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avelera · 2 days ago

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Was wondering if you had any theories about Viktor's childhood experiences and how exactly that shapes his politics?

I agree that Viktor is largely apolitical and pacifist, and I'm getting the sense that perhaps he believes politics/the council is incapable of solving the issues. After all, they haven't so far, and Viktor does respect Heimerdinger, so rather than Heimerdinger choosing to look away, Viktor perhaps believes it is impossible to solve the problems in the undercity through the council.

When I first watched season 1, I truly had no clue how they were going to be able to resolve the political conflict. The council kind of sucks, but so does Silco, and I don't think Ekko was powerful enough to fully take over.

I can picture Viktor also having no clue. He refuses to make weapons because he knows they'll be used against innocent people in the undercity (and I think he's also opposed to violence as a solution in general), but at this point he doesn't have an alternative solution. He refuses to side with the council, but he doesn't have an alternative. I doubt he even knows Silco is in charge or that he's someone they might negotiate with at this point (I think the council only learns about Silco when Caitlyn returns), so instead he chooses to stay out of it.

And with his cult, I'm getting the sense Viktor still had no clue how to end the conflict between Zaun and Piltover, so he doesn't try, but instead tries to create a safe place for people who, like him, want to escape the violence. It obviously doesn't work out the way he intends, but I do think that was the idea, and perhaps he hoped because of the remote location and his peaceful seperation from society, no one would really bother him. And when they do, he concludes mass hive mind is the only answer to the violence (because he still had no clue how to resolve any of these conflicts)

And all this gives me the idea that Viktor really is desperate to escape that violence, and makes me wonder what he lived through during his time in the undercity that inspires his actions, since we know so little apart from the time he met Singed.

This got a little long, sorry about that, but wondering what theories you had.

I think there's a core assumption to the question that I'd like to isolate out in the hopes it helps me explain how I see Viktor's views.

There's an assumption inherent here that in political times, everyone must be political. But let me point out, most people are not. All you need to do is look at voting turnout numbers to see most people are not political, especially not at the local level where direct action happens. When was the last time anyone reading this voted in their local, municipal election? Do you even know when the next one is?

Now let me add another aspect to this: Piltover is not a democracy. It is by definition an oligarchy, in which power is held in the hands of a small, elite group.

So, in such a world, why would anyone like Viktor think it's even possible for an individual to impact politics? Which is why I think Viktor always saw the only way of impacting the world for the better as being through where his own gifts lay: in science.

But I do think it's more complicated than that. And I want to take the chance to further explore the political landscape as Viktor would have seen it throughout Arcane and why that would be enough to make him take zero interest in politics and have zero hope for its efficacy at solving the problems he wants to solve for people, and that he wants to solve for people regardless of their political background or national identity, because Viktor is shown to be colorblind when it comes to those concepts.

As far as we can tell, the only people with political power in Piltover are the 7 Councilor. The major Houses have some influence, but that's it. Minor Houses, like House Talis, can't even trade upon their meager levels of influence in their own son's trial. Ximena, the presumed matriarch of House Talis in the absence of any extended family for Jaye being shown, has to trade on sentiment. That's how little political power is spread around.

One thing that Vander and Silco were almost certainly pushing for in their protest at the bridge was for "Zaun" to have a political voice at all. This effort was ruthlessly quashed. The undercity doesn't have a representative on the Council, they don't have any Houses, they are effectively voiceless except through riots and protests.

And, as they say, those who make peaceful revolution impossible make violent revolution inevitable.

Furthermore, organized crime tends to spring up and flourish in places that don't have a law of their own, or a law that common people can rely on. See the Italian mafia in the US, which in part sprang up from the fact these communities needed to be self-governing and self-protecting because the official law of the land wouldn't protect them. But then, of course, the criminal forces that stepped into that power vacuum may gain wide acceptance for keeping the peace and providing other social services, but then in order to hold onto power, they're going to prevent the actual authorities from stepping into their territory. Once they have a hold there, there's no elections either, there's no way to cast out a malfunctioning organized crime unit that's providing those social services.

This is more or less what I think happened with Silco. He stepped in and created a society in the undercity, one that he was able to run because Piltover turned its attention outward with the Hexgates, it no longer needed to rely on the labor of the underclasses in the undercity so they left them to their own devices.

But Silco's government was corrupt. I think that gets lost in a lot of Zaun vs. Piltover debates. Silco's Zaun was just as much an oligarchy as Piltover, they had their own Council with the chem-barons who are directly paralleled in the "Sucker" sequence in 2.02. There is no "Piltover is better" or "Zaun is better" they are both corrupt.

Where in the world would Viktor get the idea that the solution to the political problems between Zaun and Piltover would be solved by handing more political power to people like Silco? Why in the world would he reach the conclusion that two oligarchies would be the solution?

And even in such a world where maybe, self-governance would help some people in the undercity, why in the world would Viktor believe he would personally be able to make that happen?

In a society with no democracy, when the one attempt to gain a voice for the undercity was ruthlessly quashed most likely while Viktor was still a student in the Academy, where in the world where Viktor have developed a sense that he could have impact on politics or wouldn't simply die in the attempt if he joined a political movement, thus improving nothing? And if you can't buy into politics in any meaningful way, why pay attention to it?

Viktor has found his keys to the kingdom in science. He has one avenue to excellence, which is solving the material difficulties facing the undercity like cleaning up the air and making the labor there less backbreaking and difficult. He has a narrow focus. Indeed, one of his flaws is that it's kind of "his way or the highway" he doesn't appear to even seriously entertain other avenues besides science for improving lives in the undercity.

This is particularly interesting because he was an assistant to Heimerdinger, albeit in his role as Dean of the Academy I believe. Yet Viktor doesn't see Jayce's role as a Councilor as an avenue towards meaningful change, why?

I genuinely can only speculate there. Why doesn't Viktor ever try to advocate for the undercity when he has access to Heimerdinger? Or, as two scientists, do both just see it as the role of science to better lives down there, rather than political action? Heimerdinger does seem remarkably politically disinterested for someone who is the nominal head of the government. All the wheeling and dealing happens behind his back. Perhaps Viktor is just as oblivious, who knows? Maybe Viktor's lack of political interest is what made Heimerdinger like him enough to employ him as his assistant in the first place.

Now to further answer your question, I'd say Viktor isn't even trying to politically solve anything because it's unthinkable that he would be able to. That's why the undercity independence play I think makes him cautiously optimistic, if you see his face during the vote right before the rocket hits. He never really thought politics could solve this but maybe it can. Maybe the key is to just let the undercity go its own way. I'd argue Viktor seems a bit skeptical when he announces that Jayce brokered a peace with Silco, I don't think Viktor likes Silco, or likes the idea of handing the reins of power to him. But he does appear optimistic when the vote begins to go that way, in I would argue is one of the rare positive political moments for Viktor (the only other that I can think of is when he speaks favorably of Vander's vision for Zaun).

Then the rocket hits, which must be a gut punch of further disillusionment. It's not just Piltover that's preventing Zaun's independence, it's Zaun, it's the cycle of violence, it's the fact that the conflict has gone on for so long and is so ugly that a solution is no longer possible without more bloodshed.

This inevitable bloodshed includes Jinx and Cait's forces wiping out the remaining chem barons, thus in my opinion making the conflict a moot point, because there's no one on the other side to negotiate with anymore. There is no potential Zaun government anymore if there's no one to hand power to, there's no democracy to set up (not in Piltover either, so there's no example of one). Zaun dies with Silco and goes back to being the undercity, an impoverished community within Piltover. Its Shimmer economy dies, which was the only technology that gave it a prayer of competing with Piltover on the battlefield too.

Quick aside, I get that people are mad there isn't more Zaun vs. Piltover in S2, but that's already dead as a conflict in 2.03. Zaun gets decimated as a political player. It has no leadership, no weapons, nothing that allows it to act as an independent state anymore. Piltover won and it did so because Jinx's rocket gave them the motivation they needed to cut off the head of the snake, the snake Jayce was willing to negotiate with to give them their independence.

That's gone now. There is no Zaun. There's no one to give power to. There's no military, no forces, no money. It is not a state anymore. Sevika is trying to rally the various disaffected factions in 2.04 and even that is slow going because of the old internal hatreds. And even if everyone did rally, all Sevika is hoping for is to make enough of a cohesive Zaunite identity to be able to bring grievances to Piltover. She can't even organize that. Zaun doesn't have an identity anymore in 2.04, and not enough internal organization to begin to form anything resembles a town council let alone the government of a nation.

So in that backdrop, where in the world would Viktor have any notion that he can impact events with politics? Or any desire to when the most promising political hope Zaun had, which he had a hand in, was destroyed the second it arrived by a Zaunite who didn't want the deal? This is a difficult, intractable problem.

Of course Viktor would see the best way to "solve" this problem is to not engage with it at all. It's to sidestep it entirely. Go back down to the individual level, help those in need, give them a place away from conflict in which to flourish and live peaceful lives. He essentially starts a monastery during the political Dark Ages of the collapse of order in the undercity, a very natural human response.

Then, he decides the best way to solve this problem is just to stop it. Get everyone on the same side, even if it's into a hivemind. That's why he's willing to take poor shimmer addicts from Zaun like Huck and rich Councilors like Salo from Piltover.

I also think his view is informed by his parallels in the real world in that he's apolitical because he's a scientist, and to a scientist all these lines of caste and creed and nation are meaningless on a biological level, we are all people. That's how I think Viktor sees it. It's part of why I think too, somewhat speculatively, that Viktor only talks about being from the undercity as a place of origin for him, not as an identity, because I think he thinks all such identities are nonsense, they're missing the point of the general advance of humanity, something many scientists around the world feel. I'm more quick to ascribe an attitude I see amongst scientists, engineers, and astronauts to Viktor than I am to ascribe a political identity to him. I don't think he sees political identities are relevant.

For example, besides noting Jayce's privilege when they first meet, he never denounces Jayce as being from Piltover or sees it as a barrier to them working together. He never singles out details of Jayce's identity by birth as being relevant. Because such details are meaningless in science. He only even brings up Jayce's background, I think, the one time when they first meet to point out to Jayce that while he has lost the benefits of his patron and House Talis name, there's still a path forward for him, the one Viktor started with. He mentions it as a reason that Jayce doesn't need to commit suicide when he loses those things. But he doesn't blame Jayce for having them.

At no point, even when Jayce is othering the people of the undercity, does Viktor other him right back as being from Piltover. In my view, Viktor's response is actually, "Hey, a member of your in-group is also from the undercity, stop framing everyone from there as outgroup/other, you know better than this." And Jayce immediately acknowledges that Viktor is right. They are immediately back on the same page that political identity lines are meaningless when it comes to improving lives (aside, real world people who play identity politics do realize we're all aiming for a world where everyone can flourish regardless of their identity, right??).

However, he does admire those like Vander who imagined a peaceful end to the conflict by establishing a nation of Zaun, however it should be noted, I think Viktor saw Vander's effort as inspiring but tragically doomed to failure. Hence, the need for Glorious Evolution, when the most well-intention dreams have no hope of ever happening. Seeing people like Vander fail is part of the disillusionment that makes Viktor further decide to disregard and supersede all politics through his own scientifically endowed magical power.

So anyway I hope this very long, involved essay helps explain a bit better how I view Viktor's politics, specifically his lack of them.

Edit: I just realized you also asked about Viktor's childhood. I have less to say there because we know so little but I would add:

Viktor was othered by people in the undercity as well as people from Piltover. I think that would lend to his view that people are just people, there are no real lines of politics or point of origin that matter. People will isolate him for his disability in both. No one is better than anyone else. It's just that people in Piltover by and large have more resources than those in the undercity, but both will look down on someone like him and avoid him.

You also have the fact that Viktor emigrated to Piltover presumably while still fairly young, either a teen or a young man, one would guess, based on his intellectual ability. I don't think he inherently sees the two cities as being separate, more like just two different areas of town, one of which is disadvantaged. Like moving from a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn to Manhattan. If Brooklyn began to lobby to become its own city or state, separate from Manhattan, some would see that as a good thing from self-governance perspective, others might see it as nonsense, which is where I think Viktor would mostly fall, but more importantly, I don't think he has faith that Brooklyn and Manhattan becoming separate states would really solve anything that matters, when the issues are things like air filtration systems, which can be solved with science.

As for things like, did young Viktor face violence? I think if he did, it would just add to his sense that a lack of resources breeds violence and the undercity needs prosperity to flourish, prosperity brought by scientific innovation. Politics again isn't going to solve these problems.

And I would finally add, Viktor found success and a sense of belonging in Piltover. I don't think he's as down on the place as people make him out to be sometimes. Jayce is from Piltover. Heimerdinger is too, these are two people who accepted Viktor and arguably who have loved him. I think as a result, Viktor would just see Piltover and the undercity as two places of origin within one city, a city he belongs to and wants to help improve by focusing on those in need.

#viktor arcane #jayvik #arcane meta #arcane #piltover #zaun

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twopoppies · 2 days ago

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Gina, I want to tell you I have been reading your blog for a couple years now. I’ve never sent an ask to anyone. I first came into the fandom when I watched Harrychella and I thought hmm this man isn’t just flagging he is screaming at the top of his lungs. Then I watched the Cosmic Leeds videos and I fell down a rabbit hole. I am not someone who believes “conspiracy theories”. I am however old enough to know closeting has been proven to exist in the entertainment industry. I’m also from a rural area of the U.S. where homophobia is the norm, so unfortunately I had no trouble believing closeting still exists. I went into full information gathering mode about Larry Stylinson, but it was more than that too. I fell in love with 1D and all the boys’ solo work, especially Louis. I loved his voice, his songwriting, and his ‘real’ personality (when he allowed it to shine through all the media training). I read through every tumblr I could, you and Daisie provided a wealth of information that can not be ignored. I feel certain that Larry was real and I hope they are still together. I’m not one of those people who never doubted. It would be hard not to second guess things in this fandom with all the gaslighting that goes on. I write all of this to say that I’ve never felt so sad and like there is no hope for change as I do right now. It feels like Louis’ fandom is falling apart. There is so much division, hate, and intolerance of any idea that doesn’t conform to someone’s own. Louis pr strategy honestly baffles me. A divided fandom is so tiring. It seems less like pr and more like intentional sabatoge, which I guess it could be. I just don’t see any way out for him or Harry. I think Harry’s extended break is partly because of this too. I think he was overworked and emotionally drained for many reasons, but closeting most of all is exhausting. If I’m feeling this way as a fan I can’t imagine how they must be feeling. It breaks my heart. Sometimes I hope I am crazy and Larry was never real because the story is just too sad. Don’t even get me started on bbg because it is the shittiest situation ever. I think I need to take a step back from the fandom for a bit. But this brings me to my point. I’m pretty resilient, I can not be the only person feeling this way. It makes me so worried for Louis’ career and for both Louis and Harry’s mental health. I guess I don’t really have an ask. I just wanted to say thank you for all the information you have provided over the years. And, I needed to get this off my chest. If I posted this on twitter I would be roasted and I’m not strong enough for that right now. I meant it when I said I fell in love with their music, so I will continue to support all the boys. I’m hoping there is a master plan that will eventually set them free. But, I just keep coming back to the line

‘Said I had a plan for us Time had came and changed it all We had to disappear 'Cause nothing gets through here’

I will add one more thing. I believe there are more Larries than people think, but we are tired of the gaslighting and the hate, so many of us step back or hide. This is why the industry wins most of the time. 😥

Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I'm sorry it feels so overwhelming right now. I do think taking a step back is probably really healthy for most of us. I've actually never seen the fandom in such shambles.

I don't know what Louis' plan is in terms of his fandom or his future plans. But I have dozens and dozens of sad, confused, and angry messages in my inbox, and that fucking sucks. I really don't see a way forward at the moment. I will say, though, that some of the upset stems from some people's tendency to lean into worst-case scenarios and amplify their own worries by jumping to conclusions. Then there are the shit-stirrers who try to make things worse by sending in fake receipts or theories. It's hard to stay grounded when there's insanity whirling around you.

As for Harry and Louis, I do tend to believe they're still together. I don't think their relationship has been as easy as many of us would like to believe – I don't think it could be, given their ages when they met and the conditions they've had to live with. I do think they're soulmates... soulmates don't always end up together, but I tend to think these two will make it. I certainly hope they do.

Our fandom never does well when the boys aren't active. I think if you want to get your sanity back, now is as good a time as any.

