#it doesn’t make much sense but it could work

[kirammanswifey]

I gotta say you're one of my favourite writers as of late and I've been re reading all your work over and over again on my trips to college, like ot just scratches my brain so so wonderfully 😩😩

Would you be open to write them Arcane characters and fem!reader's sleeping arrangements? Like who cuddles who, who has matching pyjamas, who reads in bed

arcane characters' sleeping arrangements x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i missed this so much, i haven't updated for a week, college is eating me alive, literally. hope you liked this dynamic, my favorite was ekko's, lately this man has snuck into my heart. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The room is wrapped in a soft, relaxing atmosphere. The warm light from the desk lamp dimly illuminates the walls, and the sound of rain outside the window adds a layer of tranquility to the space. Viktor is by your side, and for a moment, you can see something few people ever have the privilege of seeing: his vulnerability.

It’s curious how, in his world full of inventions, calculations, and scientific advancements, there’s something so basic as the need for someone close to him that seems to overflow from the rigid facade he usually wears. You’re there, in bed, reading a book or simply listening to the rain when he suddenly drops his notebook next to him and turns toward you.

"It’s strange... I never imagined I could feel so... calm," he says softly, as if evaluating his own feelings. He, the man who has devoted his life to science, to logic, somehow can’t explain how your presence makes him feel something he’s never experienced before. You try not to show it, but the tone of his voice reaches your heart.

Little by little, he approaches, moving cautiously, as if every gesture were a meditation. He doesn’t make abrupt moves. His hands, usually cold from being surrounded by machinery, are now gentle when they touch the side of your arm. It’s a timid touch, almost as if he fears invading your space. But you understand, because you know that, inside, he still struggles to trust these simple, human moments.

"Is it alright if...?" He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he lets the silence ask everything. His eyes, somewhat tired but filled with a serenity only you can provoke, look at you with a mix of desire and fear. It’s a constant game of insecurity in his mind: Should he get closer? Would he make you uncomfortable if he does? But there’s no need for words between the two of you, just the silent language of gestures. You, as always, understand without explanations.

Without saying anything, you move toward him, allowing your body to communicate what words cannot. Viktor sighs in relief, his shoulders relaxing, and once he’s next to you, he settles in, making sure not to invade your personal space completely. His fingers, without thinking, search for your hands and gently interlace them, almost as if it were an automatic act.

"How can you be so close to me without...?" His words fade into the air as your eyes meet his. He doesn’t need to say more; you know he’s acknowledging what he’s never been able to admit: the fear of closeness. The fear of losing control, of losing you. But in that moment, the only thing that matters to him is being close to you.

"It’s just a touch, Viktor," you murmur, with a soft smile. Your tone is calm, without hurry, with the same tranquility he needs. And without thinking, he pulls you a little closer, letting the distance that has always existed between the two of you fade away. His breathing becomes slower, as if simply having you close gives him a sense of peace that nothing else has provided.

"I need you here," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, as if the idea of having you near is an anchor for his constantly occupied mind, always worried about the next breakthrough, the next experiment. But not today. Today, he only needs you.

As you both settle into the bed, a light draft of cold air enters through the window, but Viktor, almost instinctively, makes sure the blanket covers both of you. In his eyes, there’s a sense of protection, of wanting to take care of you even without saying it. As he settles in, his fingers find your hair, caressing it gently, feeling the texture, as if each movement were a way to calm himself.

At first, he stays still, focused on the sound of your breathing, on how your body relaxes in his arms. But as the minutes pass, he begins to lose himself in the warmth of your closeness. His hand moves to your waist, seeking not just physical warmth, but a little emotional comfort as well. Those small gestures, which for him seem simple, carry much more weight: he’s letting you in.

"I never thought something so simple could mean so much," he says, almost in a whisper. It’s such a simple comment, but it’s laden with emotion. A moment when science and logic fade away, and all that remains is human connection, the bond that is built over time.

Minutes turn into hours. Viktor, finally, falls into a deep sleep, his body slightly tilted toward you. He had always been the one willing to give everything for the future, for Piltover, for science. But that night, the future doesn’t matter as much. What matters is what’s in front of him. And what’s in front of him is you, calmly resting in his arms.

When he wakes up, your eyes meet his, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Good morning," he says, as if this small act of waking up together were something incredibly grand. And, in a way, it is.

Jinx

The flickering light of the neon lamps gently trembles in the air as she, with her boundless energy, is in her world, completely immersed in whatever has caught her attention at that moment.

Sitting on the bed, Jinx shakes a strange object she just got, making "bang, bang" noises with her mouth while pointing it at the mirror, her reflection smiling back with that deranged grin you know so well. Suddenly, she throws you a defiant glance, as if challenging you to enter her chaotic world.

"Come on, aren't you going to say anything?! I'm a destruction machine, wooow!" She laughs hysterically, clearly enjoying the moment.

You, watching her, can't help but laugh too, though in a more calm way, feeling that mix of affection and concern for her. You know that behind that laugh and overflowing energy, there's something deeper, something that sometimes gets lost among the explosions of her inner chaos.

At first, you try to let her do her thing, but you know the night is already quite late, and Jinx is far from ready to sleep. The chaos continues to spread around her, and despite your desire to sleep, you know that if you don’t act, there will be no way for her to calm down. So you decide to approach.

"Hey, sweets," you say softly, your tone calm but firm. "Don’t you think it’s time to rest a bit?"

Jinx turns toward you, her eyes shining with excitement. "No, no! I’m not tired! I don’t need to sleep... Not until you find something as incredible as... this!" And in a burst, she jumps to the other side of the bed and starts spinning around like a child, throwing objects into the air.

You know you won’t convince her with words. You get up with a patient smile and quickly reach her. "You’ll have to put that down for a moment. I promise we’ll have all the fun you want tomorrow," you say, moving slowly to give her a gentle tap on the shoulder, trying to gain her attention in a softer way.

But Jinx doesn’t listen. She stops for a second, looks at you sideways, and throws another object, as if challenging your patience. "I don��t want tomorrow! I want everything to explode now!"

This is the moment when you know you need to be more than gentle. You approach her with a calm smile, but one full of determination, and take her hand. "Baby," you say, now looking directly into her eyes, "I know you like chaos, but you also need to rest. Would you like...?" You pause, the idea of calming both of you down seems almost unreal, but you know it's what she needs most. "If you cuddle here with me, maybe we could rest for a bit? Just a little while, so tomorrow you'll be full of energy for all your crazy ideas."

Jinx watches you for a moment, her eyes shining with something between doubt and curiosity. "You... with me?" The idea seems strange to her, but something in your soft tone makes her stop, her body relaxing for a second.

Without saying more, she slowly moves toward you, her energy suddenly calmed by your presence. "No... I’m not tired, but... I can try," she murmurs. It’s strange to see Jinx so vulnerable, her impulsive attitude and need for attention seemingly subdued for a moment.

