever way you’d like to), hugs and cuddles, comfort

Heartslabyul; Savanaclaw; Octavinelle (you’re here :3), Scarabia; Pomefiore; Ignihyde; Diasomnia(TBD)

Intro:

You’ve had a bad day, well, a worse one than usual, and you feel like you’re on the verge of crashing out. So, you go to one of your favorite people and you cling to them for some emotional support, not doing anything else besides holding on for dear life and nuzzling your face into their chest or shoulder, not providing one bit of information as to why you’re even doing this. But, don’t worry, they care for you a lot, maybe more so than they let on <3

Riddle 🌹:

He doesn’t take to well to it at first

When you come to him looking all stressed out, he’ll obviously offer you some support and offer to talk with him about whatever is bothering you, but when you shake your head and instead wrap your arms around him and burry your face in wherever it can reach, he freezes up

“Prefect! Why are you doing this? Th-this is unacceptable! This is improper!”

He’ll turn bright red, not out of anger but out of embarrassment of the whole situation

He still won’t be totally used to it even when you keep it up, genuinely confused as to why you chose him out of all people and more importantly, keep coming back to him, but he won’t admit to it, it also helps him calm down too when you hold on

On rare occasions when he’s not too busy with other things and you two are in a more secluded place, he’ll hug you back

“Agh- again, Prefect? A little warning next time before you get all handsy with me…are you alright, though? Don’t be stressed, you’re as lovely as a rose, don’t begin to wilt simply because of a setback.”

Trey ♣️:

People rely on him, yes, but you’ve brought it to a whole new level here, like, you’re physically leaning on him now

At first he just laughs out of being surprised, but when he sees you hugging him tighter, your brows furrowed in clear stress, he’ll stop and ask what’s going on

“Hah! What’s this— oh…hey, look at me, are you ok? Do you want a sweet treat?”

He’ll wrap his arms back around you without a second thought, gently rubbing your back as well to add that extra boost of comfort

He has younger siblings so of course he’s well off in a situation like this, basically second nature at this point for him

If he’s baking, he may not have time for you to cling to him like you’d want, so he’ll apologize when he’s done with one of the baked goods and by letting you stick by him as long as you want, but he’ll try and make the time for you always

“Prefect…it’ll be alright. Want a tart? They’re freshly made, as always…anything to help you feel better.”

Cater ♦️:

Heyyy! There you are! Oh…why are you looking at him like that…that’s not good, you don’t look to good, emotionally wise…

As soon as you wrap your arms around him he’ll tense up. He’ll awkwardly look down at you and quirk an eyebrow

He’s no stranger to the emotions of people around him so he can tell something is up fairly quickly with the people close around him

“What’s wrong? Do you need Cay-kun to come to the rescue— no jokes…ok, gotcha. Spill it, Prefect, what’s the matter?”

He’s gentle about it, this type of support he learned from his sisters

He’ll lead you off to a more quieter place and just chill out with you until you either tell him what’s wrong or let go of him

He’ll try and cheer you up with taking pictures with funny filters on, if that doesn’t work, he has other methods. Maybe see what’s the spiciest thing he can eat? If you laugh at him tearing and snotting up from it, it’s worth the pain

“Ahhh, what am I gonna do with you? Wanna see Cay-Kun looking all stupid with this filter? Did you smile finally? Aweee, you’re adorbs, Prefect, smile again for me, I need to celebrate you feeling better with a post on my page!”

Ace ❤️:

He’ll try and push you off at first, he didn’t exactly see your expression so he’ll try and pry your arms off of him, huffing while doing so

Like why are you clinging to him? Hello? Earth to Prefect, get off of him now!

once he realizes there’s something up he’ll stop with trying to push you away and he’ll go quiet, awkwardly standing there and mumbling before he finally asks if something’s up

“Aye! What’s this? Get off of meeeeeee, Prefect, let go, why are you doing this— oh…um…so…are you…ok?”

He’s going to try and tease you at first, it’s an Ace thing, so don’t take it to heart, but if you won’t let up he’ll try and be a little more considerate

He’ll pat your back in an unsure manner, not quite knowing what to do, but when you don’t ease up, he decides maybe it’s best to take some action

If you want to see some magic tricks to cheer you up he’ll do it, but you gotta let go— no? Ok…he can do something else to make you better then

Reassuring words are rare from him, but he cares a lot for you, so he’ll spare a few

“Hey, it’ll be alright. Whatever happened just know I’m always here, even if I may seem like an ass half the time— ok…of course I can be honest about myself from time to time. Oh hushhhhh…I’ve got you, I just want you to be happy, smile again, looks better on you.”

Deuce ♠️:

Cue confused noises coming from him, he won’t exactly question what you’re doing, but he will he going through a whole bunch of different scenarios through his head as to why you are doing this

When he sees you’re not your normal self, the lightbulb will go off in his head and he’ll ask how you’re doing

“Uh…prefect? Are you alright? Talk to me here, what’s up? Are you hurt? No? Answer me here…”

He’ll hug you back, albeit tentatively as hell, but he doesn’t want to do anything wrong and he doesn’t want to do something that’ll upset you more, which him not doing anything might actually upset you more— anyways

He’ll keep talking to you to try and get you to rant about whatever you’re finding particularly stressful at the moment. And no, he totally won’t threaten anybody if that’s the cause of your stress, don’t think like that—

“You sure you’re ok? You’re stressed because…of a person? Prefect, I can handle them— ok, never mind. Sorry…I’ll stay right here, don’t worry. By your side as long as you want me to be. Protecting you as long as you need me to…I’ll stop being cringey…”

Leona 🦁:

Glares at you because you’re in his personal space, like what are you doing?