#current thoughts on larry #fandom dynamics #twitter blocks #louis' career

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iiannabxth · 2 days ago

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(since comments are off, i have to reblog lol.)

anywho, i wanted to add a little to this.

i disagree with the idea that wolfgang becoming the group’s leader was an ego thing. i think he decided to step up because he is used to having to defend and guide people. he immediately tries to calm the group and soothe their minds by insisting that they can all get along and life peacefully if they trust each other. unlike damon, he believes that all of their ultimates can benefit humanity, which shows that he does believe in them.

i also think that the whole “wolf/sheep” blackmail theme is a dig at wolfgang. while i personally believe that it has to do with his backstory (something about his father being a bad person & doesn’t want to be like him, etc), i think it’s to make fun of him for trying to lead the group.

like a shepherd guiding a flock of sheep, the shepherd knows that there are dangers outside, but his job is to keep the sheep save and act like everything is fine.

back to his parallel to eva, what wolfgang is easily able to do is get the others to trust him. i think both eva and wolfgang had the intelligence and leadership skills to be powerful voices in the group, but because wolfgang is able to read the room and expresses more hopeful views than eva, he provides more comfort as a leader. though eva is technically right, that they really can’t trust anyone because they’re in a killing game, it clashes with the group’s attempts at an optimistic outlook.

in my opinion, the reason that eva is immediately a black sheep is because she titles herself the ultimate liar. she singles herself out by deliberately trying to put distance between herself and the others. this, coupled with her pessimism and outwardly cold demeanor, cause the others in the group not to trust her because she obviously doesn’t trust them.

it’s clear from the jump that eva doesn’t trust the others (apart from damon because he shares her beliefs) which makes them not trust her. in her attempt to protect herself from judgement, she ended up inspiring more of it from her peers.

she is kicked out of the group because she actively shows that she doesn’t want to be grouped with them. in wolfgang’s view, she’s a threat to the harmony he’s trying to cultivate, which makes her a threat. while he isn’t actively nasty to her, he doesn’t stop the others from pushing her away.

this is also parallel to damon. eva and damon are similar and couple up together as a sort of “us vs them” kinda situation. however, damon manages to recover a bit of his reputation because he interacts with the others more often. he proves that he can cooperate with them and that, while he doesn’t entirely trust them, he isn’t a threat. eva, on the other hand, makes no attempts to reach out to anyone besides damon.

anyway, there’s more but i’m tired of writing. this is not as eloquentlt written as i wanted but oh well. i love ur analysis and i just love seeing these discussions in the fandom ^^

Wolfgang's deceit and hypocrisy

A deconstruction and analysis of Wolfgang's behavior based on what he said and did during Chapter 1

I kept thinking about why Damon didn't exactly get along with Wolfgang because it seems obvious that he doesn't like him due to Wolfgang's somewhat pompous attitude towards the idea of Ultimates. Wolfgang contrasts Damon's view of Ultimates in that Wolfgang believes all talents are equally valuable to society, and Damon doesn't.

Wolfgang says he doesn't believe anyone there was capable of murdering their "friends" and that the killing game wouldn't even kick off because he believed in the inherent goodness of Ultimates as a whole.

Damon disagreed with this notion and believed everyone had the capacity for violence regardless of their Ultimate status or not. He also disagreed with the idea that all talents are equally valuable to society and that some are more frivolous in nature than others.

Wolfgang believed in a lot of "hopeful" ideals however, I don't think he was telling the truth when he said these things. His actions spoke louder than all of those inspiring speeches he gave to the rest of the class.

In fact, I think Wolfgang agreed with everything Damon said, but he didn't want to admit it for some reason. Wolfgang said he believed in a fair trial and letting people explain themselves, but when Eva claimed she was the Ultimate Liar he immediately resorted to turning the others against her by casting suspicion on her.

He said he believed that all talents are equal in value, but when Eva was revealed to be the Ultimate Mathlete, he didn't stop any of the others from mocking Eva over it. (I will also point out that while as hilarious as Cassidy's Bargain Bin joke is at Damon's expense, he doesn't tell her off for making said joke at all either.)

And Wolfgang said he didn't believe anyone there would kill anyone, but he was constantly taking "precautions" for the Killing Game. "Just in case" someone decided to do something. He agreed with Desmond's idea of bunking together, he at first doesn't want to investigate the pharmacy but decided it's a good idea to let everyone know what's inside anyways, and when he got the mysterious letter telling him to meet in the boiler room he brought a knife with him from the kitchen "for protection" supposedly.

Wolfgang says a lot of things that he clearly doesn't believe, him and Damon are exactly alike. But the difference is that Damon is honest in how he feels about the Killing Game and Wolfgang is not.

Where his hypocrisy comes in is how he judges Damon for his honesty, and makes it seem like he too isn't distrustful of others during the game. And I think the reason for why Damon specifically doesn't like Wolfgang is not just because he is a hypocrite but because he's purposeful about his hypocrisy. He isn't like the rest of the class in his hypocrisy in that he's not doing it by accident, he's doing it on purpose because it keeps him in control of the group.

And the funny thing about it is that it's kind of Damon's fault that the others adopted Wolfgang as their defacto leader. During the mock class trial, Damon was the one who defended Wolfgang's integrity and instinct as a lawyer to get the others to continue to believe in him so they could solve the murder.

But Damon didn't defend Wolfgang because he had some belief in the inherent goodness of Ultimates. He did it because Damon believed Wolfgang's *talent* as a lawyer is proof enough that he's well versed in situations like this. It wasn't about Wolfgang as a person, but his ability as a lawyer. And I think this is why when Damon just says what he thinks Wolfgang is confused by it because he thought Damon was like the rest of the class, hopeful and naive.

And obviously, later on Wolfgang states that he sees people, Ultimates, as more than just their talent. But I don't believe him. I think from the way he treated both Eva and Damon that he silently agreed on the idea of some talents being lesser than others. And he just puts himself in the position of not believing in what Damon says because it's unpopular with the rest of the class.

Wolfgang can subtly take all of the credit for solving Cara's murder, while Damon gets no recognition and because Damon has an unpopular opinion about Ultimates and Talents and the Killing Game, Wolfgang can become their leader very easily (which is exactly what happened)

But he doesn't truly believe in any of it, he's a biased person through and through who has his own selfish goals, and egotistical opinions just like Damon. I think he just didn't come out and be honest because being honest would've shafted him with the likes of Eva and Damon.

Wolfgang is leading them all with blind optimism, when he himself isn't that optimistic. I think this is why his Blackmail letter mentioned him having a Wolfish mind as well, because he is essentially a wolf in sheep's clothing leading a herd of sheep to their potential doom. Keeping them in the dark on purpose so he can continue to be seen as the leader and beacon of hope.

And if you think "Wolfgang wouldn't be that self centered to do this" I think he is, purely because of how he behaved during his death. Diana mentioned him saying things about being seen as great, trying to prove himself to someone, and not being able to measure up to another person.

I think Wolfgang is the exact type of person who would feed on other people's admiration in a situation like this. "It doesn't matter if they believe in me for a foolish and naive reason, because they believe in *me*. And as long as they have their faith in *me*, nothing else about this situation matters. Anyone who doesn't put their faith behind my ability to lead is irrelevant and isn't a part of the group."

(hence why Eva and Damon were constantly shafted by Wolfgang as outsiders)

#p:eg spoilers #p:eg chapter 1 #wolfgang akire #damon maitsu #eva tsunaka #project eden's garden #p:eg

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alexanderwales · 1 day ago

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Pitchposting: Retcon

The main idea is this: it's a narrative game where the majority of the gameplay involves placing the pieces of your own past.

This is at least partially lifted from some tabletop games that have "retcon inventory" or "retcon friends" where you declare in the middle of play "oh, actually, it's plausible that I had prepared for this all along, and here's how I did in fact do that", even if the player would have had no way of knowing what was necessary for that. (I have not had a chance to play Blades in the Dark, but I've been told that it features this heavily.)

So the whole game would be this: slowly adding to your own backstory, penning yourself in over time, until there's no room to maneuver anymore, and shortly thereafter, the game ends. The fundamental tension of the game is that you want to keep the character as amorphous as possible, to commit to as few details as possible, but commitment is necessary to actually accomplish things.

In my mind, there's a timeline of the character's life, and that's one of the main thing you're adding to. If you need them to have skill as a pickpocket, you need to account for that somewhere in the timeline, to define how and when they acquired that skill, and whatever time period that was suddenly becomes locked in place. Some level of proficiency in combat can be explained by a rough childhood or a hobby or just bits and pieces picked up here and there, but at a certain level you need to commit to having had multiple years of real world experience, a hefty bar slotted down into the timeline.

The basic appeal to me is that it sort of turns progression mechanics on its head. If you really wanted to, maybe you could slap everything onto the timeline at once, an entire defined life with every memory, skill, and contact determined right at the start. But this would almost certainly sink you unless you knew every twist and turn of the game ahead of time. And in this game "progression" does not come from increasing skills because you got better, it comes from defining the past. (Though there's no reason you can't also have material progression as you acquire more and better things.)

This is also, somewhat, what the process of writing can be like. You nail down things piece by piece, and over time, you're penned in, unable to move except along the tracks you've hopefully laid for yourself, no ability to introduce new things.

I'm not entirely sure what kind of game this mechanic is best suited to. A narrative game would be interesting, but the player is attempting to define as little of the character's past as possible, and ... does this even work for a narrative? The player's version of events is that they're (more or less) trying to keep backstory from happening, that's baked into the concept. It creates an uneasy tension.

A less narrative game, like an immersive sim, might work better. You decide that you spent at least three years as a thief in order to "gain" (i.e. have always had) lock-picking skills, with enough room in the timeline that you can add an extra few years if need be later on.

And of course this works for skills, but it also works for relationships, which I think is fun. In a normal RPG type game, you gain relationship points over time by being a good buddy, but with this framework, you would be revealing backstory that was "there all along". And depending on your needs, you can have this be different backstory, giving certain side characters the same amorphous nature, establishing different relationships with them.

The other option (since I'm a writer, not a game designer) is to try to import this idea into a work of written fiction, which ... might work?

You have your protagonist, and they know that they're a reality-warping amorphous blob, but they have some kind of goal, and they will lock in whatever backstory they need in order to accomplish that goal, while trying to stay cognizant of the fact that whatever backstory they give themselves (and the reader) is going to pen them in further. Maybe there's a nice little magic system to make of it, though I think that would necessitate some kind of reset mechanism.

It might be hubris, but I think I could probably find the structure that would make it work. Cool scenes:

The protagonist is acting in such a way to leave all his options open, which means that he wants to avoid a fight because that would mean either confirming that he can fight or that he can't fight, collapsing the superposition, so he's going out of his way to not have to make that decision.

The protagonist retroactively was always friends with a police officer who took him in, making all the chilly conversation they've been having the result of an ongoing grudge.

The protagonist takes a big swing and fills in a whole swath of his past at once, a major investment ... and one that upends his stated goals up to this point, recontextualizing the entire novel and making it "about" someone else.

Plus all that "standard" stuff to do, like retroactively knowing how to ride a motorcycle, handle a gun, hold breath for two minutes, etc.

I don't know, I think that it could work in prose, so long as you're clever enough about how and why you're doing things, and correctly explaining things to the audience.

#pitchposting

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martsonmars · 2 days ago

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Hi friends! I keep committing and recommitting to making a serious effort to come back to the fandom, and I think this time finally I got my Snowbaz feelings back for real. So I'm going to try. Thank you to everyone who kept tagging me; I'm a little lost re: new people existing on Tumblr, but I hope to catch up!

So much to do in this post. For now, some snippets.

Exhibit A: my writing goal for the month. It's okay if it doesn't work out, but I decided I need short-term writing goals and this is my first one.

Baz pushes his sunglasses up his nose, staring at the man behind the counter of the shop. He hopes that hiding in plain sight—without his costume, without his mask—is a more effective disguise than trying to wear a fake moustache.

The apron is there, gloriously stretching over a broad chest that does not turn Baz's insides into soup and make him wish he could go back three—five, ten—years and do everything differently.

Exhibit B: COBB idea. I'm so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!

Going right is never the right choice.

I've known this since the first time my father brought me along on his travels (read: I hid in his trunk) and I had to face a crocodile armed only with a blunt Swiss Army knife I'd stolen from said trunk. All because I'd turned right. And then right again.

When he found me, scraped knees and his precious knife lost in the belly of the beast, he didn't even yell. He just looked at me like he always did. Like the biggest disappointment in his life of failures.

Exhibit C: potential second COBB idea, that I'm going to submit only if I make enough progress by the end of the month.

[Baz] holds my hand like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. Present. The minutes are trickling away from us like sand in a broken hourglass. The sun hasn't started rising yet, the night as dark as it gets, the cold seeping into our bones.

He holds my hand like he's afraid he'd float away if he didn't.

I know I'd be glad if it happened.

I have a lot of fandom resolutions for this year and I'm scared they'll end up like any New Year's resolutions... but I'll list them anyway. 6 resolutions Sunday:

Be more involved on Tumblr. I want to post more, but especially start reblogging and commenting on things again.

Write more. Last year I wrote so little and posted even less, and it made me sad when I realised it in the past days. So much was going on, so I don't blame myself, but I miss writing and I believe I can try to make it a regular thing again.

I want to read more fics. It's been years since I last read fics consistently. I missed everything!! Time to slowly catch up.

Relatedly, I want to try to comment more. I've never been a great commenter because it overwhelms me, but it's hypocritical since I need everyone and their brother to leave 10 paragraph long comments on everything I write... So I want to commit to doing better.

I want to try to publish a fic every month, at least. @palimpsessed suggested doing some sort of monthly countdown to Carry On's birthday in October and I'm all in.

I want to succeed at COBB. For one reason or the other, more often than not because I am cursed and I never finished writing my things, I've never managed to start and finish posting something for COBB. But I have two concepts I'm so excited about (not sure yet if I'll try both of them) and I want to commit to doing well. Wish me good luck.

My good old tagging list <3 I hope to add new people soon! But hi my dear old friends, how's it going?

@facewithoutheart @sillyunicorn @onepintobean @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @palimpsessed @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy @orange-peony @larkral @raenestee @stitchyqueer @hushed-chorus @technetiumai @brilla-brilla-estrellita @thewholelemon @theimpossibledemon @imagineacoolusername @blackberrysummerblog @theearlgreymage @rimeswithpurple @messofthejess @alexalexinii @whatevertheweather @jbrrring @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @best--dress @theotherhufflepuff @monbons @run-for-chamo-miles @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @dragoneggos @gekkoinapeartree @ionlydrinkhotwater @erzbethluna @shemakesmeforget @basiltonbutliketheherb @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @noblecorgi @j-nipper-95

#six sentence sunday #my writing

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snowyroads · 3 days ago

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Hi, since you’ve been dabbling with the idea of a JoeMarr mpreg, I was wondering what it would be like if Joe find out he’s pregnant during the season?

ohhh yes! i’ve had a wip collecting dust for months now in my drafts but this ask has motivated me to start writing it again 😭😭

tho just for clarity, i’ve never written an A/B/O fic IN MY LIFE 😗 so that’s why it’s taking me so long to work on it cuz i genuinely need to do some research for it 😭

BUT, now, imma go through a rant below the cut to answer your question anon!!🥰:

so personally, (even tho i LOVE reading some fluff) i like writing angst the most. just because it’s easier for me to channel anger instead of domestic love. (that’s sad as fuck ik😭) SO, with that being said, i think Joe would feel very conflicted about being pregnant mid season.

clearly Joe would have to miss the rest of the season since he’s pregnant yk?? and i think if it’s not planned he would really have a decision to make. he’d also go through the turmoil of having to tell Ja’marr and even tho Ja’marr ABSOLUTELY wants this baby, Joe’s worried about his reaction.

so Joe keeps it from him which just adds more angst to the whole situation and the entire time, Ja’marr knows something’s wrong with Joe, he can smell it cuz they’re mates ofc. they’re both in-tune with each other so much. Ja’marr constantly feels the back of his neck sweat and his stomach churns and he asks Joe constantly what’s wrong but Joe keeps silent. and he doesn’t mean to keep it a secret but everything’s moving too fast and it’s too much for him.

then, (because i love hurt/comfort) Joe would play in a game (even tho he definitely shouldn’t because he’s fucking pregnant and one wrong hit could mess a lot of things up) but he plays anyway and is off the entire time and everyone knows it. even the teammates, who go as far as asking Ja’marr “what’s wrong with your mate?” to where Ja’marr just shrugs cuz he doesn’t fucking know and he’s pissed off now cuz Joe’s been hiding something from him.

finally, the big thing happens and Joe gets hit hard in the stomach. Ja’marr feels the hurt immediately, knows he needs to get Joe tf out of there and drags him off himself and sits him on the bench. Joe’s obviously freaking out now cuz he’s hurt and somethings wrong. he doesn’t know what but somethings not right and he’s really praying it isn’t his baby.

and that’s when it comes out. right there. on the fucking sideline of a football game. “I’m pregnant”

Ja’marr feels all the emotions roll over too quickly and he doesn’t know whether to break down a cry or yell at Joe for playing while pregnant. neither of that matters tho cuz Joe’s getting whisked off by some athletic trainer that heard the whole conversation and takes him inside the stadium’s medical room. and Ja’marr’s just stood there like: 🧍‍♂️

and then Ja’marr would have to deal with that news in his head the entire game and then have to answer questions during the postgame presser about why Joe left mid game and why weren’t you connecting on your routes tonight?? stuff that he could care less about because his mate is pregnant and just came off the field with a bad hit to the stomach and he hasn’t seen him since.

that’s how my fic is currently playing out to be written 😗😭😭😭

but also Joe would be GLOWING while pregnant, so there’d be moments of that in there too!!! 🥰🥰

#did i yap too much orrrr #i have even more thoughts but i really can’t write em down for some reason #but this has moved up in the wip list #lmaoo😭😭#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #jamarr chase #joemarr #ao3 #football rpf #anon ask

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genderlessjacky · 2 days ago

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yayy finally im finally done!!! I hope we are the same timezone and I didn't accidentally submit this late 😭

Holmes!! The sharpshooting Rodger with a littleee but of trust issues and I adore him . He is the kind of dad to have Pavlov's dogs himself to say "language" whenever anyone is swearing an probably owns a swear jar. But don't worry, he loves both his children equally. He may not be able to keep up with a few of the smarter Rodgers in terms of intellect but he can hold his own in a mission decently well and he's more streetsmart anyways (Holmes says in an attempt to comfort himself)

(also , Sherlock Holmes , Holmes , get it??? I'm so funny I know)

Big brother of the year award goes too... SOMEONE ELSE because it's certainly not Shrimpo "DONT KICK IN YOUR 8 YEAR OLD BABY SISTERS TEETH" Rodger . He pretends to not care and at times he really doesn't. It's giving Dipper pines meets bakugo (which I'm not sure if that's accurate because I have only seen like , 2 seasons of MHA) meets knuckles and with a sprinkle of abandonment issues . It took him a decently long time to warm up to his adoptive family but it was all worth it (sort of)

(when I tell you I really did try my best to come up with an Augmented Ability for him 😭 I hope this isn't too OP...)