You let her get closer, and the moment she settles by your side, you feel that overwhelming desire to take care of her. Jinx settles into the bed, seeking your closeness as if, in some way, your presence is her refuge. She quickly cuddles up to you, without thinking twice, searching for the warmth that, for some reason, only you can give her. The chaotic energy from before begins to slowly fade as she embraces you.

"Promise, okay?" she whispers, her voice softer now, a tone you haven’t heard all day. Jinx snuggles even closer, her head resting on your chest, searching for that peace she so desperately needs, even though she won’t admit it.

"Yes, promise," you respond, gently stroking her hair, feeling how her tension gradually dissipates. It’s curious how, amid all her chaos and madness, simply being there with her, the calm begins to emerge.

Jinx sighs, and in that moment, all the noise and explosions from her mind seem to fade away. Her breathing becomes slower, more relaxed. You have her there, in your arms, so vulnerable, so unique. This is the moment when the chaos shuts off, and only she remains, with you.

"You’re... weird," she murmurs as she settles against you, already almost asleep, but with a little smile on her face. "I never thought I’d sleep so peacefully... thanks," she adds, and for the first time, her words aren’t a joke. It’s a sincere thank you, even wrapped in that strange way Jinx knows how to be.

You stay there, stroking her hair, feeling how she gradually falls asleep.

Vi

Vi is not one of those people who can sleep immediately. No matter how tired she is, she always has something on her mind or at least something she wants to do before giving in.

You find yourself sitting on the bed, already in your pajamas, wearing one of Vi's old t-shirts and your black underwear, the ones Vi used to love. You have a book in your hands, and as you flip through the pages, you watch as Vi stays in "active mode," rummaging through the drawer of the nightstand. She's wearing a sleeveless shirt and dark shorts. She glances at you from the corner of her eye, noticing your calmness.

"Don’t you want to sleep or what?" Vi asks with that cheeky smile on her face. You know that for her, the concept of "relaxing" is still something she's trying to understand. But it makes you smile.

"Yeah, sure. I'm just reading for a bit before bed," you reply, not taking your eyes off the book.

Vi sits next to you on the bed, giving you a sideways glance before flopping onto the pillow. "Pfff, reading? You’re always so chill… I, on the other hand, am already dying of sleep... But… I don’t wanna sleep yet."

It’s then that she turns to face you, a slight grimace of discomfort crossing her face. "You know what I want? I want you to cuddle me," she says. And although her tone is playful, you can hear the genuine tiredness in her voice. You know that Vi has a steel personality, but even she can’t escape the embrace of calmness when she feels safe. And apparently, that safe place is with you.

Without thinking much, you smile and adjust yourself on the bed, opening your arms to welcome her. Vi doesn't waste a second, immediately nestling against your side with a satisfied smile. "I thought you didn’t want to sleep," you tease softly.

"Too much talk," she responds, resting her body against yours, her shoulders pressed against yours, her breath near your neck. "Just let me be here for a few minutes."

Vi rests her head on your chest, and you relax, feeling how she snuggles in closer. The touch of her skin against yours and the way she settles, fitting perfectly, makes everything feel comfortable and natural.

"You know what the best part of all this is?" she asks, her voice soft but with that playful spark that never leaves her. "Having you here next to me, with those panties that drive me crazy. Why are you so sexy, babe? It's not fair to my mental health." She chuckles, her fingers shamelessly tracing the lace of your underwear.

"You’re also too sexy, babe, sometimes way too much. Look at those abs, they’re like steel," you reply, gently touching her delicious and muscular abdomen as you look at her, realizing how easy it is to make her blush with something so simple.

Then, you take control of the moment and hold her a little tighter, enjoying the closeness and how her body gradually relaxes in your arms. Vi remains restless, but as the minutes pass, her movements become gentler. A couple of times, you hear her mumble something, but it’s nothing coherent, just sounds that let you know she’s falling into a state of relaxation, the one she rarely shows others.

"Hey, why don’t you stop moving?" you gently complain, although you know Vi is always like this, even when she's tired. But you make a small adjustment, settling her between your arms and whispering in her ear. "Relax. You’re safe here."

At first, Vi doesn’t know what to do with your words. But after a few seconds of silence, she responds in a calm, low tone. "Alright, alright. I’m here." And with that, her eyes slowly close.

It’s curious, because even in the simplest moments, Vi has her own way of relaxing, but it’s never like what you’d expect. She feels more comfortable when she's close to you, when she can be by your side without needing to always be alert. Slowly, her breathing becomes deeper and more relaxed.

In that moment, you start to notice that the book you had started reading no longer interests you. With a small sigh, you let Vi settle in your arms, and she falls asleep with a smile on her face. You watch her, gently stroking her hair, feeling that in her arms, though strong, there is a peace you hadn’t seen before.

Caitlyn

The night has fallen, and the hectic workday has finally come to an end. It's time to relax, and as always, you have your little nightly ritual with Caitlyn. After dinner, you both get up, stretching lightly after the meal, while Caitlyn gives you a look that clearly knows what's coming next.

"Shall we brush our teeth?" Caitlyn asks with a calm smile as she heads toward the bathroom. You follow her, leaving the table clean and quiet, the silence of the night surrounding you both.

In the bathroom, you both stand in front of the mirror. Caitlyn looks at you in her reflection, her hair still tied up in a soft ponytail. "I think I'm winning in speed," she says playfully, but you just smile while brushing your teeth. It's a simple moment, but one of those that becomes part of the everyday, like a small shared gesture of complicity.

After a few minutes, you finish brushing your teeth, and Caitlyn, always with a little more patience, takes her time.

When she finishes, Caitlyn opens her drawer carefully and pulls out matching pajamas: a cotton set, comfortable, in dark tones, but with small embroidered details, as if you'd chosen it especially for her. You look at it, smiling to yourself.

"Another night with matching pajamas, huh?" you say as you put yours on, and Caitlyn can't help but laugh.

"I know, I know," Caitlyn responds, with that soft but amused look. "It's kind of silly, but I like it. It's our tradition."

It's a simple gesture, but it carries a deep meaning: amid all the problems that surround both of you, finding these small moments together is what truly makes it all worthwhile. Caitlyn gives you a knowing look as she watches you finish putting on your pajamas, a kind of silent challenge to see who fits the set better. She always teases you a little because she knows how much you enjoy seeing her in these quiet moments, and how well she looks in the set.

You both finish getting dressed and head to the bed, the silence being replaced by a shared calm. Caitlyn slides under the covers, settling carefully, but as always, she looks at you first, waiting for you to take the initiative.

"You know," Caitlyn murmurs, turning to look at you, "the usual. I think that position is the best for sleeping." Her tone is low, with a slight smile.

Without saying another word, you position yourself behind her, wrapping a strong arm around her, the small curve of her body against yours. Sometimes, it feels like the whole world disappears when you embrace her, when the warmth of her body mixes with yours. Caitlyn curls up between your arms, knowing exactly how to position herself so that the feeling of safety is mutual.

"It's a good way to end the day," Caitlyn whispers, settling into your embrace as her hands lightly grasp yours, seeking the physical contact that she knows calms her. You love how she lets go in these moments, leaving behind the strong and determined woman who can handle anything, and becoming that person who, at the end of the day, just needs the comfort of your arms to feel good.