He can sense something is off though, it’s not that hard to tell when you wrap your arms around him and cling on for dear life like he’s gonna slip away at any moment

He’ll make a small huff and his tail will flick a few times before he asks what’s up

“Herbivore…what’s this for? Never thought you were this bold to be glued to a predator like this…not in a laughing mood, huh? Tell me what’s wrong, then get off me, I’m trying to sleep…”

Sorry not sorry, but everyone knows Leona is a dick most times, just a given fact, but in all honesty, when it comes do you he does care, even though his words sound lacking of it, he only means good

He won’t push you off, he’ll let you stick to him…actually, you know what, why not just stay with him and take a nap? I think it’d better the both of you, and you’d have time to wind down while also being with him

Few words are shared between you, but you have a cuddly lion now, so…there’s that

Win win, no?

“Mmm, no, you don’t have to go…just stay here. I’m not a complete ass, I know when someone needs a little help. Relax…no literally relax you’re moving around too much, Herbivore…”

Ruggie 💰:

Boy is he confused

Honestly, at first, bro thought he was getting robbed by someone, but when he seen it was you, he got all happy and started teasing you like normal

Then when he watches you burry your face into his clothes he knows something is not right. He’s…worried but doesn’t really know how to convey it

“Hey! Oh, prefect! Miss me that much? Shyeheehee!! Hmmm? Heyyy, what’s up with that look? Huh?”

Now he’ll try and cheer you up

His methods are a little quirky, but he’ll offer to buy you something with Leona’s money, let me rephrase, get you both something to snack on with Leona’s money

You can still chill with him, he enjoys it

“Leona’s asleep, I can go snag his wallet and I can score us something at Sam’s shop…I’ll buy the more expensive one this time I guess if it’ll cheer you up…don’t make me use Laugh with Me on you just to see you smile again— Shyeheehee! I’m messing with ya!”

Jack 🐺:

Stiffens up quite quickly. He’ll look down at you and wonder what the hell you’re trying to do but then he’ll realize that you’re not exactly at your best in this moment, he can basically feel it radiating off of you

His ears will flatten against his head, betraying how he feels almost right away.

His words are simple and few, but he does mean well and has good intentions

“What’s wrong? Why are you…so are you ok? No? Ok…can I do something to help?”

He likes to help those he holds close to him, so of course he’ll try and comfort you to the best of his abilities. You want to pet his tail? That may be a little too far—

Fine…he can let you, just this once, but if anyone sees it’s over!

“Prefect…how can I help cheer you up? I don’t think my tail is a great option…it is? I…fine, just this once I guess, if it’ll help cheer you up.”

Azul 🐙:

This is…not what he intended to happen upon seeing you, yea, no…he already has Floyd to worry about now apparently you? Yea…he stiffens up and kinda just stands there, sputtering nonsense, and then trying to push you off of him

He’ll finally take the hint when you just hug him tighter after he fails to get you off. He still won’t calm down that much

Might try and pull the business move on you, especially since you’re in such an emotionally weakened state…he won’t he would

“Prefect! I— what is— no! Hey— you…what…I don’t condone this! You’re…not ok. What do you expect me to do? Wait…actually, why don’t you come back to my office and we can discuss what I could do to assuage your ailments— no then…”

He’s kinda flattered you chose him, but it’s not like he’s really…great at comforting, he’ll try his best. You’ll have to pay him back for it later on your own time

He’ll try and talk to you about it, I don’t really see him trying to touch you or comfort you in any other way. To him, words can go a long way to help someone

“You’re in need, and that’s what our dorm specializes in the best. Can you talk about what is bothering you? I won’t use it against you…I promise. I’m not that bad. Talk to me, it’ll help clear your mind”

(Be careful, blackmail is a good thing to have, he might use whatever you say against you…)

Jade 🫧:

He’ll eerily smile at you at first, he stated he gets overheated easily so…hugs are not really preferred, but he’ll entertain you

He’s not exactly confused, rather intrigued by the whole thing. Why are you clinging to him? Exactly, why him? It’s rather interesting, and almost pathetic in his eyes, but it makes the situation all the more sweet, in his own twisted way

He’ll notice you’re out of it and gently put one hand on the small of your back, that’s the furthest he’ll go

“Oya? Hmmm…fu fu fu, this is quite interesting, no? What is it you need, Prefect? You know the motto of our dorm. I’m willing to assist in whatever you’d need…”

Like I’ve mentioned before…he likes to be relied on. So he kinda likes the situation. He’ll stay with you as long as time permits him. His smile is…far from his normal polite one.

“Prefect? You may talk to me about whatever is troubling you, but I know some humans prefer not to. You can stay by me as long as you need, but just know I may have to get to work soon. For now, however, my time is yours…”

(Y’ALL WHAT DID U EXPECT ME TO SAY, THE TWINS, as much as I love my babies 😭, THEY ARE FAR FROM INNOCENT)

Floyd 🫧:

Oh boy…

Well, here’s the thing, Floyd loves to squeeze people, but the other way around? He doesn’t prefer it…but you are his Shrimpy, so he’ll give you a pass…maybe, depending on his mood

He’ll look at you and laugh. Damn you look almost desperate. He lets you cling to him for a bit before he squeezes you back. Maybe you needed one of his “hugs” anyways…let’s just say he’s in a good mood this time

“Heh! Shrimpy…what are you doing? Oh? You seem sad…don’t be sad Shrimpy~! I can squeeze ya back too! See?”

He’s all over you, hugging, squeezing, nuzzling his face against yours. He’s all giggles, his Shrimpy is squeezing him first. It’s funny! It’s like you’re challenging him or something…

You never fail to cause trouble or stir fun around him, so he’ll stick around for a bit until it gets boring for him. Which in all honesty, it won’t.

Never boring with you around!