Edit : nvm , Shrimpo uses 80% of his energy instead and that it effects a whole area of twisteds around him , like it effects any twisteds who hear it even if he direct it at them , and that it can be mixed , like a twisted brightney and Gigi can run away while the rest start CHASING him

The baby of the family!! The one who Shrimpo taught how to swear!! Toodles!! She occasionally gets an existential crisis because of her ability but it's finee. She warmed up the fastest to people, this social little scumbag is the sole reason why her brother is NOT fully social inept

Edit: SO sorry that I'm changing my mind this much but I'd like to add like , she can just duplicate only parts of herself for way less energy, like she can duplicate just an arm as a emergency weapon for 7% energy and only her head to use as a projectile weapon for 9% energy ectect and ofc they will still hurt but yes she can duplicate multiple

(Another idea of an Augmented Ability I have to her is basically beginners luck in a larger scale , she can boost a random 'stat' of her fellow toons in a certain radius by 20% and it reduces her own energy by 20% but I went for this one instead but if you think the duplicate thing is too overpowered, feel free to use this :))

more beneath the cut <3 (pls read I spent SO much time on these doodles)

An idea I have for their background:

If it matches the lore , I'd say they joined an operation that wasnt gardenview, a different operation that was far more weaker and far away from said Gardenview , Holmes and Toodles and a couple of others were the sole survivors of the weaker operation after they got overwhelmed by a large Wave of twisteds and Shrimpo got kicked out of his own survivors group for being too aggressive and nearly leading them to their own death . After Toodles and Holmes wandered for about 3 months they met Shrimpo and the journey begins there . They reach Gardenview in about, I'd say two - three and a half years

Please ignore that fact that it's disgustingly obvious that I have practically never done digital art before 😞🙏

Pov: a single father of two rediscovers what coffee is (don't read the text too closely 😞, I mostly copy pasted a theory about ichor that I really liked and added a bit of details myself , I know I'm lazy I'm sorry)(also ignore that Cosmo said E-1, I rrly want him and his kids to be in D-1 🙏)

I have a mini comic I'm in the middle of drawing of how Shrimpo and Toots would work together in an actual mission and I'll reblog said comic on this post after I finish it and hope and pray you actually see it 😢

Fun facts about them (I'll probably add more when it's not , midnight)

In terms of fighting, I'd say Shrimpo is definitely melee and short ranged, if I decide to give him weapons it will definitely be very Vi from arcane coded

Rodger is defo long ranged sharp shooter, a sniper sort of guy , if he had to fight up close he could hold his own but he would mostly rely on his robot arm

Toodles is more agile think, very sonic or Spiderman esk , jumping around and dodging/ luring the twisteds

Rodger also has phantom pain sometimes and doesn't really know what it is (yet) so sometimes his arms just starts hurting a lot and he's like "oh, I guess that happens now" and doesn't tell anyone

Rodger got lost his arm during the incident where his old operation got destroyed

Toodles and Shrimpo have matching bite marks from eachother, it's how they differentiate eachother from a crowd

They are very "Dad said I can come!!" "YOU ARE NOT COMING ON MY DATE-" coded

honestly, I can Shrimpo tagging along with toodles and her new friends in Gardenview until he finds his own group

Rodger used to spend a lot his time researching ichor obsessively because he lost a lot of loved ones during the fall of his old operation (like a lot of the Rodgers and probably also A1 Rodger) but slowed down a LOT a while after he took in Shrimpo

Rodger didnt know how to take care of two kids at first , it wasnt until Shrimpo almost died because of his own recklessness that he decided "hey I already lost a lot of people, I need to take care of the ones I have" and stepped up , he isn't perfect but he tries

I'd like to think Rodger gets a lot of "you took in...a SHRIMPO????" From the group of people he hangs out with

Shrimpo is a decent mechanic, like not enough that he can build a robot from scratch metal but enough that he can build a working metal arm for Holmes out of broken twisted robot parts

Also their 'last name' is Rodger , like Toodles Rodger and Shrimpo Rodger , but he only uses when they are in REAL trouble like "SHRIMPO RODGER GO TO YOUR ROOM"

Also if it matches the lore , I also like to think , to save up energy and ichor , the people running Gardenview saw them come in , clinging onto eachother and went "huh... they seem close" and put Toodles and Shrimpo in the same room with a bunkbed to preserve energy , screaming matches insue

(and if you're reading this like :why is she so not normal ab them?? Well it's because I have a little brother who acts a lot like how I think toodles will act but a lot more annoying and I think I'm just projecting ngl)

Small little Event!

Hey hey, hope you’re all having a great holiday.

This little event will be running until 1.6.2025.

Im sure some of you have noticed team D and E have never been mentioned- and that’s because I’ve been waiting to host this event!

I’m choosing 11- yes 11 toons that YOU GUYS MAKE to add to Operation Ichor!

Of course, other toon submissions will show up as background characters within the comic.

Q1: How does the character sheet look?

Something like this, it being colored is optional. But I mainly just need design, personality, and ability on your sheet. Keep in mind you’re mostly choosing from the 20 in game characters (No, spoiler characters aren’t accepted, only ones in game!) and adding accessories on them.

You can make a whole team if you want too, just please keep it as one reblog if you can.

Q2: Are OC Toons allowed?

Yes, but please keep in mind they have a lower chance of being chosen just because dealing with different abilities and designs gets complicated (as if the 20 toons Dandy’s world has isn’t already enough)

Here’s the sheet for those who want to join.

Please use (#opich event) and/or just reblog this post with your submission

Disclaimer:

Any toon submitted will STILL BELONG TO THE OWNER, I have no intentions of stealing your amazing creations.

Do note; with the grim nature of this story, toons die a lot and yours might as well, if you don’t want that to happen- don’t submit.

And don’t be discouraged by your art, I love all your works and you’re all super talented :).

#Art #operationichor #Operation ichor

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emmebearpaw · 3 days ago

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I love coming up with ideas for AUs and even love thinking about writing them. Got an idea for a fake genshin major event, you know, like the big story event of a version, and I want it to be a sequel to Roses and Muskets, where now Inazuma is having a film festival. I don’t have the cast 100% shaken out, but I know the genres for the, get this, not one but Two movies we hear about during the event.

Kaiju. Specifically in the sense that Kaiju are a great way to talk about a cultural anxiety. The thought of this event came from talking with @awellreadmannequin about another idea for a new world boss quest, so the kaiju in this event are both based on world bosses.

To start the event the traveler would get a letter from Xavier saying he’s filming a new movie in tandem with the Kamisato clan in Inazuma for Inazuma’s upcoming cross cultural film festival and he want to know if the traveler would like to help out on set again. He has an actual budget this time, and a full crew and actors and there is no murder investigation on. And I want the film to feature the Maguu Kenki as a representation of the shogunate during the events of the AQ (hereby referred to as the civil war). The Maguu Kenki is a good representation of what I described as the “upending sense of stability” I think occurred during the war, a desperate, forceful attempt to make everything stay still. I don’t know the full cast for this movie but Gorou/Miss Hina should be in it because Xavier thought it relevant to include someone from Watatsumi to play the stand in character represented them and Kokomi is not available to go act in a movie.

while Xavier feels he’s doing a good job at including Watatsumi, however, I think the script should reveal something different. Because the character Gorou/Miss Hina plays is honestly more of a hindrance to the protagonists (who are stand ins for the yashiro backed Narukami based resistance movement or stand ins for the yashiro commission themself), and, really, there is a vibe that if totally not Watatsumi had not been attempting to “politically maneuver” their way to an advantageous end state for peace negotiations and instead just worked as another arm of the Narukami resistance the civil war would have ended way faster. They don’t even seem that instrumental to the resolution. More a noisy, and unruly distraction that does ultimately help the protagonists.

“This seems like a biased retelling of the archon quest”

Yes. It is. For you see, I mentioned at the very beginning that the Kamisato clan themselves are funding this movie. Of course it’s going to paint them in a better light. It would be more subtle in a full movie than in a highlight summary, but, the movie portrays the Yashiro commission as the ultimate good guys.

And with this, Gorou/Miss Hina should get into an argument with Xavier and ultimately walk off the production. Potentially with other people, obviously I need to add some Fontaine characters to this plot but like I said I don’t have a full cast list.

But I think he’s not done with movies, I think Watatsumi island should in turn sponsor a Kaiju movie of their own. This one less about gross abuses of power and the military government of war time Inazuma and more about cultural assimilation. I’m going to be honest what you are about to read is going to be a lot of straight copy pasted from the conversation I had with Claire earlier.

I want the movie to start with a game of chess to represent the war. Like. A whole game of chess. I don’t know how to play chess, and it should be chess and not go.

the kokomi stand in should be playing against the sara stand in and then sara should suddenly be switched to the ayato stand in. watatsumi is playing white and is playing trying to take minimal casualties, trying to protect pawns and knights and other expendable pieces. Narukami's side should seemingly be able to bring out pieces that were already taken down, they have the supplies to field more troops, they don't have to play as cautious with them. When the king is taken the kokomi stand in should be removed from the scene. the camera pans up from the board and they are just not there. they aren't in the movie again. the ayato stand in shakes the air's hand and congratulates nobody on how well they played.

during the game, they should be doing the exposition / negotiations that explain how the new Orobashi ends up on Watatsumi. Because that’s the bulk of the film, in a world where Watatsumi lost the war and entered into a less favorable agreement with the Narukami government, they are given a baby Ruin Serpent as prize for their cooperation. This Ruin Serpent is posed as a new Orobashi, given so that the people know their new government cares about their culture and beliefs. And I think the Orobashi is hungry, and at first watatsumi is also showered with other gifts for accepting their prize (why are they given gifts for that, you may ask), and those gifts make it easy to take care of the Orobashi, but its hungry and it has specific requests and people to take care of it (these people tend to disappear) and slowly, slowly they come to realize that while Watatsumi island is fixed and repaired from the war (at the beginning the island should be shown in ruin), there isn't a single person left on Watatsumi anymore. Which is supposed to represent how physically the people of Watatsumi island may benefit from a merge, culturally they would disappear.

or at least that’s my first draft of the plot. Anyways, traveler and paimon are recruited to work on the new play because they will work for peanuts. Paimon gets to be cameraman and the traveler is constructing/operating the ruin serpent puppet/body suit.

they should take this film to the festival and lose. With audiences stating it lacks action, the end is unsatisfying or they just don’t get it.

Xavier’s film should win the festival.

I have a few more thoughts on this but it’s very late and I can include them in the morning.

#my post #genshin impact #Holy shit so many words why did I start this at 2am #My writing #i can tag it with that even though this is just a n outline #If I could write this in any format I would write it like a genshin event. I want to make a fake Genshin event

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morgana-larkin · 8 hours ago

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Alright so I got this prompt messaged to me by @dreamer-329 : Hi I have read almost all your fanfics and I love them a lot, I saw you are fine with receiving prompts and while I was listening to music this song came on and I got an idea haha

Hearing this song made me think that this would be a perfect club song for Melissa x reader, song is Mi casa su casa by Omar Rudberg, here is what i thought of but you can spin this however you see best fits, Melissa is out with some of the Abbott crew and she sees R dancing and is into them, they briefly bump into each other at the bar ordering drinks but nothing happens until R is dancing to this song and they look at Melissa(who is already watching them) and sing the lyrics while staring intently at her and dancing more provocative by every line they sing (I can see it in your eyes

This is what you came for

Baby, don't be shy

Because you got something I've been wanting

A long, long time

And I got something you've been wanting

That's no crime 'cause

You got a body

I got a body

Let's have a party

Mi casa su casa)

I thought this was a cute and smutty idea and wrote it over the holidays. I just finished it and I definitely had to edit it as I wrote most of it when I was not sober and some of it made no fucking sense. Hope you like it!

On another note: I’m working on 3 other prompts for Mel atm so be patient! Especially as I might need a moment after I saw the dress Lisa wore to the golden globes…😮‍💨

Mi Casa or Su Casa

Warnings: smut, teasing, teacher-student role play (small part)

Words: 2.6k

“I still don’t get why youse dragging me out.” Melissa complains as they all step into a bar.

“Because we all could use some fun after the week we’ve had.” Janine says excitedly and they all find a table to sit at. “I’ll buy the first round, what does everyone want?” Janine asks and everyone gives their order to her and she goes to the bar to order.

Melissa looks around the bar and sees a few people dancing to the song that the DJ is playing. She sees a few other people scattered around the bar, most in conversations with the other people at their table. Janine comes back a few minutes later and passes everyone their drink.

“Here’s to putting up with all the golf course construction.” Jacob says and they all cheers to that.

A couple rounds later and they’re all looser, even Melissa. Melissa then notices a few people walk by the table and she looks to see a few young women walking by. One of them turns around once they find a table and Melissa does a double take.

You decided to go out with your friends after you were ready to come back out after a breakup and one of your friends suggested a bar where you can all dance. You walk into the bar and you pass by a group of people at a table and then one of your friends decides on a table and you turn around to sit in a chair. You look around the bar and you notice a ginger woman staring at you and you smile and wave at her. She smiles back at you and then joins the conversation at her table.

You notice her keep glancing at you and then she goes to get up and walks to the bar. You get up with the excuse of getting the next round even though you just got the previous one and you go to meet her at the bar.

“Hi.” You say and she turns to look at you and you smile.

“Hi.” She says. “I’m Melissa.” She adds on and you shake her hand.

“I’m Y/n. Melissa is a beautiful name, it suits you.” You tell her and she smiles with a slight blush “So I’ve noticed this hot ginger staring at me for the past hour. Would you know anything about that?” You ask her and she pretends to think about it then shakes her head.

“Not a thing, but maybe she thinks you’re cute.” She tells you and you smile.

“Well I think you’re cute as well.” You tell her and then the bartender brings her drinks and she takes them.

“I gotta go bring these to my friends but maybe I’ll see you around.” She says and then walks away, with a slight sway to her hips. You watch her walk away and then the bartender asks what you want to get and you order all the drinks.

You go back to the table with your friends and then they ask you all about that woman you were talking to.

“I don’t know anything about her other than her name is Melissa.” You say to all of them.

“Then go talk to her more, or even go ask her to dance.” One of your friends suggests.

“She’s busy with her friends right now.” You tell them and they look over at the table.

“Go up and ask her to dance.” They tell you. “Or you can dance seductively and get her to come to you.” They add and you think about it and decide to do that. The next song comes on and you get up and go to the dance floor. You know the song that comes on and you also start singing as well as dancing to it.

“Well woman the way the time cold, I wanna be keeping you warm. I got the right temperature for shelter you from the storm.” You sing and move your hips along to the song. You also have your hands up in the air as well as everyone else who’s dancing and it makes your shirt go up and anyone can see your belly button. “Oh lord, girl, I got the right tactics to turn you on. And girl I wanna be the papa, you can be the mom, oh-oh.” You sing out and you quickly glance and see that Melissa is watching you and you smile before you keep dancing to the song. The next song comes a couple minutes later and you instantly recognize the guitar beat.

You swing your hips to the beat before the lyrics start and you decide to go a bit further with your seductive movements to see if she’ll come to you.

“Mi casa su casa. I’ve been watching you all night, over on the dance floor.” You sing out and you look at Melissa and you see she’s still watching you. You decide to keep your eyes on her while you still keep dancing. “I can see it in your eyes, this is what you came for.” You continue while you run your hands down the side of your body and you see Melissa grabs her drink and take a sip. “Baby, don’t be shy, because you got something I’ve been wanting, a long long time. And I got something you’ve been wanting.” You sing out and move your hips more. “That’s no crime cause, you got a body.” You sing while you point to her. “I got a body.” And then you run your hands down your chest down to your stomach. “Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” You sing out and turn around and wiggle your butt a little.

You turn back around and you see Melissa making her way over to you and you look back at her table and see all her friends watching her. She makes her way over to you and she puts her hands on your waist while you’re still dancing and you wrap your arms around her neck. She pushes you closer until you’re pressed up against her and the next chorus is just about to play.

“That’s no crime cause, you got a body, I got a body.” You sing and she moves her hands to your back and runs her hands all over while dancing to the song with you. “Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” You continue singing. “I got a body, you got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She then flips you around so your back is pushed up against her front and she runs her hands down the side of your body and she starts singing the rest.