Your arm wraps around her waist firmly, while you, being the dominant one in this moment, hold her protectively, your body aligned behind hers, letting her hair fall softly over your chest. "I’ve got you," you say quietly, almost like a whisper, and Caitlyn responds with a soft sigh, letting go completely in your arms. In that instant, it's as if the world shrinks down to just the two of you, to that embrace which is the only thing that matters at that moment.

Caitlyn turns her head slightly, seeking your lips to steal a gentle kiss, while your fingers trace the curve of her shoulder, as if you wanted to make sure that, for once, everything is right. "I love you," she whispers against your lips, with a tone more vulnerable than the whole day.

You both remain silent for a few minutes, just the sound of shared breathing in the room. Those moments of tranquility are worth more than anything.

Jayce

The night slowly falls over Piltover, and after a long day of work, Jayce finally arrives home, a slight furrow on his brow. He's always thinking about the next project, the next invention, or the last tweak to his latest creation, and the idea of resting seems to be the last thing on his mind. But this time, there’s something different, something that makes his step slower as he arrives home: you.

You, in your comfortable pajamas, waiting for him with a cup of tea in your hands and a couple of blankets on the bed. The simple act of seeing you seems to disarm him. "Today was... long," he says with a tired smile, removing his work cape, revealing what looks like his more comfortable clothes for the night: a simple cotton T-shirt and long pants. But despite his fatigue, his eyes meet yours, and a long sigh escapes his chest.

"I can tell," you respond with a gentle smile, welcoming him. You know that Jayce is someone who doesn’t know how to completely relax, and that gives you a little challenge every night.

After a day filled with ideas and thoughts, Jayce approaches you and sits on the bed. "You know how to make work feel less heavy," he comments, looking at your cup of tea, always one of your quick fixes to calm him down.

With a touch of tenderness, you offer him the cup. "This will help," you say, noticing how his shoulders drop slightly when he takes the first sip. "I promise. Tonight, you rest, love."

He looks at you for a moment, skeptical, but can’t help but smile at how warm your smile is. He finally gives in and lays down. As you watch him, you know Jayce is always the first to want to take control, but in this space, it’s your turn to guide him.

When Jayce comes out of the shower, he lies down next to you on the bed. He feels a bit more relaxed, but you can still see that his mind is running at full speed. You know this is the perfect moment to make him truly unwind.

"Would you like me to read something for you?" you ask softly, with a look full of tenderness. Even though he doesn’t say it directly, you know that sometimes Jayce just needs to disconnect and be carried away by a peaceful story, something to take him away from the constant pressure of innovation.

"You know, you make me feel like a kid?" he replies with a playful smile, but his tone is softer than usual, as if he really appreciates the gesture. "But, yes. I’d like that."

You settle beside him, opening the book you always keep on hand for these moments. It’s nothing too elaborate, just a light novel you know helps him disconnect. As you read aloud, Jayce settles into the pillow, eyes closed, listening to your voice. Occasionally, he looks at you, but his eyes aren’t as full of tension as before. In fact, he feels lighter, more at ease.

When you finish reading the chapter, you know it’s time to take the next step. Jayce is always a bit reluctant to the idea of sleeping, because he feels there’s always more to do, but you don’t let him go. "Now, relax. You’re fine," you tell him as you curl up behind him.

Jayce turns toward you, and at that moment, without planning it, you position yourself next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You adjust yourself so that he’s leaning against your chest while you wrap a strong arm around his torso protectively. He’s a bit surprised, but doesn’t say anything, letting the contact envelop him with a warmth that, for the first time all day, makes him feel like he doesn’t have to be in control.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice low and calm, as you gently caress his back, making sure he’s comfortable.

"Yes... It’s... perfect," he whispers, finally relaxing. It’s not something he says often, but you know that, in these moments, he really lets go. You continue to softly stroke his back, letting him stay in your arms, relieved by your presence.

Jayce falls asleep quickly, without trying to escape your embrace. His breaths are soft and deep, and for the first time, he seems to find some peace. You, however, stay awake a little longer, watching how his face, so full of determination during the day, is now serene in your arms.

Ekko

Ekko curls up on his side of the bed, but he's not ready to sleep. You know he has an energy that doesn't turn off easily, and as always, you're about to see that playful side of him.

"Did you know we're supposed to be sleeping now? We've got important stuff to handle tomorrow," you say, settling between the sheets, but glancing at him, hoping he'll relax.

Ekko, always with a mischievous smile, gives you a playful, challenging look from his side of the bed. "Sleep? Nah, I thought you were staying awake with me for a bit," he says, quickly reaching over to your pillow and tapping you with it.

"What are you doing?" you ask, laughing, knowing this can only end one way: a little pillow fight.

"Nothing, just seeing if you have a good defense," Ekko shrugs, giving you a teasing look before lifting himself slightly off his bed, ready to continue his attack.

Before you can react, Ekko taps you on the head with the pillow, and you can't help but let out an incredulous laugh. "Hey!" you protest, diving toward him with your own pillow in hand. The air fills with laughter and the sound of pillows hitting everything in their path.

"That's not fair!" you exclaim while trying to defend yourself, but Ekko is agile, always anticipating your moves. Somehow, he dodges your strike, and with a cheeky smile, taps you on the shoulder.

"Ah, I'm done being the good guy!" he says with a playful tone, getting up to attack you once again, but this time, he slides behind you with a move that leaves you unable to do anything.

"No!" you laugh as you try to turn around, but as always, Ekko outplays you. With one last pillow strike, the battle ends with both of you laughing, messy in the bed, the air filled with the fun energy he always brings.

For a moment, everything goes silent, both of you breathing heavily. Ekko, however, can't help but let out a satisfied laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Never underestimate my skills," he says, settling more comfortably on the pillow and stretching a little. But now, his tone has shifted to something softer, more relaxed, like that little burst of energy was what he needed to truly unwind.

"Please, I was about to beat you. You're out of your league," you respond with a mischievous smile, getting comfortable again in the bed.

But before you can say anything more, Ekko gives you a tender look, and with a gentle impulse, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug with a more peaceful smile. "That was fun, huh?" he asks, and in his voice, you can hear the more relaxed tone that makes you smile.

You, feeling the softness of his embrace, can't help but laugh again. "I'll admit it, I had fun. But you won't beat me so easily next time. You caught me off guard, that was practically cheating."

"Are you done crying?" he jokes with a sideways smile.

But before you can say anything, Ekko has another mischievous idea in mind. In the blink of an eye, his fingers are at your side, giving you a little poke with the tips of his fingers. It's nothing you couldn't have anticipated.

"No, no, no!" you shout, laughing, but it's too late. Ekko has already started tickling your stomach, a quick move that makes you squirm and laugh with all your might. "Ekko, stop! I swear I'll kill you!"

But he doesn't relent, knowing exactly where your weak spots are. "What, have you already surrendered?" he says, enjoying every laugh that escapes your lips. Your hands try to push his away, but you can't stop laughing in the silliest way, a mix of fun and surprise.