“Shrimpy! Aweee, cheer up! I’ll just squeeze ya harder, yea? If it helps ya feel better I will…just don’t squeeze me back too hard, you might hurt me…”

I fear my favoritism for Octavinelle always shines through…<3

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[writingdevil]

Hiiii!!! Your stp writings are so good!!!! I love, love the way you write opportunist and cold!!! I was wondering if you could maybe write about a ship between them hehe 👀

(Thank you! I always wonder if the way the way I write Oppy and Cold is okay, so I'm glad to hear that! They'd be a really interesting ship, so they'll be fun to write for! Enjoy!)

(Is this the first time I need a warning for one of these? Warning-Blood, injury, knife play I guess)

"I win!"

Opportunist laughed in victory, slamming his final card down onto the deck, before his smile fell at the bored expression Cold wore across the table.

He was resting his chin on his palm, fiddling with one card between his fingers, the rest of his deck laying on the table for Opportunist to see, clear as day.

Opportunist chuckled awkwardly, reaching out to take the deck in his hands, shrugging as he went, "Maybe you'll win next round?"

Cold rolled his eyes. "I don't think so."

Opportunist's shoulders slumped at the empty tone of Cold's voice. He had hoped that Cold would enjoy cards, but it clearly wasn't as stimulating to him as it was to Opportunist, who couldn't get enough of any card game.

"You never know," Opportunist encouraged still, "I'm sure there's a card game out there that you won't be able to get enough of."

Cold snorted at his words, flicking the card in his grasp at him. Opportunist barely blinked before he had snatched it into the deck. Cold shoved the rest of his deck towards him as he said, "You said that card games were full of strategy and bluff. I'm afraid I can't see the appeal that you and Skeptic see."

Opportunist waved him away, pretending not to be offended. "Oh come on, it's fun once you get the hang of it. I promise you'll love it."

"Love staring at shapes and numbers while we sit in awkward silence?"

Opportunist looked at him in surprise, before sighing in defeat, beginning to silent shuffle the deck, if only for something for his hands to do.

Opportunist had been determined to get Cold to enjoy playing cards with him-or, well, just to enjoy being around Opportunist.

It seemed like Cold hopped from one bird to another everyday, from causing chaos with Contrarian, to trailing after Hero or Paranoid, to even pestering Smitten and Stubborn. There just appeared to be some sort of activity that Cold enjoyed doing with each flockmate-everyone except Opportunist.

Something about it left a sour taste in his mouth, and he intended to fix that. Opportunist wasn't even sure why he cared so much. Who cares what Cold does in his spare time? What does it matter if Cold didn't give Opportunist the same time he gave others?

Opportunist told himself it wasn't a big deal, but then he saw the way Cold would rather be anywhere else right now, and his chest felt a pang of pain.

He busied himself with shuffling the cards more intensely, trying to convince himself that what Cold thought of him shouldn't matter that much. Cold was reckless and illogical most of the time, who couldn't try and see the bigger picture and possibilities if his life depended on it.

But at the same time-Opportunist couldn't help but admire Cold's unflinching attitude, how nothing seemed to weigh him down, and how he was unapologetic in his stony demeanor, despite the others frustrations with him.

For that, Opportunist was trying his hardest to get closer to Cold, but that was turning out to be a fruitless task.

He didn't tear his gaze away from the cards in his hands as he said, "If this is truly not enjoyable for you, you're welcome to leave," hoping he hid the disappointment in his voice well.

A few seconds passed, but Cold hadn't moved yet, and when Opportunist looked up, he was surprised to see Cold staring at him with narrowed eyes.

Opportunist found himself unable to look away from his steely eyes, until Cold suddenly shot to his feet, barely glancing at Opportunist as he said, "I have an idea," and then walked off.

Opportunist blinked in confusion, trying to wrap his head around what was happening, until Cold returned, one hand behind his back and an intensity in his eyes.

"I propose we add something to make the game more-interesting," Cold suggested, and although Opportunist was slightly nervous, he just showed Cold nothing but enthusiastic interest, resting his head against his palm as he said, "I'm listening."

Cold's eyes flickered with delight as he pulled his hand out-and Opportunist tried to hide his flinch at the sight of a knife in Cold's hand.

Cold swung the knife side to side as he calmly explained, "Every time we play a trick card, the other person has to toss and catch the blade." To demonstrate, Cold effortlessly tossed the knife up into the air, and caught it without looking at it once, and Opportunist found it was an effort to not stare at the action.

"What does the winner get?"

Cold's eyes shone. "To see the other bleed and keep playing."

This was dumb. This was beyond dumb.

But the thought of disappointing Cold further had him smiling and saying, "I'm in."

Cold's mouth quirked into a smile, and then he sat back down, looking more invested than ever, setting the knife down next to them, and Opportunist tried not to stare at it.

Although they all knew that they would probably nevee see the blade again, some of the others still grew antsy around any of their normal knives. Cold was actually forbidden from roaming the kitchen and cooking, or just handling knives in general, and Opportunist was just flat out not allowed in the area.

Still, he was decent with a knife, and if he stayed calmed, then he might not lose all his fingers today.

He swiftly dealt out the cards, and placed the first card down, before checking his own deck. Two sevens and an ace-not bad, but it all depends on how he plays them, and on whatever cards Cold had.

Cold placed a card down, and Opportunist shivered when it was just a normal one.

Opportunist's eyes flicked between his cards and Cold's weirdly focused gaze, and the heat of those eyes had him going, 'Fuck it,' and he placed a seven down with a sharp smile.

Cold didn't appear shocked-but when does he ever- and he didn't break eye contact with Opportunist as he took the blade, and flipped it in the air.

He caught it by the tip of the metal, the handle bouncing up and down, before he unceremoniously dropped it with a clatter.