“I’ve been looking at you all night long. From over on the dance floor, I really want to take you home.” She then places her hands on your stomach and she starts taking over the dancing, making you move in time with her. “You got a body, I got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She sings and then gets right to your ear. “I got a body, and you got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She finishes singing the song but she doesn’t move away from you or let you move. “You wanted me to come to you.” She says and you smile.

“Is that a question or a comment?” You ask her and she gets you to turn around.

“A comment, staring at me while running your hands all over your body gave it away.” She tells you. “What do you want to happen?” She asks you and you shrug your shoulders.

“I haven’t thought that far.” You tell her and she shakes her head with a smile. “All I thought was getting the hot ginger that’s been staring at me to come over.” You tell her and then she cups your cheek and leans in. You lean in as well and connect your lips with hers. They feel fucking magical and much softer than you’ve imagined all night. You feel her hand move from your cheek to the back of your head and the other move to your waist.

“What would you say if I asked you mi casa or su casa?” She asks when she pulls away and you blink at her for a second before smiling.

“I’d say…su casa.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Let’s go grab our stuff and I’ll call an Uber.” She says and you nod before you speed walk to get your things.

“Where are you going?” Your friend asks.

“With the hot ginger to her place.” You say and then walk over to Melissa.

“Melissa, why are you grabbing your purse?” Barb asks and Melissa just smiles.

“I’ll see you all on Monday.” She says and then she grabs your hand and leaves.

“Can I stay at someone’s house tonight? Melissa is not as quiet as she thinks.” Jacob asks everyone.

You get in an Uber with Melissa and she rubs your thigh the entire time. Once you get to her place she takes your hand again and you quickly get out. As soon as she turns the light on to her house you get a good look at her and you’re mesmerised.

“You’re even hotter now than at the bar.” You tell her and you kiss her again. You trap her against you and the door and with the way her hands are all over your stomach and chest, she doesn’t mind. She then pushes you away, takes your hand and brings you upstairs to her room.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes.” She says once she closes her door.

“And what are you going to do about that?” You ask her and she smirks before taking your sweater and shirt off. You then go and take her blazer and shirt off before both of you get on the bed.

You end up straddling her lap and she unclips your bra while you’re kissing her and you help her take it off before she throws it somewhere in the room. You then unclip her bra and you throw it away without any care once you get a look at her chest.

“Do you like them?” She asks when she sees you staring at her boobs and you nod.

You go directly to her neck while you cup both her breasts and she moans into the kiss. You push her back on the bed and then you take her leather pants and underwear off. You run your hands up her smooth legs all the way up to her hips. You see her start squirming under you and you smile.

“Eager already Melissa?” You ask her.

“You were pretty much grinding on me at the bar.” She says and you snort. You then bend down and wrap your mouth around a nipple and she moans out. You switch to her other nipple and you can tell she needs it bad.

“When was the last time you had sex with someone?” You ask her and she sighs.

“A few months.” She says and you hum.

“Really? You look like someone who can’t go that long without it and someone who can get someone no problem.” You tell her.

“You’re right, and yet you’re making me wait.” She tells you and you smirk. “I mean if you won’t do anything then I’ll just- oh god.” You cut her off by circling her clit and she’s now whimpering and gasping underneath you. You’re slowly circling her clit as you want to see her slowly come undone and also have her beg for more. You watch as she squirms, trying to get her high quicker but you’re not letting her. “Please, please go faster.” She begs and you smirk before circling her clit faster.

You feel her entire body under you and you listen to her as she comes and you don’t stop. You insert 2 fingers in her dripping centre and start fingering her while circling her clit. She gasps out and bucks her hips when you insert two fingers and starts moaning at the sensitivity.

“Oh god.” She begins saying like a mantra as she gets close to her second orgasm. She squeezes around your fingers and then she comes again and she holds your hand and gets you to pull out. You then lick your fingers and taste her and you moan at the taste.

“You taste good.” You tell her and she pulls you down to her.

“You think so?” She asks and you nod. She then pulls you into a kiss and tastes herself mixed with the taste of your mouth and she loves it. “Take the rest of your clothes off.” She orders and you immediately obey. “So obedient.” She smirks as you take your pants off.

“Something about you and your tone that makes me want to obey.” You tell her and she hums.

“Wish my second graders were like that as well.” She tells you and you tilt your head.

“You’re a teacher?” You ask her and she nods. “That’s so hot.” You tell her and then kiss her.

You feel her move her hand down and then she starts circling your clit and getting you all wet before she inserts a finger in your entrance. You moan into the kiss and then she slips another one in and then starts pumping in and out of you.

“What do you find hot about me being a teacher?” She asks and you have to take a few seconds to think about what she just asked you.

“I think it’s more about thinking of you…teaching me a lesson.” You say in between moans and she smirks.

“Why would you need to get taught a lesson? Have you been a bad girl?” She asks and she feels you get wetter after saying that. She then pulls out of you and flips you both so that she’s on top. She sticks her fingers back inside of you and she smiles at you gasping and moaning. “Be a good girl for your teacher and do as I say.” She tells you and you whimper while all the moisture goes right to your pussy. “Are you that excited to be a good girl for me?” She asks and you nod. She then curls her fingers inside of you and you start seeing stars.

“I’m so close, I’m so close.” You tell her and she feels you clench around her fingers and she moans at the feeling.

“Be a good girl and come for me.” She tells you and you immediately come, like the good girl you are.

She gets in bed beside you after helping you clean yourself up and she wraps and arm around you and you both fall asleep. The next morning Melissa wakes up and sees you’re already gone and she sighs. She walks downstairs, a bit weirdly due to last night and she sees a note.

‘Last night was fun, txt me ;)

xxx-xxx-xxxx’

She reads it with a smile and immediately puts your number in her phone and texts you.

Melissa: Hey, it’s the hot ginger. I noticed there was a girl missing in my bed this morning.

She texts it to you and then she goes to get breakfast ready but then gets a notification and sees it’s from you.

You: Hey hot ginger, maybe that should be your name in my phone 😉

You: Sorry I left, I had plans with my parents this morning but I’d like to do it again sometime if you also want to as well

Melissa: Yes I’d love to, just one question

You: What’s that?

Melissa: Mi casa or su casa?

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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xomakara · 2 days ago

Text

When I Fall [Part 1]

SUMMARY | You're trapped in a loveless and childless marriage to Taeho, a divorced older man that is a friend of your father's. After fifteen years of marriage and no children of your own, Taeho starts to see other women since you're past your prime and can't give him heirs. One night, tired of your husband and his emotional abuse, you go out with some friends, get shit-faced drunk, and meet Jongho, a man fifteen years younger than you, that will change your life forever.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, angst, drama

CONTENT/WARNINGS | age-gap, step-cest, cheating, mentions of control and emotional abuse, mentions of drinking, profanity/strong language, kissing, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, vaginal penetration, fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, pregnancy, scandals

LENGTH | 11,110 words

TAGLIST | @desirehorizon @sweetinsaniiity

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

@othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety @dove-net

AUTHOR’S NOTE | This was originally supposed to be a oneshot but thanks @kwanisms for beta-reading and suggesting to make it a two shot instead. The ending was originally too rushed so having it be a 2-parter will let me be able to flesh the plot for the second half to be just as dramatic and scandalous as this part so I hope you come to read it! Also thank you @kpop---scenarios for beta-reading the original fic and also giving me some suggestions to add as well! Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for the lovely banner! I really appreciate all you folks for helping me with the visual aspect and adding ideas~

The wine glass you held shook in your hand, your drink almost spilling into your lap. You couldn't count how many glasses you’d had tonight. Three? Maybe four? You let out a sigh. It didn't matter anyway. You just wanted to feel nothing. You didn't want to feel Taeho's disdain or the emptiness of a childless, laughterless house.

“Y/N, you okay?” Soojin asked, concerned.

You forced a smile and raised your glass. “Just having fun.” The lie tasted bitter, but you washed it down with more wine.

“You need this,” Jiwoo added. “You’ve been cooped up for ages.”

Ages. Fifteen long years.

Fifteen years of biting your tongue, of forced smiles, and enduring Taeho's cold indifference had chipped away at pieces of yourself you didn't know you could lose. It wasn't always like this at the beginning. Years ago, your family arranged a union between you and Taeho so he could enter the upper echelon of Seoul society. Taeho and his company helped fund your father's political campaign as the mayor. In turn, your father provided Taeho access into a more prestigious social circle. Taeho divorced his wife of nine years at the time, claiming that they fell out of love. But you knew he divorced her since she didn't come from a prominent family such as yours.

You never saw his ex-wife around much after the divorce. You knew he had a son but you only met him once when he was about nine or ten, months after your marriage to Taeho was official. You never saw him again since Taeho sent him abroad for boarding school.

When no children had appeared after five years of trying, Taeho blamed it on you. You tried, oh, you had tried for years. Doctors didn't know why it didn't work and neither did you. You took pills, ate a vegetarian diet, and all sorts of treatments, but Taeho berated you that nothing worked and blamed you for being "barren". He didn't want to divorce you, no you were far too valuable socially, and still could provide him with the perfect home. So while you remained, trapped, he'd fuck other women. You stopped caring, even though the emptiness threatened to consume you whole.

You were exhausted. So exhausted.

“Another round,” you called out, the waiter nodded and disappeared into the crowded bar. The dim lights, the scent of alcohol and perfume, and the sight of bodies pressed together on the dance floor filled you with envy. You longed for their freedom, their carelessness.

Laughter. Yours? Someone else’s? You couldn't care less as you lost yourself in the music, your body moving freely for the first time in years. And then you saw him, taller than you by a few inches, broad-shouldered, with a grin that made your heart skip. He exuded confidence, and his eyes met yours as if he'd been searching for you all night.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth and husky. He was close enough that you could smell the faint hint of cologne mingling with his sweat. Jongho, he introduced himself. All you could focus on was the way his gaze lingered, the way it made heat crawl up your neck.

“Careful,” Soojin whispered in your ear with a teasing tone. “He looks like trouble.”

Good, you thought, your fingers curling around Jongho’s as he pulled you closer. Trouble sounded better than the quiet despair waiting for you at home.

The rest of the night was a blur of touch and sound, of hands roaming and lips brushing against each others. You didn’t think about Taeho. Didn’t think about the consequences. There was only this moment, this man who made you feel wanted in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

When you woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the unfamiliar curtains. Your head throbbed, the taste of last night’s indulgences sour on your tongue. And then you felt it—the warmth of another body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jongho.

You panicked and then everything seem to come back to you. Memories of his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck, the way he’d whispered promises you knew he couldn’t keep. Memories of kissing him nonstop, bouncing on his thick, hardㅡ

You tried to get out of the bedsheets that you were tangled in but his arm tightened around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His breath tickled your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The guilt was already settling in, heavy and suffocating. What have you done?

Jongho propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His expression was soft, almost tender, but there was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Stay,” he said, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just a little longer.”

You shook your head, pulling away from his touch. “I can’t.”

The weight of what you’d done pressed down on you, the guilt sharp and unrelenting. You needed to go home, to face whatever was waiting for you there.

Jongho’s hand lingered in the air for a moment before he let it drop, his expression shifting into something more neutral.

“Alright,” he said simply, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. He didn’t press, didn’t try to convince you to stay, and for that, you were grateful. "Can I at least get your number?"

You exchanged phone numbers without hesitation, a tiny voice inside whispering that it was wrong. Despite being married, you'd given your number to a stranger, pretending it was simply to stay in touch. But his smile as he thanked you and left his contact information was so handsome...

Scrambling out of bed, you searched for your scattered clothes. Jongho's silent gaze followed you, heavy with unspoken words. Fully dressed, you hesitated at the door, your hand on the knob. This had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, and you refused to let it define you.

“Take care of yourself,” Jongho said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost kind, but there was a distance in his tone that hadn’t been there last night.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and opened the door. The hallway outside was dimly lit, the early morning light filtering through the windows at the far end. You stepped out, closing the door behind you, and took a deep breath.

The walk home was a blur, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. What would Taeho say? Would he even notice you’d been gone? The questions gnawed at you, but there were no answers, only the cold reality of what lay ahead.

As you approached your house, the familiar facade loomed like a silent judge. You paused at the gate, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. Time to face the consequences of your actions, whatever they might be.

With a shaky breath, you pushed open the gate and walked inside, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you.

The days after that night with Jongho passed in a haze. Your husband, Taeho, was, as usual, distant and dismissive, barely acknowledging your presence except to criticize or complain. The weight of your guilt pressed down on you, but so did something else—something darker, hungrier, more unsettling. You tried to push it away, bury it under the monotony of your daily routine, but it lingered like a shadow at the edges of your mind.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it casually, expecting another mundane notification. But what you saw made your breath catch in your throat. It was a photo from that handsome man.

Jongho and a photo of his hard cock.

Your eyes widened, and your heart began to race. The image was unmistakable: thick, veined, and erect, resting against a backdrop of plain white sheets. Below it, a message: “Can’t stop thinking about you. Want to meet again?”

You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly. Part of you wanted to delete the message instantly, to pretend it never happened. But another part of you—a part that had been dormant for so long—stirred awake. The memory of that night flooded back: his hands on your skin, his lips against yours, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years.

Before you could stop yourself, you typed a reply: “Why are you doing this?”

The response came almost immediately: “Because I want you. And I think you want me too.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. He wasn’t wrong. The truth clawed at you, undeniable. You wanted him. Craved him. Even now, just the thought of him sent a flicker of heat through your core.

“This is dangerous,” you replied, your fingers moving almost of their own accord.

“So is staying in a marriage that makes you miserable,” he shot back.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t saying anything you hadn’t already thought, but hearing it laid bare like that—it was jarring. You felt exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a strange relief in it, too. Someone else saw it. Someone else knew.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your fingers hesitating over the keys.

“You. Just you,” he answered simply. “Meet me tonight. Let me show you how good it can be.”

Your mind raced. This was insane. Reckless. Dangerous. And yet, the idea of seeing him again—of feeling that fire once more—was intoxicating. You glanced toward the living room, where Taeho sat immersed in his work, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside you.

“Where?” you typed before you could talk yourself out of it.

He sent an address, followed by: “Wear something sexy.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You moved through the motions of dinner and conversation with Taeho, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Later, as you dressed in the dim light of your bedroom, your hands shook as you fastened the clasp of your bra. You chose a simple black dress, one that hugged your curves in all the right places—not too revealing, but enough to make you feel confident. When you added a touch of perfume, your reflection in the mirror looked almost like a stranger.

This is really happening, you thought, your stomach twisting with nerves and anticipation.

You slipped out of the house quietly, leaving Taeho engrossed in his nightly routine. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you walked to the address Jongho had given you. It was a sleek, modern building in a trendy part of town, far removed from the quiet streets you called home.

When you arrived, Jongho was waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “You came,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“I shouldn’t have,” you replied, though the way your body reacted to him—the way your pulse quickened, your skin tingled—said otherwise.

He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over you. “But you did,” he murmured, his hand brushing against yours. “And I’m glad.”

You hesitated, torn between guilt and desire. But when his fingers interlaced with yours, pulling you gently toward the door, you didn’t resist. Inside, the apartment was stylish and minimalist, lit by soft, ambient lighting. He led you to the couch, his touch firm but tender.

“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes lingering on you as you sat down. “Better than I remembered.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. It was deep, hungry, electric. Every nerve in your body came alive, and you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor.

His hands wandered, exploring your body with a confidence that left you weak. He pulled away just long enough to murmur, “Let me see you,” before slowly unzipping your dress. The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling at your waist. His eyes darkened as they roamed over your exposed skin, and his fingers traced the curve of your collarbone.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice raw with desire.

"Wait..." you pushed away from him slightly. "How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-four. Why do you ask?" Jongho answered in a rasp, eyes wandering. "Does that... bother you? That I'm much younger?"

You pursed your lips. You hadn't expected him to be that young. It should've bothered you—after all, Taeho was twenty years older than you were—but there was something alluring about the youthful vigor Jongho possessed.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm fifteen years older than you? You don't want to be with someone more... your age?" you asked cautiously.

"I don't care about our age differences," Jongho shrugged, lifting his index finger and running it down the edge of your jaw.

"It's different though—"

"How? You told me that you're married to someone twenty years older than yourself and he sees other women besides. Tell me how is that any different," he cuts you off with a frown.

He's right. Your husband had affairs left and right while you were home alone, stuck raising yourself. And each time you tried to end things, Taeho would guilt-trip you and say how your father would be disappointed since his political and social ties benefited both yours and Taeho's families. And after so many years, married to your father's friend, you were resigned to living with your unfaithful spouse and being a trophy wife for his events and parties.

Tears fill your eyes at the realization and you suddenly want to feel something other than loneliness.

Jongho tilts his head and reaches out to run his fingertips along the creases of your jaw. He has a curious expression. "What if I can help you forget him for a few hours...?" Jongho husked. "Help take your mind off your troubles."

"Just for a few hours?" you echo, your gaze darkening as the question dances on the edge of your lips. "What if I wanted more...?"

"All you have to do is say the word," he promises.