"I can't... stop... laughing!" you manage to say between gasps of laughter.

After a few seconds, he finally stops, seeing how comical you look with your red face and flushed cheeks from all the laughter.

"See? You can't beat me at anything," he says, smiling as if he's won the battle, even though both of you know that, in reality, no one is winning or losing.

"I hate you!" you say between laughs, but the tone is entirely playful, with no malice. And when you try to catch your breath, his fingers finally move away from your stomach, and his hands fall softly to your sides.

The mood shifts quickly, and the laughter fades into a sigh. Ekko, still smiling, settles closer to you, his eyes now softer, less playful, and much more affectionate.

"Admit I'm better than you," he says, though it's clear he enjoys the way you've given yourself to the moment.

"Never," you reply with a smile, unable to stop looking at him, feeling how the warmth between you both grows even more.

In a calm movement, Ekko slowly leans in, bringing his face closer to yours. His eyes, always so full of energy, now shine with an unexpected sweetness. No words are needed; you both feel what's about to happen. And before you can say anything, he kisses you, gently, in a slow way that takes you by surprise.

It's a soft kiss, full of affection, as if he's saying that the good things in life are these little shared moments, like this one, without any worries. The kiss is brief, but enough for all the noise of the pillow fight to fade, leaving only a peaceful hum between you two.

When you finally pull apart, both of you lie in silence for a moment, feeling how the warmth of Ekko's closeness wraps around you. He looks at you with tenderness, and you respond with a relaxed smile, as if, in this moment, the whole world could wait.

"You need to improve your techniques, babe, I'm getting tired of winning all the time," he whispers, and his words make you laugh softly, because you know that, in that instant, the only thing that matters is that you're together, sharing something beyond jokes and tickling.

Finally, you settle back into the bed, and Ekko snuggles up next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. Legs intertwined, you both feel calmer, safer. The space between you is no longer filled with laughter or games, but with a comfortable, comforting peace. Your breaths sync as sleep begins to approach, but not before exchanging one last look, one that says more than words ever could.

"Good night, loser," Ekko says with a playful grin.

"Good night, cheater," you reply, gently stroking his arm, while you both stay there, surrounded by the warmth that only comes from being with someone you truly understand.

Silco

The candlelight flickers gently in the room, illuminating the hard contours of Silco as he settles into the armchair near the bed. The atmosphere is thick with the kind of tension that only exists between two people who share something complicated, yet, at the same time, seek comfort in each other's presence. The room is silent, almost as if the outside world doesn't matter in this moment.

Silco, with his cold, calculating gaze, watches you from the corner of his eye as you prepare for bed, moving through the room with a calmness that, though peaceful, carries an enveloping energy. He doesn't speak much, but his presence is intense.

"You're not going to sleep?" you ask softly, slipping into your pajamas with a curious gesture. Silco isn't known for his ease in relaxing, and you've noticed that he often needs a push to let go of his constant vigilance.

Silco, without looking away, replies in his low, gravelly voice, "Don't you know I'm not one for sleep?" It's a typical comment from him, one that, in other moments, you would have taken as a barrier. But this time, there's something more. Something that draws you closer.

"I know, but we all need rest, even you," you say as you approach the bed. Without waiting any longer, you lie down on the mattress, feeling the softness of the sheets around you. Despite Silco's distant demeanor, you know he's watching every move you make. There's something in his gaze that says he can't help but care, even if he doesn't voice it.

After a few moments, he rises from his chair and steps toward you, his movements deliberate but slower, as though he's weighing each step. The air becomes a bit heavier, yet more comfortable.

"I don't need rest," he says, but his voice is less firm now. It's almost as if he's speaking more to convince himself than to you.

You look at him, noticing the small gestures that betray him. The way his eyes, usually so cold, soften when he looks at you. He looks like a puppy asking for affection. You decide to take the initiative, sitting up a little to move closer to him. At this moment, it doesn't feel like a power struggle, but more like an invitation to something more personal.

"You and I both know that's not true," you murmur, offering him a calm, almost reassuring smile.

He doesn't respond immediately but takes a step toward you. For a second, the silence between you both seems heavier, and for an instant, you think he might pull away. But instead, he takes hold of your wrist with a firm, yet gentle hand. His fingers close softly around your skin, as if it's the only way he knows how to communicate.

"I don't need you to take care of me," he says, though his tone isn't as certain.

But you don't pull away. "I never said you would. But I want to," you respond, and in that moment, you can see his expression soften, even if only for a brief second. Silco isn't someone used to receiving this kind of affection, yet here he is, allowing you to touch him.

He sits on the bed beside you, saying no more, but there's a sense of understanding between you. As if the simple act of both of you being in the same room, together, was enough to create a deeper connection. Somehow, neither of you need words to understand that something more exists between you two, something that even he can't deny.

Finally, he lies beside you, but not in the way you might expect from someone who usually keeps their distance. His posture is stiff, but close, his body aligned with yours, even though his eyes remain alert, as if waiting for something to happen.

Then, without thinking too much, you move closer and wrap your arms around him, hugging him protectively. Silco seems surprised for a moment, but doesn't pull away. Instead, there's a moment where his breathing slows, becomes more measured, and you can feel his body, so tense inside, begin to relax. His nose buries into your hair, inhaling your sweet fragrance.

"I'm not going to let you face the world alone," you whisper, and Silco, despite himself, doesn't reply, but his hand rests gently on your back, as if letting the calmness finally take over him.

After a few seconds, his lips brush your forehead in a gesture so soft it surprises you. "You're foolish," he says, but there's no malice in his voice. Just a quiet acceptance of what's happening between the two of you.

You settle down beside him, and his hands wrap around your waist in a nearly protective manner, as if wanting to pull you even closer. At this moment, Silco, the man who’s always preferred to maintain distance, doesn’t need anything more than this simple gesture of closeness.

"Good night," you murmur softly, holding him just a little tighter.

"Good night," he replies, his voice gentler, before falling into silence. You both lie there, intertwined in the darkness, needing no more words. The world outside can wait; in this moment, it's just the two of you.

Mel

Mel sits on the bed, her back straight but her shoulders relaxed as she watches you prepare for the end of the day.

The day has been long, but now that you're together, everything seems to slow down, as if only this small space of peace exists. The sound of the wind seeps through the slightly open window, and for a moment, Mel allows herself to rest, away from the demands of the outside world.

"I owe you an apology," she says softly, as her fingers glide through her curly, voluminous hair, slightly messy from the day. "I had no idea how much being distant from all this was affecting you." Mel hasn't slept at home for days; she's been too busy with work and hadn't spent too much time with you lately.

The look in her eyes reflects a mix of vulnerability and gratitude, and even though Mel doesn't express it aloud, you know she's grateful for your presence. You know this is an important moment for her.

"Don't worry about that now. This is a good time to relax," you reply, smiling softly as you move closer to her. With a smile, Mel lets herself fall back onto the pillow, closing her eyes as if she can finally let go of that constant perfection she always maintains.