Opportunist gave him an impressed look. "Well done."

"Not quite," Cold retorted with, and Opportunist was confused until Cold showed him his hand. It was easy to miss, but then Cold stuck his thumb out, and that was when Opportunist saw a small cut on the finger, a small bead of blood dribbling down it.

It was hardly a serious injury, but the sight of the blood sent Opportunist's mind spinning, and he wonder how much pain Cold could actually endure before he couldn't dull it down anymore.

He gave Cold a pout of fake sympathy, and mockingly said in a childish tone, "Aww, do you want me to kiss it better?"

"Keep playing," Cold just instructed, but his voice was a little too rigid and firm in that moment than normal, but Opportunist didn't comment on it.

He placed a normal card down, and it was smooth sailing for the next few minutes, but Opportunist then heard a 'plop', and he looked up, to see that the blood from Cold's thumb was dripping onto the table.

He stared at it. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop staring at the blood. Maybe it was because he doesn't often see Cold actually bleed, despite his destructive behavior. Did he do this around others? Or was Opportunist just special right now?

The thought was driving him so mad that he jumped in surprise when Cold put a card down and announced, "Ace, change to hearts."

Opportunist's gaze snapped back to the deck, but sure enough, Cold had placed an ace down.

He chuckled, because he wasn't sure what else to do, other than send Cold a confident smile, stretching his arm out as if getting ready for a workout. Cold didn't speak-just looked at him expectedly.

Opportunist felt his face begin to hurt from how hard he was maintaining his smile, but he ignored it as he picked up the knife, staring directly at Cold, just as the other had when it had been his turn.

"Ready?" Cold asked, a hint of a tease in his voice, and it only egged him further on. He took a deep breath, looked Cold right in the eyes, and tossed the knife up into the air.

He told himself to remain calm, because a clear mind was how you survived dicey situations like this-but then his mind betrayed him, and he glanced at Cold's hand again, only to find him squeezing more blood out of his cut, and it dripped down his wrist, right in front of Opportunist, whose face suddenly flushed.

He choked on a gasp, before the knife came back down.

He smelled the metal before he felt the pain.

But when he did feel it, he hissed loudly as the knife landed right on his frozen palm, slicing it open. His body twitched and convulsed with pain, but Opportunist was determined not to panic and look weak, so he forced himself to remain seated, his hand burning as blood began coating his hand.

He tried to give Cold a big smile, but even he knew it wasn't convincing, but still, he tried. He laughed, blinking back tears and trying not to move his hand too much. "Fun! How fun this is!" he said cheerfully, choking on whimpers that threatened to come up his throat.

He gave Cold a wobbly smile, who actually looked a little surprised at him. Opportunist counted that as a win-that he managed to alter Cold's expectations of him.

Cold stared at him for a few seconds, his gaze also lingering on Opportunist's bleeding palm. He actually looked at a loss for words. The heat of his eyes on his palm was almost enough to soothe the searing pain he was in, but then Cold suddenly shot to his feet, his face unbothered but his eyes wild, attention never leaving his bloody hand as he shakily said, "I'll get bandages, then we're finished."

Horror shot through Opportunist, at the thought of Cold walking away, deeming him as nothing more than a scared little birdie who couldn't manage to be interesting for even a few minutes. Opportunist wasn't ready for Cold to discard him like that.

So he ignored the pain shooting up his arm now, and slammed a card down on the deck. "Ace," he declared, smirking up at Cold, whose feathers bristled at the look, "change to spades."

Cold held his gaze for a moment, before excitement flashed in his eyes.

He sat back down and picked up the knife.

[tokiro07]

Something I alluded to in this week's Ichi review was that while I've been invested up to this point, I haven't been as completely immersed as I had been with Undead Unluck or Cipher Academy, which both captured and held me from ch.1 all the way to the end

I decided to chase that and analyze why Ichi wasn't connecting with me the same way

Looking back at chapter 1, the thing that hooked me was the setting; a world where only women can wield magic, and do so by passing tests posed to them by monsters who embody the individual spells. Even ignoring the premise that a man manages to break the status quo, that core concept alone was enough to spark my curiosity

From there, each chapter continued to expand on that setting - giving examples of the types of monsters we'd see, teasing the process of finding and facing them, showing glimpses of the society built by the women who use magic, their tools and their fashion, but something was still missing

Every week I found myself asking "what are we doing this for?" What was the grander goal, and who was going to stand in the way?

It wasn't until the most recent arc with the introduction of the World Hater that I really got the answer to that question - one of the monsters, moreso than any other, wants to destroy everything. In turn, our protagonist, more than anything, wants to kill it - regardless of whether or not it would save lives, he just knows it would be fun. It's a fairly simple goal, but a compelling one nonetheless, allowing me to not only be invested in the setting, but now also in the plot

But something was still missing

And it was only during this chapter that I realized what it was. Desscaras, The Strongest Witch, faced with a situation that her strength won't help her overcome, chooses to be open and vulnerable, and suddenly that something wasn't missing anymore

I was finally invested in the characters

I thought Ichi was interesting enough, for sure, with how unhinged he was and the themes that his philosophy suggested for the series, but I didn't know what the intentions were for his arc. Desscaras was silly and fun to watch, but I didn't have a good read on how she would contribute to the narrative. Kumugi was the only one I particularly saw thematic potential in from the get, which is why I latched onto her pretty quickly, but it was clear she was meant to be a slow burn and wasn't going to be getting a ton of focus for the foreseeable future

In other words, everyone in the cast had an interesting hook, but no one had shown any real depth yet, at least not to the extent that I wanted