His smile grows, and the way its slow curve travels across his face sends shivers down your spine. He trails a hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. You feel the warmth radiating from his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, and it makes you dizzy.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours “Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your decisions pressing down on you. But then, the memory of Taeho’s cold indifference floods your mind, and something inside you snaps. The guilt, the shame, the years of loneliness—they all dissolve under Jongho’s gaze.

“I want more,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire.

Jongho doesn’t need any further encouragement. In one swift motion, he lifts you off the ground, his arms strong and sure around you. You let out a startled laugh, but it quickly turns into a gasp as he carries you towards his bedroom. The world blurs around you, and all you can focus on is the way his muscles flex beneath his thin shirt and the warmth of his breath against your neck.

He kicks the door open with his foot and sets you down gently on the edge of his bed. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. You glance around nervously, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of intimacy, and the vulnerability is almost overwhelming.

But Jongho doesn’t give you time to dwell on your fears. He kneels before you, his hands sliding up your thighs and sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and you can see the hunger burning within them.

“Relax,” he says softly, his voice like velvet. “Let me take care of you.”

His hands move higher, pushing your dress up around your hips. You bite your lip, feeling exposed and yet incredibly alive. His touch is deliberate, every movement calculated to drive you wild. When his fingers finally brush against the lace of your panties, you can’t help but moan.

“So sensitive,” he teases, his breath hot against your skin. “I wonder how much more I can make you squirm.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. The sensation is electric, and you involuntarily arch your back, craving more. He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through your body as he continues to trail kisses along your legs.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Is this where you want me?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod frantically, unable to form coherent words. The anticipation is driving you mad, and you can feel the heat pooling between your legs. Satisfied with your response, Jongho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, tossing them aside without a second thought.

The cool air hits your core, making you shiver, but his mouth quickly replaces it, warm and insistent against your most sensitive area. You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as his tongue flicks against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh god,” you moan, your hips bucking against him. “Don’t stop…”

He doesn’t. Instead, he takes you deeper, his tongue exploring every inch of you with expert precision. You’re lost in the sensations, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, and you can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Jongho pulls away, leaving you whimpering in frustration. He stands up, towering over you, and begins to unbutton his shirt. His movements are slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. When the shirt falls to the floor, revealing his toned chest, you can’t help but reach out to trace the lines of his muscles with your fingertips.

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he leans down to kiss you deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips is intoxicating, and you eagerly deepen the kiss, your tongues dancing together in a heated embrace.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both panting, desperate for more. Jongho smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Lie back,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle.

You comply immediately, lying back against the pillows as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out before him, completely vulnerable and utterly irresistible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands running up your sides, tracing the curves of your body. “I could spend hours worshipping you.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a surge of confidence despite your nervousness. Jongho notices your reaction and smiles, leaning down to capture your lips once more. This kiss is softer, more tender, and it makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

As the kiss deepens, his hands continue their exploration, mapping out every inch of your body with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His fingers glide over your breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp into the kiss, your hips instinctively grinding against his.

“Please,” you beg, breaking the kiss to look him in the eye. “I need you… now.”

Jongho groans, his self-control slipping as he positions himself at your entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pull him closer. “Yes. Please, Jongho… don’t make me wait any longer.”

With a final, lingering kiss, he pushes inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your body instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him deeper. He starts to move, slow and steady at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. But soon, the pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. Each one drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder with every passing second.

“You feel incredible,” Jongho growls, his hands gripping your hips as he pounds into you. “So tight… so perfect.”

You can barely think straight, your entire being focused on the sensations coursing through your body. Every nerve feels alight, every movement bringing you closer to the brink. When his fingers find your clit again, rubbing small circles against the sensitive nub, it’s all too much.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure radiate out from your core. Jongho follows close behind, burying his face in your neck as he spills himself inside you, his moans muffled against your skin.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing of two people who have given themselves completely to each other. Then, slowly, Jongho pulls out, collapsing beside you on the bed.

You lie there, your bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow of your passion. But even as you try to catch your breath, a thought lingers in the back of your mind: What happens next?

Jongho seems to sense your uncertainty. He turns to face you, propping himself up on one elbow as he studies your expression.

“Hey,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”

You hesitate, unsure if you should voice your concerns. But the warmth in his eyes encourages you to be honest.

“This… us. What does it mean?” you ask, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

Jongho’s gaze softens, and he pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It means whatever you want it to,” he replies, his tone reassuring. “We can take this as slow or as fast as you need. All that matters is that you’re happy.”

You feel a lump form in your throat, overwhelmed by his kindness and understanding. For the first time in years, you feel truly seen and valued.

But before you can formulate a response, Jongho’s phone buzzes loudly on the nightstand. The sound startles you both, and he reluctantly lets go of you to check the message.

His expression changes as he reads it, his brows furrowing in concern. “I’m sorry,” he says apologetically, “but I need to take this. It’s important.”

You nod, though you can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. As Jongho steps out of the room to answer the call, you’re left alone with your thoughts, wondering if this newfound happiness is too good to last.

"We have that charity gala tonight and it is imperative that you and I are in attendance," Taeho barks at you as he stomps around the living room, pulling items off the end tables and collecting the empty glasses on the coffee table. "We made the commitment months ago and our attendance is required. This is not an optional event."

"I know Taeho," you sipped your coffee and leaned back against the sofa. "Your suit for the gala is hanging in your room and your shoes have been polished. All that's left for you to do is to style your hair and wear the watch and cufflinks that I got you."

"And did you purchase a dress?" Taeho peered at you, placing the empty glasses on the table by the large armchair in front of the fire. "An appropriate one for your status?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and nodded. "I have it all under control," you sighed, "like I always do."

"What a dutiful wife you are," Taeho scoffed sarcastically, giving a half-assed chuckle, before turning serious. "Your father is coming over today to discuss a campaign that has started up with the opposing party. Make sure lunch is at its usual time and the maid has set the dining room accordingly," he huffed, "I don't need your father to chastise me for having a messy home."

"Yes Taeho," you replied, finishing your mug and moving into the kitchen.

When the doorbell rang, you heard Taeho shout for you and you went to open the door for your father. "Hi, daddy," you smiled warmly and leaned in for a hug.

"My little girl," your father chuckled warmly. "You look tired," he whispered to you as the maid took his coat and hat. "A woman of your caliber should always take care of themselves. If you ever need some money for a spa day, let me know," your father sighed softly. "I can only imagine the burdens of maintaining this house."

"Thank you, but that is what I have the maids for," you muttered politely. "Besides, you're busy and need to be taken care of too, daddy."

"Your mother makes sure I have all my meals prepared for me at the right times," he grinned at you and looked past you as Taeho approached. "Ah, Taeho, you look... aged, no offence."

"You too, my friend," Taeho laughed and the men hugged, clapping each other on the back. "I do hope the mayor's job has treated you well over the years."

"It has! Very busy but fulfilling," your father chuckled.

"Good, that's good!" Taeho nodded and moved towards the door to the kitchen. "Well, why don't we discuss some things over lunch hm? Shall we?"

Your father looked at you with concern etched in his wrinkles and nodded slowly. "Will you be joining us, Y/N?" he inquired. "I would love to catch up with my daughter and see what she's been up to."

"Not today, daddy," you shook your head. "I have a lot to prepare for the gala. You two enjoy your meal and I will see you later, alright?"

"Fine," he muttered and kissed the top of your head before following Taeho towards the dining room. "I'll see you later this evening, sweetheart. We will chat more then."

Once Taeho and your father disappeared into the other room, you let out a loud sigh, massaged your temple and made your way towards your bedroom to get ready for the night's charity gala.

Hours later, you stood in front of the mirror adjusting the straps of your emerald green, sparkling evening dress. It clung to your body in all the right places and revealed just enough skin that would turn a man's gaze your way. Taeho hated when you drew too much attention, but tonight, you needed the escape.

"A little form fitting for my taste," Taeho grunted as he fumbled with the buttons of his cufflinks. "But it will do. Come and assist me with the cufflinks."

You stepped into the bedroom and strode over to him. You slipped the first cufflink in and stared at him. "Did you have a nice afternoon with daddy?" you inquired softly, turning his hand gently and securing the second cufflink in place.

"Yes, it was very informative," Taeho grunted. "Nothing to worry your pretty, little head over," Taeho muttered. "Now let us go, I don't want us to be late."

The venue was a sprawling ballroom filled with the city’s elite. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed off the high ceilings, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume. You clung to Taeho’s arm as he schmoozed with donors, forcing yourself to smile and nod at the right moments. His grip on your elbow was firm, almost possessive, and you felt the familiar weight of suffocation pressing down on you.

And then you saw him.

Jongho.

He stood near the bar, dressed in a sleek black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt on its axis. His eyes met yours, and you could tell from the way his jaw tightened that he was just as shocked to see you as you were to see him.

Taeho didn’t seem to notice your reaction. He steered you towards the bar where Jongho was, his voice booming with false cheer.

“Ah, there he is! My son,” he said, pulling you closer as if to emphasize the word my. “Jongho, come meet my wife.”

Son.

The word echoed in your head like a cruel joke. Your legs threatened to give out beneath you, but somehow, you managed to stay upright. Jongho approached slowly, his expression unreadable. Up close, you could see the tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hand as he extended it to greet you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly, though his voice held a subtle edge. His fingers brushed against yours, and even that brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. You forced yourself to look away, afraid that one more second of eye contact would betray everything.

“Likewise,” you murmured, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. Taeho, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing between you and Jongho, clapped his son on the back.

“Jongho’s been living abroad for the past few years,” Taeho explained, his tone dripping with pride. “He’s finally decided to come home and take over the family business. Isn’t that right, son?”

Jongho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yes, Father. It’s time I took on more responsibility.”

You felt like you were drowning. The man who had held you in his arms just days ago, the man who had whispered sweet nothings into your ear, was now standing in front of you as your stepson. The irony was almost too much to bear.

The rest of the introductions passed in a haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the heat radiating from Jongho’s body, the way his gaze lingered on you whenever Taeho wasn’t looking. When Taeho excused himself to speak with another donor, you found yourself alone with Jongho.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken questions and desires. Finally, Jongho broke it, his voice low and urgent. “We need to talk.”

You glanced around nervously, making sure no one was watching. “Not here,” you whispered. “It’s too risky.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening again. “Then when? Where?”

You hesitated, torn between fear and longing. “I… I don’t know.”

Jongho stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Don’t shut me out,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Not after what we shared.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to reach out to him, to feel his arms around you once more, but the reality of your situation kept you rooted in place. “Jongho, this… this changes everything.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted, his voice firm. “We can figure this out. Together.”

Before you could respond, Taeho reappeared, his loud voice cutting through the tension. “There you two are! Come, let’s get a photo for the press.”

You forced a smile, allowing Taeho to position you between him and Jongho. As the camera flashed, you felt Jongho’s hand brush against yours, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The contact was fleeting, but it was enough to reignite the fire burning within you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jongho whenever you could. Each time, he seemed to be watching you too, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your heart race. The forbidden nature of your attraction only made it more irresistible, and you knew you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Finally, as the guests began to leave, you spotted Jongho slipping out onto the balcony. Your pulse quickened. Without thinking, you followed him, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat rising in your chest.

He turned as you approached, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. “I was hoping you’d come,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You stepped closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “Jongho, we can’t… this isn’t…”

He cut you off, closing the distance between you in one swift movement. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. How could you deny it when every fiber of your being was screaming for him? Without thinking, you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and desperate. The kiss was electric, sending sparks shooting through every nerve in your body. You melted into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach. His grip on you tightened, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, you realized the gravity of what you’d just done.

“This… this can’t happen,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.

Jongho’s eyes burned with determination. “It already has,” he replied, his voice fierce. “And it will again.”

The car ride home was stifling. The silence between you and Taeho was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of the evening pressing down on your chest. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, but your mind was elsewhere—on Jongho, on that kiss, on the way his hands had felt against your skin.

Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“Jongho will be moving in with us,” he said, his voice calm but firm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach dropped.

“What?” you managed to choke out, tearing your gaze from the window to look at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“He needs a place to stay while he gets settled,” Taeho continued, as if this were some mundane detail about groceries or bills. “And I think it’s time he reconnects with his family.”

The word "family" echoed cruelly in your mind. You wanted to scream, to object, to reveal the truth about that night with Jongho, the message, the balcony. But your throat tightened, silencing you, and you could only swallow hard and nod.

“He’ll start calling you mother,” Taeho added casually, as though he were discussing the weather. “It’s only proper, after all.”

Mother.

You opened your mouth to argue, to say anything, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you even say? That you couldn’t bear to hear Jongho call you that? That it would remind you of what you’d done, of what you still wanted to do?

You looked away, gripping the edge of your seat so tightly your knuckles turned white. The rest of the ride passed in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional honk of a passing car. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you felt numb, like you were floating outside your body.

Taeho got out first, not waiting for you. You followed slowly, dragging your feet as if delaying the inevitable might somehow change it. Inside, the house was quiet, but there was a new presence in the air—a tension that hadn’t been there before. You hesitated in the foyer, unsure of where to go or what to do.

“Jongho will be here tomorrow,” Taeho said, tossing his keys onto the table. “Make sure his room is ready.”

You nodded quietly, your mind racing. His room. The guest room, the one downstairs, far enough from yours to give the illusion of propriety but close enough to make your heart race. You wondered if Jongho would feel it too—the pull, the magnetism that seemed to draw you together no matter how hard you tried to resist.

That night, sleep was impossible. You tossed and turned, your thoughts consumed by Jongho—his smile, his touch, the way he’d kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered. And now, he’d be living here, under the same roof, calling you mother. It was madness, a cruel twist of fate that you couldn’t escape.

The next morning, you woke up exhausted, your head pounding and your nerves frayed. You dressed quickly, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t want to see the guilt etched into your face, the longing you couldn’t hide.

By mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang, and your heart leapt into your throat. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your skirt before answering the door. There he was, standing on the doorstep with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever.

“Mother,” he said, the word slipping off his tongue like honey, sweet and dangerous. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Jongho,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. He stepped inside, brushing past you, and the air between you crackled with electricity. You closed the door slowly, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The moment you turned around, he was right there, closer than he should have been.

“This is going to be… interesting,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. You shivered, your pulse quickening as his hand brushed against yours.

“We can’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a look, his eyes dark with desire.

“Can’t we?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. You glanced nervously toward the stairs, half-expecting Taeho to appear at any moment, but the house was silent.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out, your fingers grazing his. He responded instantly, his hand closing around yours, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost touching. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

Tell me you don’t want this, his eyes seemed to say, and you knew you couldn’t. Because you did. More than anything. But the rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to push him away, to remember who you were and what was at stake.

But then he kissed you, and all those thoughts evaporated. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding a response you couldn’t deny. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, tangling in his hair. His grip tightened, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you.

When he broke the kiss, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“This is wrong,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.

“Is it?” he asked, his voice husky. He pressed another kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. “Or is it just… inevitable?”

The tension between you and Jongho hung thick in the air, unresolved yet undeniable. Every glance, every accidental brush of hands as you moved through the house felt like a spark waiting to ignite. Taeho’s announcement of a family dinner that evening only deepened the unease.

“Jongho,” Taeho called from the study, his voice carrying an authority that made your stomach knot. “You’ll join us for dinner. I want to discuss the future.”

Jongho glanced at you, his eyes dark with unspoken words. This is dangerous, your mind screamed, but your body betrayed you, heat pooling low in your belly as you remembered the way his lips had claimed yours just hours ago. He nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, Father.”

The day stretched on, each hour crawling by as you tried to keep yourself busy. You straightened the living room, polished the silverware, anything to distract yourself from the storm brewing inside you. And all the while, Jongho lingered, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

By the time dinner rolled around, the table was set immaculately, the aroma of the meal filling the air. Taeho took his place at the head of the table, authoritative as ever, while you sat across from Jongho. The distance felt insurmountable yet too close all at once.

As you passed the dishes, your fingers brushed against Jongho’s, sending a jolt through your system. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, his eyes burning with something primal, something forbidden. You quickly looked away, but the damage was done.

Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I’ve been thinking about our family,” he began, his tone serious. “It’s time we start planning for the future. Jongho will be taking on more responsibilities in the company, and you,” he turned to you, his gaze piercing, “will need to support him as his mother.”

You forced a smile, nodding obediently. “Of course, Taeho.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened, his fork clinking softly against his plate. He didn’t look at you, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

“Father,” he said carefully, “I appreciate your confidence in me. But I’m still learning. There’s no need to rush things.”

Taeho waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You’re more than capable. It’s time we solidify our legacy.”

Dinner dragged on, the conversation stilted and formal. You barely tasted the food, your senses hyper-aware of Jongho’s every move. When Taeho finally pushed his chair back and announced he was retiring to his study, relief flooded you, though it was short-lived.

“Don’t forget to clear the table,” he said as he left, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You mechanically gathered the dishes, the clattering of plates and the hum of the refrigerator the only sounds in the silent kitchen.

Jongho rose beside you, his movements measured and slow. “Are you okay?”

You froze, the question hanging heavy between you. No, you wanted to say. None of this is okay. But instead, you nodded, keeping your eyes locked on the sink. “I’m fine.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Your breath caught, your pulse quickening. “We can’t do this,” you whispered, though every fiber of your being screamed otherwise. “He’s your father.”