You sit next to her, silently taking a wide-toothed comb from the nearby table, specialized for curly hair. Mel stays still, trusting you completely as you take a strand of her thick, tightly curled hair. You begin to gently untangle it, careful not to damage her curls, every movement meticulous, an act of love and patience. The sound of small pulls is soft, and you can see how Mel closes her eyes in response to the touch.

"I'll never get tired of this," she murmurs, her tone relaxed as you let the comb pass slowly through the curls that, though naturally voluminous, are soft to the touch. Each strand seems to move with a life of its own, and the scent of her shampoo mixes with the calm of the atmosphere.

With each step, the tangles and knots unravel, and Mel seems to sink deeper into the tranquility of your movements, her breathing becoming slower and more relaxed. After a few minutes, her hair is completely free of knots, and you can see how her mane takes on its natural form, falling into thick, perfectly defined curls that cascade down her back softly.

"I love how you make me feel," she confesses quietly, turning her head toward you, her eyes shining with warmth that she doesn't always show the world.

"It's my pleasure, Miss Medarda," you reply, giving her a sincere smile as you continue brushing her hair. The intimacy of the situation doesn't escape you; it's not just a beauty ritual, but a gesture that shows how much she trusts you.

Once you're done brushing her hair, you take a scented cream from the table. With delicate hands, you begin to apply it to her shoulders, rubbing gently to relax each tense muscle. The sweet, floral scent of the cream mixes with the room's atmosphere, wrapping the space in a sense of warmth and softness. As you work, Mel's skin becomes even softer, and you feel the tension in her body start to dissipate.

"This is so perfect. I don't know what I'd do without you, without your magic hands," Mel whispers, letting out a low laugh, almost as if she's discovering the peace that only you can give her.

"You don't have to worry, neither I nor my magic hands are going anywhere," you reply gently, enjoying the moment. Mel's closeness, her trust in you, makes you feel like you're part of something deeply intimate.

Once you're finished with the cream, Mel settles back into the bed, and you follow, slipping under the sheets with her. The room remains enveloped in silence, but now there's a sense of comfort surrounding you. Mel snuggles next to you, her head resting on your chest as she settles into your arms.

"Thank you for all of this," she says softly, as if it's a whisper just for you. "Today was a long day, but with you, it feels much shorter."

"It's the least I can do," you reply, holding her a little tighter, seeking the warmth of her body. You both settle in the bed, with Mel wrapping her arm around your torso. You feel how her breathing becomes slower and deeper, as if she's letting go of all the weight she carries on her shoulders.

Sevika

The room was dimly lit, with the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains. The cool air in the room wasn’t enough to counter the heat radiating from Sevika. You found yourself tangled up with her, your naked bodies under the same blanket, but somehow, the quilt always ended up on Sevika's side, leaving you exposed to the cold air.

It was a routine that repeated itself. Sometimes, her carelessness when it came to sleeping made you smile, but this time, the cold started to seep into your bones. The breeze caressed your skin, and you curled up more, searching for warmth. But Sevika, unaware of your discomfort, stayed pressed to her side of the bed, invading your space with her large body.

As the minutes passed, the warmth of her skin became overwhelming. The weight of her body on top of yours, though pleasant, started to become too much, leaving little room to breathe. Her deep and steady breathing lulled you, but gradually, you realized the air was getting thicker and you were running out of space.

"Babe..." you murmured softly, trying to move her arm that was resting over you. She didn’t respond. "You're covering me completely... I can't breathe."

The only movement she made was a low sigh. She didn’t seem aware of how much she was crushing you. You raised your voice a little more, with a hint of complaint in your tone, pushing her shoulder.

"Sevika... seriously, you're suffocating me," you protested, trying unsuccessfully to push her away.

Finally, Sevika stretched and mumbled something incomprehensible in her sleep. The quilt had completely disappeared to her side, and you were trapped, frozen in the middle of the bed. Frustrated and with desire building up, you decided to push her more firmly.

Sevika finally woke up, her large body lifting slightly as her gaze focused on you. The spark in her eyes ignited instantly, and she moved toward you with a sideways grin that made it clear she had already noticed your discomfort.

"What's wrong? Complaining about something else, little one?" Her voice was low and rough, laced with a touch of teasing, but also something more.

You felt her body slowly slide toward you, as if she somehow knew exactly how to get you back under her control. Without much you could do to stop it, Sevika moved over you, her body perfectly fitting against yours, pressing you gently into the bed. The sensation was... contradictory, both uncomfortable and delicious.

"Does it bother you that I’m getting this close?" she murmured, her face so close to yours that you could feel her warm breath.

The weight of her body covered you completely, leaving you breathless and immobile. For a moment, all you could do was look at her, noticing the way her eyes sparkled with a glint of provocation.

"What are you going to do about it?" Her voice became a seductive whisper as one of her arms wrapped around you, pinning you in place.

Her size was imposing, but instead of overwhelming you, there was a sense of protection in her proximity. Even though you knew she was dominating you, you also felt an invisible connection between you both, a spark that intensified the desire to be closer, to explore that space you had created together.

Sevika tilted her head toward you, her breathing faster. However, she didn’t rush. Her gaze was fixed on yours, intense and confident, knowing she had you under her control but also savoring the tension you both had built.

"Are you tired of me kissing you every time you complain?" she asked with a teasing smile before slowly lowering herself to your lips.

The brush of her lips against yours was soft, almost as if she were testing you, but the desire between you both became undeniable. The intensity of her kiss grew as you clung to her, feeling her body surround you, confident and firm, but at the same time, incredibly tender.

As the kiss deepened, Sevika pulled back slightly, but her gaze never lost its intensity, direct and unwavering, as if she were exposing parts of you she had never seen before.

Finally, the cold seemed to vanish under the weight of her body, the heat of her presence filling you and burning under your skin. The blankets that had bothered you no longer mattered. The air seemed enough as the two of you submerged into the warmth of the night and each other's embrace, still carrying the lingering challenge between you both.

[no-reallyimfine]

My day job for years was working with incarcerated teens at the state level, now I train the staff that work with them. I talk so so much about adolescent development and TRUAMA. This trauma not just includes our young people, but the staff too.

We do not live in isolated bubbles that internal or direct factors are the only thing that ever could ever affect us, we need to consider broader pictures.

Sometimes behavior that doesn’t make sense to us as outsiders, actually makes perfect sense to those performing the behaviors due to these things.

It’s important to lean in with curiosity and an open mind…

I bring a sort of "actually mass traumatic events have an effect on the public's mental health and you're NOT acting in isolation from that trauma, and ignoring it doesn't make it go away" vibe to the party that Americans do not like

[buckysfaveplum]

her weakness

summary: you’re an enhanced individual with strong abilities and one moral code- you only fight with them when your opponent is also enhanced. during the fight with john walker, that code gets broken when bucky is hurt

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: violence, blood, fighting, it’s a fight seen so yea expect things relating to that

a/n: i rewatched tfatws and this fight always makes me so worried for my bbs so yea this was born. I typed it up helllllla quick so I'm sorry if its trash, I'm not too proud of this one idk.

masterlist | send requests

Your feet followed closely behind Bucky as you approached the warehouse. Your limbs were stiff and your skin clammy. Your hand stayed firmly in Bucky’s grasp as you approached John Walker. Sam had tracked him to a storage warehouse near the square you had just witnessed brutality in.