But now I can see it

The flaw in Ichi's philosophy that makes him reckless with the life that he supposedly cherishes so much, the weakness in Desscaras' heart that necessitated she become the Strongest in the first place, and the connection forged between the two of them

Granted, I also said from the beginning that I expected that sort of connection to come up between Ichi and Uroro, so it's not like I couldn't envision how this story would deepen its cast, but just imagining how it would do it and actually seeing it happen are two different things. Now that we're seeing the bonds deepening between two characters, we're likely to start seeing it happen with others more and more often, though likely still fairly slowly

Now that I have a clear picture of how the cast will grow, I can definitively get excited for it rather than just projecting a hypothetical that I hope to see

I think this is also why there are so many manga in Jump that I don't get excited about

I didn't care for Kagurabachi from the beginning because I didn't care about the setting, plot or characters. It was only during the Rakuzaichi Arc, which really started focusing on the characters, that I started feeling invested, but I still don't care about the setting and only slightly care about the plot. In the Samura Arc, though, I'm starting to care a bit more about the plot, and I can see a bit more of interest in the setting, but I'm still not there yet. If it can clinch that, I'll be all in

There are other factors that matter, of course - art style, pacing, themes, etc. all contribute to my enjoyment, but I can look past the art and pacing if everything else works, and I can only care about the themes if I like at least one of the previous factors

By analyzing my experiences like this, I'm getting a clearer picture of my tastes and how I define the quality of a work. Hopefully this framework will help me better articulate my opinions going forward and give me a better approach to appreciating what I read

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

you in my eyes [6] l Javier Peña

Summary:  you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings:  angst, some kissing, enemies (?) to lovers, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, Murphy shows up, guns, blood

A/N: let me know you're reading this. I've had too little time lately to devote to this story, and I like it.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter] [masterlist]

"Did you lose something?"

Loise watched him closely as he appeared near your desk and noticed your absence.

"Is she at work?" he asked, nodding towards your usual spot.

The woman smiled and adjusted the stack of files she held in her arms. Javier had the impression that she was having fun delaying the answer.

"Yes, she is." she finally answered.

"Where?" Why did she have to be like that, shit.

Loise analyzed his question again for a moment, until she finally answered, "She went to the archives. She said she had something to check."

"Thanks." he said dryly and started walking down the still empty hallway.

It was early, but not early enough, because he didn't find you at home when he showed up to pick you up. Okay, you didn't expect him to come back sooner, but shouldn't you have been at the apartment? Where were you that night when he showed up on your doorstep? Who did you meet looking like that... Peña remembered the smile of your neighbor who informed him of your absence that evening. Where the hell did you go?

He pressed the elevator button, but he was too impatient and eventually went down the stairs to the archive. His footsteps echoed in the hallway, and when he stopped in front of the door he noticed that the light was on inside. Loise might not be lying though.

As soon as the door opened he smelled dust and paper, and the quiet hum of the fan. Javier slipped inside and quickly made his way through the maze between the shelves. He spotted you after a moment, you were standing with your back to him, searching carefully through one of the boxes.

"I finally found you." he mumbled, and you quickly turned around.

His heart leapt at the sight of you, and your smile made the corners of his lips turn up a little. Did he miss you?

"Javier!" your voice filled his ears with a pleasant sound "I thought you were coming back in the evening."

"We managed to come back earlier." he replied, walking over and folding his arms over his chest "Yesterday, exactly."

"Oh, that's good." you replied, pulling out another folder and placing it on a couple more that you had on the shelf below "Did you manage to find anything? Any new leads?"

"Yeah, we have something to work on." he mumbled "And you?"

"I think I have something too."

You reached for the folders and started looking through them, excited, clearly wanting to show him something. Javier watched you closely, he felt the blood in his veins starting to flow faster, his thoughts speeding up.

"Yesterday I managed to meet with a guy, he had important information." you said without looking up at him.

"That's good." Javier replied.

"I didn't want to believe what he told me, but he had pictures and..." your eyes widened "Shit! He wasn't lying."

He didn't know what you were talking about. He didn't care. He finally blurted out what had been eating at him since yesterday.

"Did you have fun while I was gone?"

"W-What? What are you talking about?" you finally looked at him, distracted from your train of thought.

Javier cleared his throat. "I was at your place yesterday. Right after I got back with Murphy. You were gone."

"I had to go out. I had an appointment." you replied surprised, frowning.

He nodded. "You're dressed up for meetings with informants? Your neighbor told me."

Finally, the context of his words sunk in. Javier saw your eyes light up and your fingers clench tighter.

"What are you suggesting, Agent Peña?" you hissed.

"I'm just saying you weren't home. And now that you're saying you met with an informant, so..."

"I got information about a mole in our office. I couldn't go there and look like an agent from a distance." The words fell out quickly through your clenched teeth. You turned the folder and pressed it into Javier's hands. "This guy is collecting information from our office. He also had information about your last mission with O'Connell."

Peña looked at the photo of the man, he looked pretty average, but since he was in the files he had to be related. You pulled a folded photo out of your back pocket and put it on the one Javier was looking at.

"She's having an affair with him. They've been seeing each other for a while." You said, Javier looked at you. "I caught the mole, Agent Peña. And I didn't have to spread my legs."

Javier gulped. He already knew he fucked up. You glared at him and he really considered what he should say. Finally he spoke.

"I didn't say that..." you rolled your eyes in annoyance "Listen, I..."

"You better not say anything, Peña." you silenced him by pulling the file out of his hand "I have to meet with Messina. You can write it off as my next fling if you want, I don't give a damn."

"Shit! Sorry, I panicked!"

"Right, and you immediately thought of me like everyone else in the office!" you walked past him and headed for the door "I was so stupid. I thought you were different..."

Before he could say anything or react, the door slammed shut behind you with a bang.