“And you’re not my mother,” he shot back, his voice firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “You know what this is. What we are.”

You turned to face him, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. This is wrong, your rational mind protested, but your body leaned into his touch, craving the connection you couldn’t deny.

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Both of you jumped apart, your hearts racing. Taeho appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

“What’s taking so long?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

Jongho straightened, his mask of composure slipping back into place. “Just finishing up, Father.”

Taeho grunted, clearly unconvinced, but he made no further comment. “Don’t dawdle. There’s work to be done.”

He disappeared again, leaving you both standing there, the weight of his suspicion hanging over you.

Once you were certain he was gone, you let out a shaky breath. “This is impossible,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jongho’s hand found yours, squeezing gently. “Nothing worth having is easy.”

His words sent a thrill through you, but the fear of discovery lingered. “We’re playing with fire,” you warned, though you didn’t pull away.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Then let’s burn.”

Heat surged through you, your resolve wavering. This is madness, part of you knew, but the rest of you didn’t care. The pull between you was too strong to resist, the promise of passion too tempting to ignore.

But before either of you could act, the sound of Taeho’s voice calling for Jongho shattered the moment. You stepped back hastily, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing.

Jongho hesitated, his eyes locking with yours one last time. “Later,” he promised, his voice low and full of intent.

Then he was gone, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your thoughts spiraling. Later. The word echoed in your mind, a promise and a threat all at once. You didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and there was no turning back now.

The days following Jongho’s arrival were a strange mix of tension and anticipation. Taeho’s announcement at dinner had only deepened the unease, but it also left you with a lingering sense of curiosity—and dread. Every glance exchanged with Jongho felt charged, every accidental brush of hands sending jolts of electricity through your body. You tried to remind yourself of the consequences, of the chaos this could unleash, but the reckless part of you didn’t care.

It was a quiet afternoon when Taeho dropped the news. He stood in the living room, his suitcase already packed, and announced he would be leaving for a business trip the next morning.

“I’ll be gone for three days,” he said, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “Jongho will stay here. I expect you both to manage things while I’m away.”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral, but inside, your heart raced. Three days alone with Jongho. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

Taeho’s departure the next morning was almost too easy. He gave you a curt nod and reminded Jongho to keep an eye on the household affairs before heading out the door. The moment it clicked shut behind him, the air in the house seemed to shift. It was just you and Jongho now.

For the first hour, you busied yourself with mundane tasks—tidying up, making tea, anything to avoid being alone with him. But fate, or perhaps something else, had other plans. Jongho found you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared blankly at the stove.

“Nervous?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

You turned to face him, your cheeks flushing despite yourself. “Should I be?”

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “That depends on you.”

There was a boldness in his eyes that made your breath catch. You knew what he was implying, and though every rational part of your brain screamed at you to walk away, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that.

“Jongho…” you started, but your voice trailed off as he closed the distance between you.

His hands rested on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, you reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. That was all the encouragement he needed.

His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his chest pressed against yours, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not Taeho, not the consequences, not the guilt that lingered at the edges of your mind.

Jongho’s hands slid down your sides, his touch sending shivers through you. When he lifted you onto the counter, you barely had time to register what was happening before his lips were on your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored further.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

His words sent a thrill through you. Beautiful. How long had it been since someone had said that to you? Since someone had looked at you the way Jongho was looking at you now?

You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliged, pulling it off in one swift motion, and then his hands were back on you, unbuttoning your blouse with practiced ease. When his fingers brushed against your bare skin, you gasped, the sensation almost too much to bear.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

You hesitated for just a moment, but then you nodded. “Yes.”

That single word seemed to unleash something in him. He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming freely over your body. When he finally slipped your bra off, you felt a rush of vulnerability mixed with excitement. His mouth found your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, and you let out a whimper.

“Jongho…” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t respond, too focused on exploring every inch of you. When his hand dipped lower, sliding beneath the waistband of your skirt, you tensed, your hips instinctively bucking against his touch.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you.”

And somehow, you believed him. As his fingers found their way between your thighs, you let go, surrendering to the pleasure he was giving you. Each stroke, each caress, built the tension inside you until you were teetering on the edge.

“Jongho, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as he added another finger, pushing you over the edge.

Your body shook with the force of your release, your vision blurring as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Jongho held you steady, his arms strong and reassuring, until the tremors subsided.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found him watching you with a mixture of pride and hunger. “Still nervous?” he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not anymore.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you towards his bedroom. “Jongho!” you squealed, half-laughing, half-protesting.

“Trust me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you did.

He carried you effortlessly and set you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He undressed the rest of your clothes slowly, peppering your skin with light kisses as he exposed each new part of you. By the time you were fully naked, you were trembling with anticipation.

Jongho ran his hands over your body, worshipping every inch of you. A low hum rumbled deep in his chest, and a smile spread across his face. You shivered, suddenly feeling shy under his scrutiny.

Before you could speak, he kissed you, and any thoughts of embarrassment faded away. He explored every curve, every line, leaving no part of you untouched. You moaned, arching into his touch. Your nails dug into the sheets, grasping at anything to ground you, as his thumb brushed against the most intimate parts of you.

He pulled away only long enough to free himself of his remaining clothes, and your eyes raked down the planes of his toned, muscular body. As he knelt over you, your gaze locked onto his, and you saw the same hunger reflected back at you. You reached for him, and he lowered himself onto you, his chest pressed firmly against yours. His cock was hot and heavy between your thighs, and you instinctively shifted your hips towards him.

"Impatient, aren't you?" Jongho whispered, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

"Jongho, I need..." your words trailed off into a gasp as he rocked his hips, rubbing himself against your clit. "Oh god, I need you."

"How much?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours.

"So much,” you grabbed his ass, trying to pull him closer.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Good, because I need you too."

"Really?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"Always," he whispered as he pushed inside you.

Your nails dug into his back as he filled you up. He waited a moment, letting you adjust to his size, before starting to move. Your head spun with the sensation of it, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you.

"You feel amazing," he grunted, his lips pressing hot, urgent kisses to your skin. "So wet for me."

Your breath hitched as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you. "Please, Jongho, don't stop."

You had no idea where this was going to go. Part of you, the rational part, screamed at you to end it here, to call a stop and walk away. This was dangerous, it knew, but it felt too good to be wrong.

Your toes curled as the pleasure built, a delicious tightness coiling in the pit of your stomach. Jongho's hand slipped down to rub slow, firm circles over your clit and the combination nearly made you come undone.

"Jongho, I—" you gasped. Your body began to shake as you came.

He gritted his teeth, trying not to cum himself as the feeling of you convulsing around his cock almost tipped him over the edge. As soon as you came down, he slipped out of you.

"Why'd you stop?" you asked.

"Don't want to cum just yet, we're just getting started," he said.

Jongho sat up, shifting so that he was sitting against the headboard and patted his legs. "Want you to ride me," he murmured before claiming your lips again.

You let him guide you, swinging a leg over to straddle him. His lips traveled to your neck as you lowered yourself, grinding your pussy on his thick, hard member, coating him in your slickness.

Jongho nipped at your skin, mumbling praises as he peppered light, gentle kisses. "Need you," he moaned into your neck, sucking on your pulse and letting you know you left your mark.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, picking up your movements and pulling him closer.

He was big, filling you up and stretching you in a way that you'd never experienced. It was hard to believe that he was Taeho's son; you never saw this kind of sexual expertise from your husband, not in a lifetime.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with an openness you weren't familiar with. For the first time, you took a moment to just look at him.

He looked back with a hungry gaze, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other roamed up your sides, then cupped your face as he kissed you. You felt yourself melting into him, into this whole thing that had gotten entirely out of hand. You had always told yourself you weren't the cheating type, yet you were right there doing just that, riding your husband's son in ways you could hardly have imagined doing before tonight.

"You okay?" Jongho asked gently, studying your expression.

"More than okay," you hummed. "I feel perfect."

And it was the truth, no matter how insane it was. You leaned into him, gripping his shoulders as you rode his cock. "I can't remember the last time I felt this happy," you muttered.

It wasn't the sex. Sure, the sex was incredible, but there was something deeper that made you feel so whole. Like something had fallen into place, like something had made the clouds disappear to show the stars. It was dangerous, but you couldn't stop.

"This, us, it's insane but I can't stop," you panted. "I don't want it to end. Ever. I'm scared we'll have to hide once your father returns and—"

Jongho kissed you, tenderly and lovingly. "Shh, it's okay. We'll figure it out together," he said soothingly. "Forget everything else tonight. Right now, it's just you and me. No one else."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped from your lips. "No one else...just us."

"Just us. I'm yours, and you're mine," Jongho spoke between kisses, trailing his lips down to your collarbone where his teeth scraped your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. "No one else."

"No one else..." you breathed, losing yourself in the feeling of him inside of you.

The conversation paused as he bounced you faster on his length, pulling another long moan from you. Then he took your face in his hand and stroked your cheek.

"God, you're perfect. The most gorgeous thing I've ever laid my eyes on," he mused, bringing your lips to his. He gave you a searing kiss and tugged at your bottom lip before pulling back. "What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

You pressed your forehead to his. "Keep fucking me," you begged. "Fuck me so hard and deep."

"I've got you." He flipped the both of you, never slipping out of you. "Gonna take care of you," he growled into your ear. "Going to keep your pussy so stuffed."

God, you weren't used to a younger, virile man treating you like a sex goddess. You were the wife of one of the richest men in the country, and your husband refused to fuck you for years now. And suddenly you were with his son, and god, he was fucking amazing.

With both of his palms holding down your shoulders to the bed, he pounded hard and deep into you. The sound of your skin slapping together sounded down the hallway, but neither of you cared.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart," Jongho hissed. "Gonna keep your cunt stuffed with my cum. Make you so full, fuck a baby into you..."

"God yes, Jongho," you mewled.

You couldn't get pregnant, you knew that already. But the idea of being completely ruined by this young man made your heart sing with delight. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother. You always dreamed about a home filled with kids and laughter. You were thirty-nine, far past the ideal time for starting a family, but the thought of having a child with Jongho didn't scare you as it would if Taeho were your baby's father. You'd be far happier having your firstborn with someone who actually gave a shit. Someone loving and attentive, even if he was years younger than you.

"Tell me you want it," Jongho groaned into the crook of your neck, pressing sweet and soft kisses along your heated skin. "Say yes."

You bucked against Jongho's hard thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation.

"Yes, fuck, I do. Want it, want you, all of it, all of you," you chanted, words slipping past your tongue, leaving a bittersweet trail of its remnants.

Your words only drove him to be faster, rougher, harder. His pace was maddening, but exactly what you craved. It wasn't long until the familiar buzz started to make itself known in the pit of your belly. Your toes curled and fingers clawed the sheets as the first shock of your release rippled through you, making your pussy clench hard around Jongho's thickness.

"F-fuck, oh god, Jongho," you gasped.

Jongho kept going, his hand cupping one of your bouncing breasts and the other grabbing you by your neck. "That's it, beautiful. Cum all over this fat cock of yours," he grunted, pushing deeper in you.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck," you sputtered incoherently, eyes screwing shut as your orgasm wracked you.

As you came, you felt him thrust once, twice before finally bottoming out deep into your cervix and cumming in hot spurts. He stilled, allowing his seed to travel inside you, as deep as he could push. You could feel yourself spasm around him, your orgasm seemingly never ending.

His pace gradually slowed to a stop, both of you just trying to catch your breath. When Jongho lifted his head and glanced down at your limp, sweaty form, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, easing his weight off your smaller body to allow you room to breathe. You couldn't help but giggle weakly.

"God, you're amazing," you complimented. You winced, though, as he slowly slid himself out, the friction against your sensitive walls making you squirm a little. Jongho laid beside you and propped his head on one arm, the other running down your side, holding onto you.

You hummed, eyes slipping shut, not quite hearing Jongho's soft confession. "I think I love you."

The nausea hit you like a wave, sudden and unrelenting. You’d been feeling off for weeks—fatigue that clung to your bones, a lingering queasiness that no amount of ginger tea could soothe. At first, you dismissed it as stress, the weight of your secret life with Jongho pressing down on your shoulders. But this… this was different.

You leaned against the cool tile wall of the bathroom, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Taeho hadn’t noticed anything amiss, too preoccupied with his business dealings and late-night meetings. But Jongho… he’d caught the faint tremble in your hands, the way you’d pushed your food around your plate during dinner last night.

“Are you okay?” he’d asked, his voice low with concern. You’d brushed him off, laughed it away, but now, alone in the quiet of the house, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You knew you couldn’t go to your usual doctor. The risk of Taeho finding out was too great. Instead, you made an appointment at your maternal family’s hospital, a place where your name still carried enough weight to ensure discretion. The drive there felt surreal, the city streets blurring past as your mind raced with possibilities. What if it’s just a virus? What if it’s something worse?

The waiting room was sterile and quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights adding to your anxiety. When your name was called, you followed the nurse with robotic steps, barely registering her polite chatter. The exam room was colder than you remembered, the paper gown scratchy against your skin. The doctor, a woman with kind eyes and a calm demeanor, ran through the standard questions. How long have you been feeling this way? Any other symptoms? When was your last period?

That last question made you pause. You couldn’t remember. It had been so long since you’d even thought about it.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The doctor nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard before ordering a series of tests.

The wait for the results felt endless. You sat on the edge of the exam table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. When the doctor returned, her expression was unreadable. She closed the door softly behind her before turning to face you.

“Well,” she began, her tone measured, “the good news is, you’re perfectly healthy. The nausea and fatigue are likely due to—”

“Due to what?” you asked, your voice trembling.

The doctor smiled gently. “Due to your pregnancy.”

For a moment, the words didn’t register. They hung in the air between you, heavy and impossible.

“P-pregnancy?” you stammered, your mind reeling. “But… that’s not possible. I was told I couldn’t conceive.”

“Sometimes,” the doctor explained, her tone soothing, “miracles happen. Based on your test results, you’re about eight weeks along. Congratulations.”

A baby. Jongho’s baby.

The implications crashed over you like a tidal wave—Taeho’s reaction, your family’s expectations, society's judgment. And yet, beneath the panic, there was a flicker of something else. Something warm and hopeful. A tiny flame of joy that refused to be extinguished.

You left the hospital in a daze, the doctor’s instructions and prenatal vitamins tucked into your bag. The world outside seemed brighter somehow, the colors more vivid, the sounds sharper. You needed to talk to Jongho. He deserved to know. But how would he react? Would he see this as a blessing or a curse? And how the hell were you going to explain this to Taeho?

When you arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. Taeho was away on another business trip, and Jongho was… well, you weren’t sure where he was. You wandered aimlessly through the rooms, your mind racing with thoughts and fears. Finally, you found yourself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared out the window at the garden.

“Hey,” Jongho’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. How do you even begin to tell someone something like this? Sensing your hesitation, Jongho crossed the room in a few quick strides, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I… I went to the doctor today.”

His frown deepened. “Is everything okay? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, your fingers twisting nervously in the hem of your shirt. “No. Not sick. I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so radiant it made your heart ache.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Eight weeks.”

He let out a breathless laugh, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This is incredible,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to have a baby.”

His joy was contagious, and you felt yourself relaxing into his arms, the tension in your body melting away. But then, the reality of your situation came rushing back, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with worried eyes. “What are we going to do about Taeho? About… everything?”

Jongho cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and determined. “We’ll figure it out. Together. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you mean that?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“Every word,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. “You’re mine. This baby is ours. And nothing,nothing, is going to take that away from us.”

You wanted to believe him, to let yourself get lost in the promise of his words. But the weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was only just beginning.

#illusionnet #cromernet #kvanity #other side outlaws network #ksmutsociety #dovenet #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez stories #ateez fanfics #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez jongho #jongho #choi jongho #jongho smut #jongho x reader

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 days ago

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@zepskies

Hello my beautiful friend! I am SO ready to dive back into this series!

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too? You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says. Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—” “Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating. “The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

No, NO, No. Dean NO.

Bad Dean!

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!!

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate? You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester: For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach. Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart.

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.”

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear?

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you.

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest.

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore.

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze.

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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cry4mina · 2 days ago

Text

DYWTYLM? - Part 8

Take Me Back to Eden - Mina x Fem!reader

Word count: 8k

Angst/Fluff

Summary: Reader cooperates with authorities to trap Nayeon so they can lock her away for good but nayeon has other plans. Mina shows up for you in ways you never thought possible, solidifying your relationship and giving you reinforcement for the idea you already had.

TW: mentions of food, abusive partners, Nayeon is actually insane…death, knives, blood, suggestive moments, angst angst angst.

A/N: I was dragging my feet bc like only one more part after this and it’s basically an epilogue 😭 i fr love this series so much and I know I talk about it constantly but it’s just bc I’m just so proud of it. Thank you for taking the time to read it and I hope you all have a lovely day🖤🖤

A deep breath before entering the familiar building you used to call home, you look back to make sure the police are in their positions in the unmarked cars they drove over in to not tip off Nayeon.

A quick thumbs up to them before shifting your attention over to Mina who is in the passenger seat of your car. Parked in its usual spot, you can see her fidgeting and bitting her nails…she’s just as fearful as you are.

The worry in her eyes was very clear, even from a distance. Distraught over this plan you had concocted with the law enforcement to trap Nayeon and arrest her.