He murdered him, in cold blood, with Steve’s shield. You couldn’t get the screams of the public out of your head, the sound of the vibranium as it slashed into the flagsmasher’s body. You would’ve thrown up if Bucky hadn’t pushed you behind him. You had seen much worse, much more gruesome violence in your line of work. But something about this was sickening, rotting away in your stomach as you tried to grapple with the truth that the shield your friend once carried with honor and pride was just used by an unhinged soldier who found joy in the worst parts of the job.

Bucky stayed ahead of you, following Sam as they entered the building. Your hand trembled in his vibranium grasp. His thumb gently brushed across the veins and bones of your hand, trying to bring you comfort before the scene he knew was about to play out.

As you walked into the large space, you saw him. He was too composed and stoic for what had just taken place. His tall and slender figure loomed as he casually walked up to you all, barely acknowledging Sam as he tried to get him to listen.

“Walker,” Sam started. The soldier brushed Sam’s stern tone off, hopefully delaying what he knew was coming.

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good,” He said, walking past you.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam took a few steps closer, trying again to get him to focus.

Your jaw tightened as you watched the man pace erratically in front of you. He was muttering quietly before responding as if trying to convince himself what he was saying had any truth.

“What?” He asked, coming closer. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do.”

Your grip on Bucky tightened, sensing Walker’s anger began to boil over. You knew a fight was coming, it always was. 

“I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!” Walker shouted, his arms waving now and revealing how off the deep end he had gone. 

You knew the moment you saw him in that fight. He stole the serum and took it for himself. This behavior just confirmed it. But the serum only enhanced what was already bubbling under the surface. The same John you meet on the highway. The same John who waltzed into the police station as if he had the authority or right to control Bucky and call him an ‘asset’. It was always there. 

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.”

Bucky’s smooth and deep voice cut through the tension in the room. You felt his grip on your hand squeeze for a moment, making sure you were okay. He could always sense your anxiety in the field. Your powers made keeping your calm difficult. You would never use them in battle unless your opponent was enhanced as well. You were a skilled fighter and agent, you didn’t need them. And it didn’t always seem ethical. But keeping them at bay, in check, could prove difficult- especially in heightened situations such as this.

Walker scoffed at Bucky’s words, dismissing the truth like it was nothing.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well,” Bucky said.

“I’m not like you!” Walker’s voice was full of disgust and resentment. From the moment you met him, you could sense his quiet disdain for your best friend. Looking down his nose at him like he was some scum left over from Steve's life, something he’d always have to deal with. Yet at the same time, resentment. Jealousy over his power, control, and abilities in his enhanced body. As if that’s what made him an excellent fighter. Or a good person.

Your spare hand moved between Bucky’s shoulder blades, giving him a subtle and quiet support as you prepared.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle, okay?” Sam said, taking a step closer to Walker. That shield danced in your vision, taunting you as he paced back and forth. “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record.”

Walker’s distress spread across his face, his brows furrowing and eyes scrunching as he tussled with Sam’s words.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Sam said.

The warehouse went silent as Walker stared at the ground before him. Bucky gave you a soft, tight-lipped smile before begrudgingly dropping your hand. He slowly took a step towards the man, joining Sam.

“John…” Bucky said, calmly. 

“You gotta give me the shield, man,” Sam said.

That did it. You could feel the room shift that second.

A disturbing serene aura washed over Walker at that moment. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to you all. His eyes were dark, lacking a certain warmth and compassion you had grown so used to seeing through that blue cowl. A certain warmth that left when he hung up the shield.

“Oh…. so that’s what this is,” Walker said. “You almost got me.”

You could see his grip on the shield tighten, the leather straps twisting between his fingers.

“You made a mistake,” Sam said.

You slowly took a step forward, your hands flexing as you prepared for what was to come. Walker finally turned his gaze to you. His eyes roamed you up and down. You could’ve sworn you saw Bucky’s jaw clench, that familiar muscle tightening in distress. Walker smirked at you before glancing at Bucky. He could read the protectiveness radiating off of your supersoldier.

“You don’t wanna do this,” Walker said to him.

Bucky didn’t meet his gaze. His fists balled at his side, practically shaking with anger. He never took pleasure in a fight, every punch or kick felt like a necessity rather than enjoyment. But he couldn’t deny how much he desired to rip that shield from his grimy hands.

“Yeah we do,” Bucky said.

Sam lurched forward first, Bucky soon following suit. Your feet moved quickly, moving behind Walker as your friends attacked from the front. The man moved with a speed you had yet to see from him, a brute force you could only get from the serum.

With a harsh kick, Walker sent Sam flying away, leaving you and Bucky alone. You tried to knock Walker down from the back as Bucky grappled with the shield. As you sent a harsh kick into the back of Walker’s knees, he spun quickly and sent a jab into Bucky’s gut sending him backward in pain and knocking him off balance. Before you could back him up, Walker slammed a harsh punch into Bucky’s jaw. Your heart raced and your hands shook as you watched him drop to the ground. You sprung into action, pulling the shield back in your hands and keeping Walker from smashing it into Bucky’s face. Sam leaped in, kicking the shield up and drawing attention to him.

You slammed a kick into Walker’s back, sending him stumbling forward as Sam slashed at him with his wings. Bucky leaped up, his arm aiming to come down on the faux Captain America’s back hard but was ultimately blocked by the shield. 

You were growing frustrated. Walker never packed this much of a punch. The serum raged through his veins, lacing each kick and swing of the shield with force and hate. As you and Sam continued to trade blocks at Walker, Bucky attempted to pull him down but was quickly met with the shield swinging into the side of his face. Your legs shook. The longer this dragged out the more difficult you find keeping your emotions in check. The longer you watched your favorite person in the world become decorated with blood and bruises, the more your ethical code began to look like a suggestion. Walker deserved a swift blast to the face and more. But you held off. 

Walker slammed the shield into Sam’s back, sending him down. As your two friends recovered briefly, it was just you and him. You surged forward at the man, dodging as he swung at you. Being smaller than the two Avengers alongside you made it much easier to evade Walker’s sloppy attacks. You sent a firm kick into his chest followed by an uppercut into his chin. As he spun and tumbled, Bucky was back on his feet and meeting Walker with punches. Bucky’s attacks quickly led the pair into a tight spot, backing Walker up into a heavy piece of machinery. The pair spun in circles over the shield, yanking the vibranium disc back and forth and trading beatings in between. Sam quickly followed you over, diving in for aid, but quickly was sent flying back by Walker’s attacks. His body slammed to the ground with a grunt.

While Bucky worked, you glanced at Sam. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, preparing to dive back into the fight. In your moment of distraction, the fear and care for your dear friend overriding your common sense to keep fighting, you heard Walker’s voice pull you back. Bucky was trapped between the shield and a machine. You rushed over to help but it was far too late.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Before you could register what Walker was saying, you watched as Bucky went flying. 