The entire office had been pretending to work for over an hour, but everyone's eyes kept wandering to the door of Messina's office where she, you, one of the agents, and the person you had identified as the mole had all disappeared. Javier also caught himself looking in that direction, but his motivations were completely different. The guilt was eating him up inch by inch and he wondered if he would ever be able to look you in the eye again.

"I can't believe it's her." Murphy mumbled, stretching in his chair and clasping his hands behind his neck. "She worked with all of us."

"She also had access to the documents and everything else." Javier mumbled, lighting a cigarette and scratching his temple, your name finally leaving his lips. "You know if she wasn't sure, they wouldn't be sitting there right now."

"Yeah, I know." Murphy nodded. "Maybe I was expecting someone else. A guy. Someone who would do it for money or something."

"Loise did it for a guy." Javier replied. "People do a lot of stupid things because of feelings."

Murphy looked askance at his friend, wondering for a moment if he was still talking about what was happening behind the office door, or if he was talking about something else. He didn't ask about that, though, instead he glanced back at the office where muffled screams could now be heard. The sound of tapping on machines and conversations stopped for a moment, but no one heard anything distinct.

"Williams is there, I'll ask him when he comes out." Steve finally stated. "Maybe we could jump on..."

The door opened abruptly and Messina walked out of it with a lively step, right behind her was you leading Loise. The woman's face was covered in fresh tear tracks, but yours was unreadable to Javier. You didn't even look in his direction, with your chin raised you led Loise down the corridor and soon you all disappeared.

Peña and Murphy stood up almost simultaneously and as soon as the floor seemed safe they glanced into the office where Williams was filling out some paperwork.

"Hey. What's up?" Murphy asked, Javier slipping in after him.

Williams looked up at them and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "You already know, guys." He replied. "Loise was the one who was providing information from our office. Tough case, only this Agent could have come up with that."

"And the screaming?" Javier asked and noticed Williams shaking his head, smiling crookedly.

"You know," he replied. "Women. Loise tried everything to undermine her position. She called her the office's number one whore, said she spread her legs for anyone and for any information. She threw up everything and Messina finally told her to shut up." his mouth twisted in a strange grimace, but when he spoke there was admiration in his voice. "I don't know how she did it, and then endured it all with a straight face. I would have exploded. Loise will hear the charges, she'll be flying back to the States on the next plane." 

Murphy looked at Peña and they both left the office. They knew that what had been said would soon be known to everyone in the office. Every word Loise said would be repeated, even the words she said about you. There was a fear that instead of success and a pat on the back, you would once again hear whispers behind your back, because people would wonder how much truth there was in Loise's words.

Javier felt even worse, now he was one of them.

It was after midnight when a knock on the door woke you up. For a moment you ignored the sound, hoping that some resident had had a few too many drinks and simply got the wrong door, but eventually when the knocking continued, you stood up and pulled on your robe. You reached the door in the dark and opened it just wide enough for the safety chain.

"Peña." you mumbled, resting your forehead against the door, "It's late."

"I had to." he mumbled, looking around the hallway, "Can we talk?"

"I don't know. Can we?"

"Please, I know I screwed up. I don't want to leave it between us like this."

Your eyes were judgmental, or at least that's how he felt. You stared at him, considering his words, but eventually you took off the chain and opened the door wider. He walked in and a familiar scent filled his nostrils, your scent, the scent of your place.

"I heard Loise is coming back to the States. You did a good job." he said as you closed the door and leaned back against it, folding your arms across your chest.

"I know." you replied coldly.

Javier shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You didn't need his praise, you didn't need any man's praise, because you knew you were good at what you did.

But despite everything, you didn't roll your eyes, you didn't scold him. You waited, or rather gave him a chance.

"I should apologize." he finally began. "I reacted... fucking idiotically." you tilted your head. "I wanted to surprise you, and when I didn't find you at home... Your neighbor told me you went out and looked nice. I thought... I fucked it up, I know. I was scared that you... that you might have... with someone..."

A small wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows as you furrowed them. "Were you jealous, Peña? About me?"

He shrugged, he was a grown man, and for a moment you had the impression that a teenager was standing in front of you. "Maybe, does it matter?"

"I don't know, does it?"

Your eyes met and something inside you twitched. If Javier felt jealous, that could explain his behavior.

"You know..." you began slowly, unraveling your arms and pushing your messy hair out of your face. "I was mad that you thought I could do what you thought. I mean, since when...we do what we do, I never..."

"I know." He interrupted you quickly. "I was an idiot. I felt so fucking insecure, because I really feel good around you. You're so much more, you know."

You raised your eyebrows, surprised by his confession. "Do you have a soft spot for me, Agent Peña?"

Javier rolled his eyes and lowered his head, trying to hide the smile that appeared on his lips. "You're good, you know? So fucking good."

You pouted and shrugged. "I know. And you? What are you like, Javier?"

He took a few slow steps towards you. His shoes stood on either side of your bare feet, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the remnants of his cologne and cigarettes dripping down to you. 

"I think I'm at a disadvantage. How could I possibly compete with you, huh?" His fingers brushed your thighs, then climbed up your hips, squeezing them lightly. "What have you done to me, hermosa? I barely recognize myself."

"I hope Murphy gave you hell on this trip." You mumbled, smiling.

"Oh, yes! He's taken it to his limits. He kept wondering out loud why you even looked at me."

"You've got a nice ass in those tight jeans."

A sly smile appeared on Javier's face, he raised a cocky eyebrow. "Are you watching my ass, hermosa?"

"I'm watching your back, Agent Peña." His lips barely brushed your cheek, his warm breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Good thing you asked. Yes, please."