It won’t stop if you don’t stop it.

You are who she want and the sense of responsibility that you feel to protect those you care about is strong. Mina already got caught in the crosshairs…you couldn’t bare it if someone else was hurt by her.

Nayeon waiting for you in the apartment that held all the memories, good, bad, ugly, and even worse - the ones that weren’t yours too. All the energy that was trapped in that space, if the walls could talk, they would scream bloody murder.

9:45pm is when the cops were going to move in on the apartment, you just needed to keep her distracted while they moved into the building…you could do that. Looking down at your phone to check the time, it was 9:29pm already. Distracting her for 15 minutes didn’t seem like too big of a task but the fear of the unknown looms over your head.

What would she do or say while you were in front of her?

Another deep breath, you silently enter the building and make your way to the elevator.

It takes forever to get to your floor, the slow pull of gravity adds to your anxiety as the numbers go up,

Until finally you’re on the floor where this began…and where it was about to end.

Flashes of everything that had happen haze over your mind’s eye, showing memory after memory of what had taken place over the last month.

The note.

The text messages.

The rock through the window.

The banquet.

The hospital.

Everything she had put you through, now about to come to a head as you sulk down the hallway and to the wood that separated you from whatever would happen next.

The front door is intimidating, feeling the same rush of emotions as the first time you came back to this place after you found out about Nayeon cheating on you…but in no way did you think it would turn into this…nightmare.

It was a full blown terror now, seeing who she truly was, her true colors…it was all still so disorienting, even with the time apart. Having a hard time believing this is who she was even though you saw it for yourself.

You watched as she tried to take away your happiness for her own gain, you watched as she selfishly almost murdered not only you, but Mina…and what she did to Jihyo and the people she supposedly loved…all of you put in harms way.

A violent narcissistic temper tantrum was all it was and at the cost of all her relationships.

Taking another deep breath, wincing at the broken and bruised ribs, you take your second to calm down. Needing to keep her here and calm was the biggest thing so the police could do their job.

It’s hard to remain neutral when all you want to do is lash out at her, tell her that she will never be anything to you anymore but you know she’s not going to listen…she hasn’t listened the last few times you’ve said it, you suspect she would only be worse this time.

Wrapping your hand around the knob, you open the door- the creak of the hinges only adds to the tension already built up in your body.

Stepping inside, Nayeon is waiting for you by the counter, smiling and giddy, bouncing in her place with little happy movements- the exact opposite of that you were feeling.

“Welcome home, baby!” Walking towards you with her arms spread to hug you.

Flinching at the action, you take a step back and lift your hands to shield yourself from whatever she might do.

Nayeon stops in her tracks, sniffling and pursing her lips. Her brows furrow harshly, smacking her lips and going back over to the counter where she was when you walked in.

“Are you scared of me, baby?” The pain and sorrow reflected in her question rings through your bones, a dull ache that made its way down your body.

“You know the only reason I’m here is because you threatened Momo and Dahyun…and don’t call me baby.” anger filled words with the sharpest inflection, spewing venom towards the snake.

Nayeon lets out one chuckle, it’s evil in nature and aggressive.

“I figured that was the only way to get you here…Sorry about your little girlfriend. I know you’re probably mad at me for that, but you’ll forgive me in time. You will see that you and I are meant for each other.” wincing as she walks over to the couch, a predator who didn’t feel threatened finding a place to perch.

Nayeon plops into her usual spot and pats the seat next to her, looking you in the eyes to see if they have softened for her the way they used to.

Crossing your arms, the rage swells into fury.

“How dare you?…How can you possibly think that I would ever come back to you after everything you’ve done?!” Voice raising at every syllable.

“You cheated on me, stalked me, threatened to harm people I care about, you pointed a fucking gun at my face, you shot Mina, trashed my apartment, and you think that I’m going to what…just crawl back to you, Nayeon?! You’re fucking delusional!” Screaming at her, releasing every ounce of hatred you had.

A laugh that echoed the sound of pure hell added fuel to the fire the moment it left her lips. Nayeon stood up and walked over to the counter again.

“You don’t have a choice, baby! You loved me once…and you can love me again. Either you stay here with me…” unsheathing a large kitchen knife from the butcher block on the counter.

“Or you lose everyone you love and not just M-Mina…” Nayeon chokes on her name, a single tear falls from her eye.

The admission of her intent to kill only swells your rage more, the fire in your veins fueling every poison laced sentence you spit in her direction.

“Don’t you dare say her fucking name, Nayeon! You don’t get to play sad for the things YOU did…I’m not agreeing to anything you want, Nayeon. Not now, not ever.” Clenching your jaw while trying to wait out the clock but you’re getting more restless by the second.

Nayeon slides a piece of paper over to you, knife still in hand - a silent threat.

It’s a marriage certificate with her name and yours written on it.

“You sign this…” clicking a pen open and placing it next to the contract.

“Or I will take everything and everyone you love away from you…it’s your choice.”

The calmness she has about her is an eerie cockiness, batting her big brown eyes at you like it would make a difference.

Emotional whiplash, the bounce between insanity and the Nayeon you fell in love with makes your chest hurt.

You’re disgusted by her, her true colors are showing in a way that paints her in the worst light and her soft attempts to show you that the gentle part of her still exists.

Looking over at the clock, the time reads 9:40pm…only 5 more minutes. You just needed to keep her here for only 5 more minutes.

Picking up the paper and scanning it over, you look up at her to see the ring you purchased sitting on her finger…The pear shaped diamond in the middle with little diamonds laid into a rose gold band.

The one you bought planning to propose… the one you showed her after you found out about Jihyo…your face twists in disgust.

Pinching the paper at the top, you are sure to look right in her eyes and you rip it right down the center, tossing it mindlessly to the floor.

“Hear me when I say this, Nayeon…I will never marry you. In fact, the most peace I have ever felt was when Jihyo told me she shot you and that you were dead. For that day, I was completely and totally fine. You have terrorized me long enough.” Voice getting shaky as the fear clings to you, chest tightening with each word.

“Look at the lengths you’ve gone…look at how much worse it actually is. You’ve hurt more than just me in this, you’ve hurt Mina, Jihyo, and every other member as well…”

“Had you actually been the person you showed me you were, we could’ve had it all…but you aren’t and you never were…you never will be that and I do not want anything to do with you.” Hearing the words leave your mouth was healing in a way, something you had said to her previously, but she failed to understand.

“I already took her from you. Mina is gone, Y/n. So who do you have now? You need me!” Watching as she gripped the knife like she was trying to strangle it teeth clenched and muscles flexing and her own anger boils over…she’s about to crack.

“SHE STOLE YOU FROM ME SO I TOOK HER FROM YOU! SHE CAN’T HAVE YOU LIKE I’VE HAD YOU!” Slamming her fists down, shaking the counter and everything on it, huffing and breathing heavy while tries to expel the hatred of the one who “stole” you.

Nayeon winces at her own wounds before cackling manically and taking a step towards you, she pulls the knife up over her head and swings down at you.

Dodging the blade, you push her back against the counter.

The shriek released from her was hard to hear, the physical and emotional pain she was going through…you were there too but in a very different light.

“Nayeon! Stop this!” Backing up towards the door, reaching for the knob.

“Don’t you DARE fucking LEAVE! I ruined my LIFE FOR YOU! FOR US!” Another swing of the knife, her heaving breath filling the room as she continues to slash in your direction.

“I’ve been gone this entire time! You have done nothing but make my life a living hell! Put the fucking knife down!” Managing to maneuver around her swings quickly, expertly avoiding the sharp slashes as they cut through the air.

Fear takes over, terrified at the attempts to harm you again. How could it be so easy for her to just attack you like this? Grappling with the extent she would go to get what she wanted, you can’t understand even now how she would be so willing to harm you.

Managing to gain a little distance from her, you watch as her arm cocks back. Dropping to the floor you hear this whistle of the knife and a loud thud in the wall behind you.

The blade sticks into the wall, wobbling from the sheer force she threw it with.

Clock reading 9:43pm - you just needed to get through 2 more minutes and everything would be fine.

“YOU. ARE. MINE.” Throwing anything she can get her hands on at you.

Coffee pot, pans, silverware, the crystal vase…everything.

Dodging most things being pelted at you, the crystal vase hits your back - shattering and scattering all over the floor, a few shards imbedded in your flesh.

Sucking air between your teeth, you reach down to try and shakily pull the shards you can see out. The sound of the blood covered crystal hitting the floor shocks Nayeon out of this jealous filled rage.

“Oh my god…baby, I’m…I’m so sorry.” Rushing over to you with a towel to try and stop your bleeding.

Flinching on her approach, you take a fearful step away from her.

“Stop! Don’t touch me!” Tears now spilling, you move and the shards you can’t reach dig deeper into your side, torturously shredding you from the inside.

“P-please let me help you…” Nayeon is crying and sulking at her own mess, the craziness behind her eyes is still very present.

“No! I said don’t touch me!” sobbing as the terror sinks deeper.

Nayeon suddenly runs at you, swinging her fists violently. She manages to land a few punched on your face and ribs. The pain erupts from your chest, crying out into the living room where your illusion of happiness died.

Not letting you fall to the ground, she holds you up and drags you to the couch only to throw you down on it.

Straddling you, she wraps her hands around your throat and squeezes. Air being immediately cut off, you fight to get her off you.

“If you won’t be with me, then you won’t fucking be with anyone!” Hissed in your face as her digits tighten around your throat.

Fighting with every ounce of strength you have, you attempt to tell her to get off you but her grip is too tight. Tugging and pulling on her fingers, you grasp at her face and arms trying to just breath.

Vision is fading to black, you can feel the blood in your head trying to find a way out - tasting blood in your mouth…was this really it?

What about Mina? Thought to yourself…what about the life you could build with her. Her face flashes in your minds eye, you need to live for her…you can’t give up just yet.

Allowing your body to go limp, you lay still when you feel Nayeon’s hands retract. She starts bawling her eyes out, laying her head on your chest with her hands over her face.

“What have I done?…what the fuck have I done?!” Feeling her body shake on top of you while she sobbed into you.

Bawling your hand up into a tightly woven fist, you swing, knocking her clean off you and onto the coffee table - causing the glass top to break underneath her.

Trying to stand and catch your breath, there’s a heavy knock at the door.

Nayeon stands up, dripping blood from her back - panicking, eyes darting around to try and find her escape.

“You aren’t getting away this time, Nayeon!” Horsely yelled at her through the knocking.

Her face turns beat read, a fury like you’ve never seen before.

She walks over to the kitchen and pulls the knife out of the wall with a sharp jolt - never letting her eyes leave you.

Taking a step towards you, she hears the rattle of the door again.

“OPEN UP, IM NAYEON! WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!” The burly sheriff yells, you hear the battering ram slam into the door - it budges slightly.

Nayeon runs at you, wrapping her arm around your throat to get you in her grasps. She places the blade on your throat and is waiting for the door to break.

The wood explodes out of the frame, a million splinters waiting to be had across the floor as the three police men file in, guns drawn and ready to fire.

The problem being you in the way, she was using you as a human shield.

“DROP THE KNIFE!” The sherif yelled, she did not comply.

“Put your guns down or I’ll slice her throat and let her bleed out.” Calmly, almost gentle in nature. How can she have such a calm demeanor, you can feel her heart beating out of her chest as she tugs you even closer to her, metal still to the skin of your throat.

Panic set into you, the adrenaline was too much and your heart was racing. Feeling the droplets of blood gather through the slices and drip down your side, slithering down your body - you hear a familiar voice breaking the concentration of keeping Nayeon’s knife off your skin.

“Nayeon…put the knife down!” An angelic voice rings from behind the men.

Hearting filling with dread as you break out in a cold sweat. No! Why is she here?! She can’t be in this dangerous situation.

“No!” You shouted past the officers.

“Don’t come in here!” Nayeon tightens her grip again, pulling you to get you to stop fighting her grasp.

Already fighting her way in, Nayeon gasps when she sees Mina slowly making her way into the room, tightening her grip on you and scooting the knife up higher on your throat.

Feeling the blade start to separate your top layer of skin, a single drop of crimson descends your throat, the police see this and take aim at Nayeon.

“Mina…W-what? H-how did you?” Mina simply raises her hand at Nayeon.

“Nayeon, let Y/n go…you know this isn’t what you want.” Her voice is so soft…and sweet…this is an awful time to swoon but you can’t help it.

Willingly putting herself in harms way to try and help you, to get you out of this situation. She steps in front of the officers and tries to defuse this.

“You don’t fucking know what I want, Mina! I wanted you dead and out of the picture but it looks like neither of us are going to get what we want!”

Nayeon’s tight grip of you faulters, you wedge your fingers under hers and push them a few centimeters away from your skin so the knife isn’t in contact with you anymore.

This is enough to distract her from everyone else, pushing against you to bring it closer to your throat to keep her leverage.

The push and pull ensues and no one makes a single move, cops won’t shoot because you’re in front of her, Mina is crying and begging for Nayeon to stop when it dawns on you…

“N-Nayeon! If you love me like you say you do…then put the knife down!” Strained and tired, the please escape you.

Nayeon hesitates, her grip loosens for a moment and you take the opportunity to break free - using her own strength against her and launching her back against the window, causing it to break.

Running to Mina, you wrap your arms around her. Safety with a beautiful face, you fight your sobs in the grips of her.

This wasn’t over yet.

“If you are with her…” Nayeon starts “Then I have nothing to be here for…” slamming the hilt of the knife into the already cracked window - the spill of the glass furthers everyone’s focus on her. There is an echo of the glass hitting the side walk down below.

Whipping around, you see Nayeon sit on the window sill, the cops are shouting and you take a massive step towards her.

“Get off the window! Now!” The men yell, but her focus remains on only you.

“Y/n, I love you…I’m sorry.”

“STOP!” Yelled, tearing your vocal cord with the shear force of the scream.

Everyone freezes, silence fills the room.

“Don’t do this, Nayeon. Please.” Begging through tears, you can feel Minas energy shift.

Taking another step forward, you watch how Nayeon is analyzing you…only one way to save this, only one way to save her…not wanting her to take this route out, you were going to see this through.

“Nayeonnie…please don’t do this…if you love me, you won’t do this…” reaching a hand out to her, trying to get her to co-operate by using her own tactics against her.

The old nickname rings through the room, hitting her ears and creating a tense moment of old memories. A sob breaks from her chest, reaching for your hand and locking her fingers with yours.

“Come on, let’s go…we can figure it out together, like we always do…right, baby?” This seems to be working, she’s got her hand in yours, hyperventilating as the ocean pours out from her eyes.

“Don’t you get it, Y/n?” Nayeon sniffles.

“There is no out.” Swinging the knife and slicing you across the chest violently, the unexpected movement as you thought you had her in your grasps by giving her what she wanted.

A loud boom claps through the room as the warm crimson spills out from your skin, it’s a surface wound - thankfully but the blood is still ever flowing.

Looking at Nayeon and watching it in slow motion as the blood spilled from her own chest…her knees hit the ground, dropping the knife on her way and toppled over onto her side - gasping for air and coughing up her own life force.

Instinctually, you rush over to her and places your hand over her would to keep the blood in. The cops call an ambulance, and you try to hold in the tears now that the danger has been quelled.

“Y/n?” Choked out between wheezes and coughs.

“Yeah?” Sadness in the tone of your reply, you never wanted it to come to this…you wanted her to be held accountable but…this is…not what you imagined.

“Can I…ask you…something?” Her voice getting quieter as the sentence carries on.

Nodding your head, a tear breaks free from your eyes.

“Do you believe we can turn into different people?” Almost a whisper this time.

“I watched it happen to you…” replied through the tightness of your throat and the ache of what was happening in front of you.

“Do you wish that you loved me?”

The questions burns in your ears, stinging it’s way down your neck to your chest and down to your stomach.

“…No. I wish I didn’t.” Words hitching as you sniffle through them.

Nayeon lets out a soft chuckle, lifting her had with the rest of the energy she had to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“It’s been so long since I’ve touched your face, I forgot what it feels like…” tears of her own spilling as she chokes on more of her own blood.

“I wish I never reminded myself…I tried to fix it all but…nothing seemed to help.” Breathed through the trauma she had endured throughout this night.

“I’m sorry my love…I’ll be better in the next life.” Coughing and hacking after the sentence only for her body to go limp in your arms, eyes open but staring at nothing as she takes her last and final breath.

Time is frozen for you and you only, the cops lift you from her and move you over to Mina who is still crying and waiting for you with open arms.

“Get her out of here!” The cop instructs Mina, she guides to the door and into the hallway.

“Let’s go downstairs and wait for the ambulance to get here, okay?” Staring at your hands, covered in Nayeon’s blood and seeing your own shirt soaked in a mixture of yours and hers…you come up with responses or even know what to speak out loud.

Mina takes the lead and takes you out of what once was your home, now only serving as a point as a headstone to the memory of Im Nayeon.

—

The sherif and first responders bring down the gurney with the body bag on it, packing it into the second ambulance and sending it off to the morgue.

The EMT responsible for stitching up your chest and removing the shards from your side mentioned to Mina that you were in a state of shock and should be okay in an hour or so, offering to let you sit on the tailgate of the vehicle until you were okay to drive.

Mina never left your side.