Walker’s forceful swing of the shield sent him hurtling across the warehouse. Your body froze as if someone had filled your veins with cement. The dramatic scene Walker had created came to an end with Bucky’s body smashing into an electrified pole and crashing to the ground. The might of his impact snapped the pole in the middle, sparks cascaded from the steel and flooded onto the floors; leading your eyes to Bucky. 

“Bucky!” You screamed.

His body lay limp and splayed out on the cold dirty floors. His face was smushed into the cement. His limbs didn’t dare to move. Except for his vibranium arm, which twitched and spasmed under his body; blue and white sparks burst out from the plates adding to the horror.

Your breaths were heavy and shaky, your hands trembled at your sides as the vibrating blue of your powers began to spark at your fingertips; mirroring the sight of your best friend’s arm. The room was spinning, at least that’s what made sense to you. Your balance was unstable, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment. You turned to spare a look at Sam, begging him for permission. But he was already back on his feet and rushing towards Walker. 

“Go!” He shouted.

You had never been faster. Your abilities never gave you the gift of flight but in that moment they very well could have. Your legs became weak and your steps messy as you neared Bucky. You crashed to your knees beside him, pain radiated up your thighs from the impact but you couldn’t care. It couldn’t be worse than the expanding tight pain in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

Your hands quivered as they hovered over his body. With him lying so still you could finally take in the damage Walker had done to his face. Blood was splattered all over, deep purple and blue hues bloomed across his cheekbones, and a nasty split had opened on his lip. Worst of all, his nose was broken.

The sparks continued to burst from the plates of his arm, his hand jerking and spasming with an unsettling sound of grinding metal. Quickly, you placed your hands firmly on the vibranium. A deep blue beamed from under your palms, cascading the metallic golds and blacks of his arm in your glow. The excess electricity from the crash moved in waves through the arm up into your hands. You focused as all the veins in your body became electrified, an aqua glow shone through your skin as the energy you. Your once y/e/c eyes were quickly overtaken, the cool energy overriding your iris’ and leaving an intense indigo shine. With a sharp gasp and breath, you let go. His arm had stopped moving, now lying as still and motionless as he did. 

“Bucky,” you said, giving his damaged body a soft shake. “Bucky, wake up.”

He didn’t move, his face slack and limps heavy as you struggled to turn him to his back and off of his arm. Your hands rushed to his face, cupping his cheeks and holding him close as if you could shield him from more of John Walker’s savagery. If someone had the power to take your abilities and trade them for the ability to heal, you’d offer them anything they wished just for the potential to spare Bucky from his pain even for a moment. 

“Buck… come on wake up,” the fresh blood from his injuries spilled into your fingertips, the crimson caked into your cuticles and threatened not to leave.

“Plum, please,” His body twitched; your lungs finally filled with air. 

His breaths were labored but there, his chest rattled as he sucked in much-needed air. Your fingers moved to his neck, their shuddering finally stilling as you felt his pulse return to a firm and strong pattern.

The sounds of Sam’s grunts and Walker’s cries swiftly pulled your attention back to your friend. He was up in the air, a long metal cord pulling on the shield and attempting to free it from Walker’s venomous grasp. To no avail, as soon Sam was flung back to the floor and across the room. The shield clattered to the ground, equally laid between the two men. The smug and determined look on Walker’s face enraged you, the blue glow returning to your eyes. Sam glanced over at you before rushing for the shield. He needed you.

You turned back to Bucky, still unresponsive to your touches and voice. He was breathing, his pulse steady. Taking in the broken state of his body, his face battered and bloodied, you couldn’t hold back your rage any longer.

It was as if something had possessed you. Gently, you laid Bucky back to the ground, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, your voice monotone yet determined. The expressions of concern, fear, and horror that had played upon your face just moments ago were now gone. You were cold and still, as you rose to your feet and walked over to the two men fighting behind you.

Before Walker could grab the shield, a harsh blast of blue energy sent him flying back in the opposite direction. The man was studded, confused by how he could have been knocked down. He looked up to see you rushing towards him. You were steady in your movement, not running but with each step winding up for the next blow. Your hands were baked in a fierce glow of aqua as you channeled more energy through your fingertips. 

Walker scrambled to his feet, preparing for the offense. Before he could even take a step he was back on the ground with another blast from you. A loud cry fell from your lips as you slammed him down with force from your power. As you ran up to Walker, he quickly sent a firm hit to your jaw. You stumbled back, regaining your vision to see him coming at you. You jumped up, knees to your chest and feet pressing on his as you blasted him once again. 

He was on the ground with you towering over him. His face was coated in shades of black and blue, mirroring the face you were trembling over just seconds ago. Good, he deserved that and more.

You blasted him again as he struggled to crawl away. You followed him, hot on his trail as energy overflowed from your hands. The shield was long forgotten by you, only driven by your need for revenge. Bucky couldn’t even answer you, couldn’t move. He needed to pay.

Walker’s body slammed back into machinery as you surged more energy at him. He

was done, hands shaking above him as he prepared for your next blow.

“We’re better than this right? Captain America doesn’t do this,” Walker said through his split lip and shaking jaw.

You scoffed; if only he had thought that way an hour ago. You wouldn’t be here. Bucky would be okay.

“Good thing I’m not Captain America,” you said. Walker shielded his face as you wound up your aim. Energy radiated from your fist up your forearm as you pulled it back to deliver one last shot.

“Y/n, stop!” Sam shouted.

Your blast was halted by a firm hand on your upper arm. You recognized the stillness and coolness that held onto your body. Turning you saw Bucky behind you. He was shaking as he stood, breaths labored and heavy, but there he was. Sam ran up behind the two of you, shield in hand as he looked at you. But all you could focus on was Bucky.

Bucky stepped forward, shaking his head softly as he lowered your arm. 

“This isn’t you, you don’t do this,” he said. Your nostrils flared as you breathed heavily, struggling to reel your rage back in. You glanced back at Walker who lay on the ground, glaring at you smugly. Your eyes shone brighter, your fists clenching as the glow intensified. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, taking your face and turning you to look back at him. “You’re not him.”

The energy overtaking your body began to fade as you relaxed under his firm touch. The uncontrollable blue glow began to fade back into your body, leaving you panting as you tried to calm your emotions. Bucky stood before you, vibranium hand stroking your own.

“You’re okay,” you said.

“I’m okay. Hey, hey, I’m okay. It’s over,” he said, pulling you away from the scene you had created. He walked you slowly back towards Sam, you shook in his grasp. Walker struggled to stand as he watched the three of you leave. The shield taunted him as it hung off of Sam’s arm, finally back with its true owner. The Captain America.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking at Sam. “I just….” you glanced at Bucky, once again seeing the battering of his beautiful face. Your throat swelled as you lost your words, choking on your fear.

“We got it back,” Sam said, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze before heading out of the building. His limp as he walked didn’t escape you.