Your lips met in a sweet kiss, tender and gentle. Your hands climbed up his neck and slid into his soft hair, and when you parted your lips without hesitation he slid his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. His body pressed against yours and in that moment you had no way of escaping. You didn't even consider it.

"You know she's too good for you, right?" Murphy smirked.

"Shut the fuck up." Javier muttered, throwing his cigarette butt on the pavement and crushing it with his shoe.

"I'm just saying." Steve shrugged and checked his watch.

He leaned against the car door next to Peña, the sun warming their backs, but they were both staring at the embassy door where you had disappeared almost an hour ago. After Loise flew to the States, you had to sign a few more documents and promise that the information about the mole in the office would not get out beyond the people in the department. 

Javier thought it was stupid, but he couldn't fight the bureaucracy, and he didn't want to keep repeating it to you. You had been getting along really well for a few days, he didn't want to ruin it.

Even though Murphy teased him every chance he got, Javier knew he was right. He felt that you were too good for him, but despite everything, he was the one who made that incredible smile appear on your lips. It was in his arms that you fell asleep almost every night, that had to mean something.

"Connie wanted me to ask if you both would come over for dinner on Sunday." Murphy spoke again. "What do you think?"

"Have you already told her about us?"

"And what did you think, that I would keep it to myself?! Jesus, she thinks the same way as me..."

"It's her."

The doors of the embassy opened and you walked out onto the sunny street with some man. He shook your hand and exchanged a few more words with you. It took Javier a moment to realize that something was wrong. A car that was parked under another building screeched towards you.

"Fuck!" Steve hissed when he noticed that one of the passengers had drawn a gun. "Get down! Get the fuck down!"

The shots from Javier's and his guns mixed with those fired towards the embassy entrance. Panic broke out on the street. The screams of people mixed with the sounds of a car that bounced off one of the cars parked nearby and started to flee. Meanwhile, Murphy and Peña ran towards the embassy building. The whole situation made it so that they didn't see if you reacted, but when they were closer…

"Jesus Christ! Call an ambulance!" Javier growled when he reached you.

You managed to hide behind a car parked nearby, but you weren't fast enough. The blood stain on your side was growing with every passing moment.

"They hit him too! Fuck!" Steve's scream reached Javier's ears. "What about her?"

"She's bleeding like hell." Javier hissed, lifting your shirt and revealing the gunshot wound. He pressed it hard, and you groaned in pain. "I know, I know, babe. The ambulance is on its way."

His hands began to cover in blood. The seconds dragged on endlessly. He saw you weakening with each passing moment.

"Stay with me, hermosa. Don't even dare close your eyes!"

But he had no control over that. He had no control over anything anymore.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @qpiiee @missladym1981 @axshadows @djappleblush @picketniffler @txmel @wowitsafemale @cheekychaos28 @underneath-the-sky-again @misstokyo7love

[fioreofthemarch]

heart flow

This was written for @zelinkcommunity's Loftwing Letters 2025, and is for @hyylia! Words: 1640 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / Tears of the Kingdom Characters: Link/Zelda

It’s a high moon tonight. The rising paths and nestled buildings of Hateno are drowned in its rays. Three days until the full moon, and the harvest festival to celebrate it. 

It’s a welcome light. Link straddles the top of an unsteady ladder, glad to be able to see clearly so late into the evening. He’s been helping string lantern lights across the main thoroughfare of Hateno, but he’s done his bit, securing his end to the mossy roof of Cece’s shop. The string slackens and tightens as his counterparts at the general store struggle with their end. “We’ve nearly got it, Master Link”, one of them calls out. He’s content to wait.

Behind him, inside Cece’s shop, the women of the town have gathered. He can hear feet thumping lightly on the wooden floor, the beating of a drum, and a muffled shouting: and step, and step, one, two! For the festival, the men hang the lights, and the women do the dance. There are giggles, more shouts, more giggles. He wonders if he can pick Zelda’s laugh among them. 

“I’m really not much of a dancer,” she had said, multiple times, but they wouldn’t have it. He pictures her in there now, golden hair tied into a plait, cheeks flushed, spinning and smiling. 

Link frowns. The moon above is harsh, exacting: why not just tell her? He’s been wondering that for a year, since she returned into his life, into all their lives, and set about filling the land with her radiance. 

Practice is over. The women stream out of the building towards their homes, Zelda among them. She is flanked by two others, chatting amicably as they approach. 

He could do it now. He could descend the ladder and tell her plain and clear. Did you know that you are perfect? That I love every single thing about you?

Zelda passes by the ladder and waves up at him. Link... waves back. And sighs. To the north, where the horizon meets sea, the dragon Naydra floats through the sky. 

---

“Finally autumn, after such a long summer!” Zelda says, looking up at the full moon.

“Indeed, and a dry winter to follow, from our observations,” says Symin beside her. 

“Oh. Hopefully we get some rain.” 

They stand together under the shade of an old tree, watching the townsfolk collect long timber beams from the construction site of the planned Hateno School, which is as yet unfinished. “These beams will be returned tomorrow, right?” Symin asks. 

“Of course. They just need them for the festival tent.”

“I hope so. I won’t teach from a tent.” 

Zelda smiles to herself. The only person in Hyrule more passionate about building the school than her is Symin. Well, except maybe–

“Master Link!” Symin calls out, rushing forward. He greets Link, who has slugged an entire beam over his shoulder with ease. “Please remind the others to be careful. This timber is pine, from Tabantha.”

“Sure,” Link answers, but still Symin cranes his neck towards the centre of town, sighing and fussing as he watches his priceless timber being carted away.

“Why don’t you remind them yourself?” Zelda offers. 

“Indeed! I'd better!” Symin says, and kicking up a little dust he marches into town, leaving Link and Zelda to speak alone. 