Not once since she had you again.

Phone vibrating next to you, rattling against the metal and startling both you and Mina. She picked up the phone, answering it quickly.

It’s Momo.

“Yeah, Y/n is okay. A few more stitches in her chest and she’s in shock but she’s okay…Mhm, yeah…” Mina looks at you with sad eyes, she was going to say it out loud.

“Momo, Dahyun…Nayeon is…Nayeon is dead.”

Silence.

“She was shot by one of the police officers. She tried to kill Y/n with a knife…it’s a lot, I know…Yeah we can meet you there once Y/n calms down a little more…okay…okay text me the address…alright I’ll see you soon. Bye.” Hanging up and sitting next to you.

Reaching over to Mina, you grab her left hand and lean your head on her shoulder. Wrapping her right arm around you, she just holds you closely. Giving you a forehead kiss and cooing that everything is okay now.

The only thing that felt okay, was her.

—

Mina hired people to clean up your apartment, paying the lease and moving you in with her. After a few weeks you and her both were mostly healed, ribs no longer broken…only the physical and emotional scars remain.

Though you lived together, most of your relationship was taking care of one another’s wounds and making sure the panic attacks had someone to combat them but what you really wanted was to build on the already solid foundation.

It was hard.

On both of you.

The girls came over every few days to check in, making sure that you both were doing okay. Momo called you every day, coming over most days of the week to cook for you and Mina.

Appreciating everything that everyone was doing to show up for you, there was a grey wash over you. Something you couldn’t explain, but it was noticeable to everyone…you weren’t as cheery and joy filled as you were…before.

Often waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panicking from the nightmares of Nayeon holding a gun to your face or a knife to your throat - you would sob and Mina would hold you.

Three months of this was driving you crazy, never truly resting the way that you needed to, you drowned in your head and your thoughts - the flashbacks so unsettling that all you can do is sit still and hope they pass quickly while trying not to cry.

The lack of sleep caused you to not be present more often than not. Unable to hold a conversation for longer than 5 minutes or focus on a tv show, playing video games…food was uninteresting, skipping meals most days- it worried Mina more than she led on.

One particular night, after jolting out of sleep from a nightmare, you got up and put on a robe to cover your mostly naked body before strolling into the living room and wandering to the balcony. Taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs, just taking in the calmness of the night when you heard the door creak behind you - startling you.

Mina steps into the moonlight, still in just her panties.

“Mind if I join you?” The tiredness in her voice made you want to send her back to bed but you knew she was going through the same things you were, but she was trying to be strong about it for you.

Nodding your head, she walked over to sit in your lap, her legs horizontally across your thighs so she could lean into you. Her skin was cold against yours, even with the chill, you welcomed this contact with her.

Throwing part of the robe over her legs and covering her back with the other part as best you could, you both just sit in silence, keeping each other warm and enjoy the night sky together.

Looking up at Mina’s beautiful face, your eyes trace down her body to the scar where the bullet entered…your throat tightens, eyes watering as you bring your finger up and lightly trace it.

“I’m sorry…” choked out through the attempt to keep yourself from sobbing.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.” Reassuring you, placing a hand on the back of your neck and slipping it up into your hair.

“If I had jus-“

“No.” Cutting you off before you could finish the sentence.

“You did everything you could do. She was the one who couldn’t respect that she made a mistake and took that out on you and I…that’s not your fault…that’s her fault.” there is a hitch in her breath that makes you hold her just a little bit tighter.

Tears streaming down both of your faces, she traces the long sliced scar across your own chest and you sigh.

“My reflection doesn’t smile back at me anymore.” Whispered through the silence of the night, followed by your sniffles and you trying to clear your throat.

The silence continues for a moment.

“Your reflection is missing out…Mine smiles back at me because of you.” matter of factly stated.

“Because of me?” throat closing as you speak the words out loud.

“Absolutely because of you. You are amazing, Y/n…you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner and so much more…you have shown me that even in the worst of times, life can still be great. Look at what we went through together! Look at all what we survived…together. I know that things have been a little rough after the fact, but we are still building…and my intention is to keep building…with you.” Lightly crying in the memory.

“You and I, we can get through anything.” Smiling through the tears she had.

“Y/n, I love you…” cupping your face with her hands and kissing you softly.

The warmth of her love radiated through you, evaporating any doubt or self blame you were having. It was nice not having to question if she was telling the truth or not. Every single display of love was in her actions, though this was the first time she actually said it out loud, you had known for a while.

Lips parting, she placed her forehead on yours, looking you in the eyes.

“Okay?” With a silly tone, eye wide trying to provoke you to giggle.

“Okay.” Smiled back at her.

Rocking in the chair together for a few minutes, you realize that this is what you always dreamed of. The fantasy of having someone who wouldn’t give up on you, the openness to be able to talk about what was bothering you…hope for the future…

Mina, this type of undying love….this was what you wanted.

“Hey, Mina?”

“Yes, my love?” Facing you to make sure you know that her attention was yours.

“I love you too.”

She rests her head on your shoulder and sighs, relaxing her body into yours. This brings a comfort to you that you can’t elaborate.

“Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?” Feeling her voice reverberate in your chest as she asks.

“I would love to.” Planting a light peck on her forehead before resting your head there.

Continuing to sit calmly in the moonlight together, anticipating tomorrow as you calmly rock back and forth.

—

The brightness of the sun wakes you around 11am, calmly waking up for the first time in weeks. Mina is laying in your arms, still sleeping peacefully with her face in your chest. Not wanting to wake her just yet, you admire the calmness of the morning you’ve woken up to.

Mina shifts in her sleep, leaning into you more, and clinging to you even more. A small giggle erupts from you - feeling her smile into your skin, you stroke her hair.

“Good Morning, beautiful.”

“Good Morning, baby.” Her eyes still closed, tilting her head back and puckering her lips - asking you for a kiss.

Happily granting her wishes, you kiss her gently - a few soft sweet pecks before sitting up in bed. Nails tracing shapes on your lower back as you look over at her.

Bare faced and beaming up at you, you can’t help but think about how you got here. Everything that has transpired, all the heart ache and the worry…all of that leading up to this moment of waking up next to someone who would never dream of putting you through that.

In fact, she cares so much that she went through it with you…hand in hand.

Sighing, you lay back down with her, facing her and brushing a piece of hair out of her face just to tuck it behind her ear.

A bright gummy smile beamed at you sleepily, warmth in its light.

The sun couldn’t imagine the brightness or the warmth that she filled you with. Despite the scars and wounds you had both suffered together, she was still here…in the lowest point of your life she was a consistent ray of shining effervescent light.

“Do you know how special you are, Mina?” Tone turning serious for a moment, first thing in the morning.

“I could ask you the same question.” As she takes your hand off her face, softly kissing your palm before cuddling your arm.

The idea sprang into your head, something thought about in passing but too scared to focus on - you weren’t so scared anymore.

“Did you have anything planned for that date tonight?” Eyebrow raised and lips pursed.

“I was just about to ask what you wanted to do.”

“I’m…highjacking this date!” Jumping up and throwing on a pair of pants and a shirt.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Leaping after you, wrapping her hands around your neck and clinging to you.

“I just highjacked a date, Mina! I have to make it special if I’m stealing it from you!” Smirking at her.

“Anything with you is special.” Kissing from your neck up to your jaw, making you totally weak in the knees.

“M-Mina! Stop trying to seduce meeeee!” The way you whined at her brought out that beautiful smile again.

Grabbing your wallet off the dresser, you hand her one of your cards.

“Baby, why are you giving me your card?” Confusion in her tone and concern on her face.

“Tonight’s date is all on me. All of it. So, do me a favor…” wrapping your arms around her waist and scooting her back to the bed so she’s seated.

“Take my card, go get your nails done and get an outfit for tonight.” Kissing her one last time before heading towards the door.

“But-“

“No buts! Unless it’s yours, then yes…butts.” Blowing her a kiss and slipping out the door.

Her giggle follows you.

—

Getting yourself a new outfit for the date as you were still replacing everything that was destroyed.

A medium grey sweater that hugged you perfectly, some fitted black slacks and black dress shoes. Mina would go crazy seeing you in this and that’s what you wanted.

Walking back to the car, you try not to pay too much attention to what’s across the street from the store you were in.

You hadn’t been there…maybe you should go. You know the number of the plot…

Before you could argue with yourself further you were pulling into the dirt parking lot and stepping out of the car.

Walking down the isles and counting until you hit the one you knew it was at.

Taking a deep breath, you walk to the stone and read it.

~Im Nayeon~

~Forever in our hearts~

Fans had scattered the grave with wreaths, photocards, flowers and candles that had burnt out all their life force.

You were just happy none of the fans were here to see you visiting so you could have your peace in this moment.

The company did a very good job at covering up how it all happened, burying police reports and blaming it on a car accident.

JYP had been collecting letters sent to the company for you, the world not knowing what she put you through…they offer sympathy but it only caused you more suffering. You opted not to read them.

The online comments about you being with Mina were hard to swallow, everyone placing bets on who you’d be with next when they had no idea what you had already been through with Nayeon.

The world never knew what she was or who she was. A secret kept from everyone in order to protect the privacy of Twice and you while you all healed.

Staring for a minute, you drop your head and have a moment of silence with yourself.

The birds are chirping, the sun is bright and you were about to propose to your girlfriend tonight but you were here…somberly staring at the cold stone slab that Nayeon was buried under.

“I’m going to ask Mina to marry me today, Nayeon…I know that probably doesn’t sit well with you.” A dull whisper of wind pushes your hair out of your face as you sit down in front of her grave.

“What you and I had…it wasn’t love…it was never love…and I know that because what you put me through is something I would never put Mina through…I wouldn’t have put you through it either.” Eyes staring to well up in anger and sadness, tears falling and hitting your pant legs with a thick rhythmic thwap.

“But…Mina is exactly what I’ve always wanted…she’s what I thought you were.” Taking a deep breath as you carry on.

“It’s still so hard to wrap my brain around. How did you go from humming in the kitchen and trying to make my coffee perfect to…shooting her and stabbing me? And what you did to Jihyo? I just…” choking on your words, face twisting in discomfort.

“Not in this life or the next…Goodbye, Im Nayeon.” Taking a second to blink the pain from your eyes, another deep breath, you stand up and walk back to your car.

You’ve got some preparing to do.

—

Next to stop for flowers, and then you’ll be ready to go and pick up Mina from your shared apartment.

Though it hadn’t been long since the two of you had been together, it felt like a life time. There was nothing you were more sure about than marrying her.

Grabbing a bouquet of 2 dozen roses, you are officially ready to return back to your apartment.

Pulling into the parking lot and going up the stairs, you hear the shower running. Taking the moment where Mina was distracted, you set up the flowers in the living room. Frilling them out and making sure they were perfect.

Once that was done, you went into the room - removing your shirt and pants on the way and heading straight for the bathroom to join Mina.

Angelic singing echoing against the tile, her shadow behind the frosted glass washing her hair.

Stripping out of your underwear, you knock lightly on that glass.

“Room for one more?”

“Hmmmm, I suppose I could make room.” Winking before stepping to the side and letting you into the drizzle of the shower head.

—

Mina stayed in the bathroom to dry her hair and style it while you went and got ready in the room. Slipping on your new slacks, you grab the sweater and slide it on before brushing it out as a nervous tick.

A spray of the sandalwood perfume you like and a watch, you’re almost ready to go.

Sneaking over to your sock drawer in the dresser and pulling out a little suede box and stuffing it in your pocket quickly.

“I want to surprise you with the dress I got so go to the living room when you’re finished!” Shouted with excitement.

“Yes Ma’am, leaving now.” Stepping out of the room and closing the door.

Thinking it is a little chilly outside, you should probably grab your jacket. There was a charcoal grey peacoat you had that would match, and hand an inner pocket to hide the ring.

Putting the jacket on, you tug the ring out of your back pocket and pop the box open.

It’s perfect.

An oval diamond on a platinum band with two smaller diamonds framing the one in the middle, classy and elegant just like her.

Closing the box, you put it in your jacket and take a deep breath. Nerves getting the better of you as you wait.

It didn’t take long for Mina to emerge from the bedroom. Hearing the door open, you turn your head to see your beautiful girlfriend.

Holy.

Shit.

A bright candy apple red cocktail dress, hair done in large beach waves with a nude lip. The embodiment of heaven blessing you with her presence, elegant and sexy…you were very lucky for so many reasons and very aware of that.

“Oh, wow…” standing up immediately, you walk over to her - jaw to the floor.

Suddenly Mina gasps at the roses set up for her on the coffee table.

“Honey! These are so beautiful!” Running over to them to stick her nose in them and take a deep whiff of their fragrance.

“Thank you.” The eyes she’s giving you sends a chill, jaw still on the floor at her in this dress.

“Can you help me?” Pointing to her back and turning around to reveal her zipper half way down.

Oh, the nerves persist, rattling you to your core. Hands shakily taking the small zipper and tugging it up, you release the metal and hear it rattle.

“Are you shaking? Did you eat today?” Concern in her voice, she turns around quickly to face you, brows furrowed in worry.

“Yes, I did eat.” Sheepishly, trying not to make eye contact.

The warmth in your cheeks gives you away to her.

“Y/n L/n, are you blushing right now?” Her hands go to hips, the smirk she gives you makes you cover your eyes.

“You’re cute when you blush.” Reaching for your fingers to hold your hand.

“You might still make me nervous…” timidly expressed with a chuckle.

“Nervous?! We are just going to dinner, my love! No need to be nervous.” Kissing your cheek and grabbing her shoes to slip on.

Strapped black heels to finish the look off and a black clutch to match.

Catching her eyeing you while she fixes the straps on her shoes, you wink at her and taking the moment of separation to grab her long black jacket out of the closet.

“Thank you for getting my jacket baby, and can I just say…you clean up so well.” Winking back at you as you hold her coat open for her so she could easily put it on.

“Thank you,” kissing her and admiring her.

“Ready?”

Mina nods her head at you, you hold the door for her while she steps out and you’re off on your date.

—

Dinner was smooth, taking her to a fancy steak house around the corner for your apartment. The food was great, the atmosphere was quiet and the conversation was immaculate as always.

Unsure of how you were going to pop the question, you just let the night take you where ever it may.

A glass of wine or two and you were feeling less nervous than before, now it was just a matter of timing.

Unwilling to ask her in public, you tried to think about what you could do or where you could take her that would be romantic and still personal.

“Wow, the sunset looks really pretty tonight.” Pointed out to you as you left the restaurant.

“Do you want to go watch it at the park?” Perfect idea.

“I’d love that.” Smiling up at you as you set off.

The park only being a block away was a big win, especially with her in those shoes. Clinging to your arm the entire way there, you find a bench in front of a stream and watch as the sun goes down.

Mina’s head is resting on your shoulder, still holding onto your arm and sighing into relaxation.

“Hey, Mina?”

“Hm?”

“Well…” the nerves returned rapidly as you start your speech.

“You know you mean the world to me? You’re so kind and caring, intelligent, thoughtful…I really respect and admire the person you are.”

*Deep breath, keep going*.

“Everyday, even the days that wouldn’t classify as great, since I’ve met you, you’ve only added to my life. I’ve grown so much…I value myself more, and I finally know what love truly means. Through out the relationship we’ve built, you constantly show up for me…you are an amazing partner and friend.” Running out of breath, forgetting to inhale and exhale while you talk.

Mina is looking you in the eyes, tearing up as you continue.

“I would not have made it through…the situation we were in without you…and to be honest, I don’t want to know another day without you as my partner. You are everything I dreamed of and so so so much more.”

Standing up and kneeling down on one knee in the gravel, you pull the box out of your jacket, anxiously trembling as you pop it open in front of her.

Mina’s hands cover her mouth as she gasps in shock at the ring, the tears are now freely falling as she covers her entire face with them.

“Mina Sharon Myoui, w-will you marry me?” Quivering through the most important sentence of your life.

Mina is aggressively nodding her head yes, sniffling and choking back happy tears while she extends her left hand towards you.

Slipping her ring on her finger, you kiss her hand and stand up only for her to follow you in a massive hug, sobbing into your neck and squeezing you.

“You are everything to me.” Her tightened throat squeaked out.

Meeting you face to face, placing her hands on your cheeks and bringing you in for a kiss drenched in pure love.

Resting your foreheads together, you’re smiling at each other- holding each other and living right in that moment where you’re supposed to be.

This is what they talk about in movies. This is what the love songs are written about.

This is Eden.

“So, future Mrs. Myoui, what would you like to do for the rest of the evening?” Starting to walk home hand in hand, Mina’s ring finger sparkling in the moonlight.

“Anything.”

“Anything?” Eyebrows raised, she has something in mind.

“Mhm, what are you thinking?” Kicking a pebble on the street as you walk.

Mina can’t seem to shake the smile she has, you share that sentiment.

“I can think of a few things, actually.”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Well, I might’ve bought more than just this dress…and I’m going to be honest, I’ve been staring at you all night.” A glimmer in her eye, a look.

THE look.

“More than just the dress, huh? I’m intrigued.” raising an eyebrow at her.

“…it’s actually under the dress.” Casually dropping the information.

“Drinks before dessert?” as you turn the key to your apartment.

“Whatever you want, soon-to-be Mrs. Myoui.”