Only, Zelda never knows what to say to Link. What can she say, to the one who saved her life, saved all their lives? Her gratitude always feels cloying and sticky in her mouth.

“It’s going well?” she asks.  

“Yes.” He lowers the beam to the ground. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I – are you looking forward to tonight?”

He pauses, seeming unsure. Maybe he dreads it as much as she does. “I am.”

“I’ll be dancing, you know."

“I know.”

“It’s so ridiculous.”

Link smiles, a look that makes her want to melt. “I don’t think so.” 

For a moment they stare at one another, and everything Zelda has wanted to say nearly rushes out. That he should have his own life, that he doesn’t have to live where she lives. That he can have his house back and that it’s okay if he doesn’t feel anything for her, really. She is grateful just to be able to love him, because it means she is alive, and being alive was once a distant and fading dream– 

“I better go.” Link says. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes.” 

No other words come. After he is gone, she spots the goddess Naydra rounding the mountains to the north. Lady of wisdom, lady of love, she prays. Oh, save me from myself!

---

A harsh wind descends upon the town as the festival starts, rattling the lantern lights. Link helps hang the last of them between the dye shop and a water tower further up the hill. When he’s done, he heads to the festival tent. It shudders under every gust, but the townsfolk are determined. Their ragtag band of drummers and pipers are loud enough to drown out the wind.  

He keeps a low profile, sampling the food stalls one by one. It’s oppressively hot in the tent, the whole town crammed inside, but Zelda is nowhere to be seen. Maybe it’s for the better. Maybe the time to tell her what he feels has passed.  

Then there are three sharp beats of a drum, and the festival goers turn their attention to the centre of the tent. The women of the town gather, with Zelda at the front in a red dress and black leggings. They join hands, forming two long lines, and to the beat of the drum they dance, spinning and clapping. Link blushes as he watches, realising in his gloom he had forgotten the reason he came to the festival at all. When they are done, the women bow to whoops and cheers from the crowd, and in the chaos that follows as they disperse, Zelda appears in front of him with a hand outstretched. 

“There’s another dance. Join me?” she says. There’s a sort of giddiness to her, almost drunken. Is that what dancing feels like? He takes her hand, and wordlessly they step into the dancer’s circle. Maybe this is how he tells her. Maybe he simply sweeps her off her feet. 

Just as the world around them begins to fall away, a terrible crack rips through the air. It’s deafening. The ground shakes. Then another; thunder, beastlike and hungry, accompanied by flashes of lightning. Never letting go of his hand, Zelda hurries them outside, and they see the sky has darkened, clouds churning like the sea. There is shouting all around – everyone inside, quickly! It’s a storm! 

Another flash, as an arc of lightning strikes the general store. Then another hits the grass in front of them, the light blinding. Crack! When Link opens his eyes he is met with a wall of fire. The lightning has set the grass of the main thoroughfare alight, and the wind is blowing the flames towards the festival tent. 

“There's no rain,” Link says, drawing back. 

“A dry winter…” Zelda murmurs. “We have to do something!”

In the sky, just below the clouds, Link spots the dragon Naydra, seemingly undisturbed by the weather. “Can she help? Can you, I don’t know, call her–?” 

“No. How would I even– I mean I could try but –”

He takes her other hand, holding both between his. “Okay, it’s okay,” he says, waiting for her to calm. “We save ourselves.” 

Zelda nods, and they turn their attention back to the fire. Across the thoroughfare, Zelda seems to spot something. He follows her gaze, eyes drawn to the lantern lights, which are now mostly gone out. “The water tower?” he asks. Zelda answers by taking his hand and leading him away from the tent. 

They rush to a nearby stable shed, where Zelda finds two axes, placing one in Link's hands. Then she points to the water tower. It sits on three poorly made struts and is already shaking in the wind, water spilling over the edge of its wide metal tank. Link understands immediately, and can't help but laugh. Alright, Princess, let’s go destroy some public property. 

They run to the tower and begin chopping - one strut each. “We need them to come down at the same time!” Link says. 

“Then follow my lead!” 

She chants as they chop. And swing. And swing. One, two! Lightning flashes around them, and the fire rages towards the festival tent. One, two! One, two! Then there is a creak and a groan - the sound of snapping wood. Link drops his axe and dives toward Zelda as the whole structure collapses, unleashing a flood of water down the hill. 

They roll and tumble, caught in the wave, and come to a rest beside the festival tent, arms around each other on the muddy grass. Bewildered, the townsfolk stumble towards this spectacle; where there was once a fire, a wall of water has consumed it down to the embers. Seeing this, Link and Zelda hold each other close, and laugh and laugh. 

There is nothing else to be said. Zelda rests her head back on the grass, smiling up at Link. Now, he thinks, and catches that perfect smile with a kiss - a lingering, apologetic, long awaited kind, and though it tastes a little of earth and grass, it’s intoxicating. As more townsfolk gather, Link and Zelda pick themselves up and hurry out of sight -- to continue with this new means of communication they have discovered.

Inside the festival tent, the music starts again. Above, Naydra makes her rounds – where she flies the dark clouds split, and the full moon shines through bright and clear.

[autumnation]

getting really sentimental with the ocs today

[suntails]

⚔️👑

[social-cocoon]

Squid Game S2 spoilers

I think it was really interesting that the start of the season we see Gi-hun sort of running a tiny version of the Games. I saw the whole search as him, a wealthy man, offering less fortunate people money if they played a game with a big payout to the person or team who won. And the game was another children's game: hide and seek. He even had his own control room - his car with all the gadgets in it to monitor the "players". The main differences are that he wasn't purposefully sending them to their deaths over the money, they would all be paid so long as they participated, and the intent wasn't to exploit them.

The thought isn't going anywhere, I just think it's pretty neat