Bucky gripped your hand tightly, pulling you with him as he walked. He didn’t make it far before his knees began to buckle, his body slipping as he fell. You were at his side in a heartbeat, arm hauling him back up beside you; refusing to let his body crash to the filthy ground again. 

“Hey, hold onto me,” you said. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder and his other gripped at your waist as you began to pull him from the warehouse, his feet limping and tripping as he struggled to walk. Walker’s body began to fade in the distance as you left.

“Why did you do that, doll?” Bucky asked as you walked, his voice slurred and low. Each wince and suck of breath stabbed at your side like a pecking bird, refusing to let your wound heal. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never done that. I….” you paused, stopping your feet as you gave him a moment to catch his breath. “When I saw you hit that pole, I lost it.”

“I’m okay, Y/n,” he said, yet his words seemed to hold no weight as he struggled to stay upright at your side.

“Your arm was sparking, Bucky. You weren’t moving. I-I thought that you…” You couldn’t finish, gripping him tighter as your voice shook. As if letting him go would give the world a chance to tear him from you once again. Your fingertips dug into his tact suit, determined to embed yourself in him.

“Hey, babydoll,” he said, hoisting himself up just enough to take your face in his hands. He swayed on his feet as he stood, intent on holding you close as he spoke. Your hands held him steady at his side.

“I’m here, I’ll always be here. But no matter what happens to me, I don’t want you to lose yourself,” he said, stroking your cheek. “I can’t have that.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you said.

“You won’t. I’m right here, I’m always coming back to you.”

You nodded softly as you rested your head on his chest. His hands moved to your hair as he held you close. Your hands wound around his center, keeping him safe in your arms. As long as you were around, no one would take him.

“You’re so good, you’re so special, Y/n. You need to be strong, even if I get hurt. You can’t drop your morals for me. They mean too much to you,” he said.

“I think you may be my weakness,” you said, your voice muffled in his chest. He tucked himself closer into you at your words, his head resting upon yours. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“You’ve always been mine,” he said softly.

---

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[girl-lostconnection]

been thinking about the punk x nerd au w simon and ohhhhh my godddddddddd

what if he begins running and working out during highschool and he fills out and discovers himself a bit more — and is significantly more attractive — and nerd!reader is all over ittt, and they actually start to like each other and they get closer.

what if he also goes into the military in this au, after they’ve both graduated and she’s devastated — losing her bsf like that, but they see each other later in life when he’s on leave and she’s elated and confused because that can’t be him, right? not her simon? and whose scarf is that, barely peaking out of the collar of his jacket on this cold manchester day?

hmmm just what’s been stewing in my brain!

Anon, imma be honest, its like you know something that I don’t and I’m all here for it cause reader just watching as this awkward angry teen turns into bloody behemoth of a man…damn, anon. Give me 14 of these right now. Also I’ll write about second part of your ask since it’s a little further away in the future.

THANK YOU for this opportunity to talk about Unsweetened Lemonade AU Ghost coming home from military🌟

The Soldier

Warnings: plus size gn!reader, Simon is hungry for more than just food, fluff, slight suggestive themes

Simon comes back home and it’s like nothing changed at all (like he’s still 17) — same rooftops and same streets and same tight feeling in his chest — the remnant of the war he was going through even before enlisting.

It still stings sometimes, deep inside of him, barbed wire on the inside of his jawline.

Sometimes it still aches, but Simon is no longer lanky and awkward with sharp angles and no coordination and a whole lot of rage.

Simon goes into military and comes on the other side almost twice heavier than he was before. (Twice as dangerous, twice as deadly)

The bulk of muscle and a nice level of fat born from regular training and regular meals finally shows how much sense his long limbs and towering height make.

He doesn’t regret the decision one bit, for the most part. (He only regrets he couldn’t sneak you into the base as his emotional support person)

You write to him and he gobbles up your every letter with the same hunger he finished every bite you brought him back in highschool, with the same hunger he held onto you before leaving after enlistment.

Simon reads these letters again and again until the new one comes.

He gets dropped off in the neighbourhood where you live (mates laugh and smack his shoulder, joking about lad or lass that’s gonna be happy to see him, joking that he needs to bring the pretty thing around because they’ve been dying to know who are you).

The duffel bag is slinged over his shoulder, your scarf still wrapped around his neck and anticipation coiling in his belly.

It’s been a minute since you saw each other.

Since he saw you, since he could wrap himself in your warmth, nuzzle his face in the soft pudge of your tummy (god, he missed it so badly sometimes it felt like physical aching).

Simon has been hungry for more than your meals.

He shifts his weight from one leg to another, trying to warm up as he fumbles with the written address on the scrap of paper. It shouldn’t be far from where he is right now. Just a few minutes and then he’s home.

Just a few minutes and he’s gonna see you again.

Meanwhile you don’t really expect any visitors, flat is a bit of a hot mess in Simon’s old T-shirt, cookies baking in the oven — utensils all over kitchen table.

Simon wrote that he’s getting off on leave in a few days or so and you are stress cooking because god knows he always ate a lot and you don’t know how well he ate in military.

So you decide that’s better safe and sorry and start getting ready two days before he’s even supposed to be back in Manchester.

Imagine your surprise when someone knocks on your door — three short knocks, sound crisp clear when you freeze looking through the peephole because what the hell.

On your doorstep there is a mountain of a man, for the lack of better word, you frankly can���t even see his face since he stands too close to the door — black sweater and awfully familiar scarf peeking out of the collar of his jacket.

And you are so baffled you almost miss the familiar “Luv, open up, ‘ts me” from the man on your doorstep and maybe he’s got the wrong address and looking for someone else.

But you don’t manage to finish the thought before your body moves on its own and swings the door open.

Jesus Christ.

He’s even bigger when you are face to face with him, the need to crane your neck just to see dark eyes with adorably blond eyelashes certainly doesn’t help with how astounded you are.

“Can I help you?”, you aren’t sure what is going on or who is that but then the man scoffs in even more familiar way, pulling the scarf down and oh my god. It’s Simon. This is your Simon.

“Forgo’ me so quickly?”, he’d sound annoyed if he wasn’t so happy to see you, brown eyes soft with adoration. And before you can answer he’s taking a step inside your flat, closing the door behind him. It’s cold outside after all, surely you wouldn’t leave him out in the cold.

“Though’ I was special”, the rumble of his voice kicks the air out of you, eyes wide and face heating up quickly because Jesus Christ, he’s big.

Thighs thick and hips meaty, legs looking like he could crush your skull if he wanted to (lord have mercy, don’t think about it, no, you must stay focused).

He’s big and he smells good (why the hell he smells so good, it should be illegal, you will look like absolute creep sniffing him) and he’s looking at you like he can’t get enough of you. Like this reunion is even better than what he imagined.

God, you just might need to crawl into the freezer and sit there for a minute because you are too hot and he’s so fucking hot, what the hell, who is this man and what did they fucking feed him in military???

“Simon”, the first time is more of an exhale but then he nods, shaking his jacket off, duffel bag hitting the floor with dull thump and in the next moment you are all over him.

“Simon”, your hands wrapping around him (you are NOT gonna think that your two hands are not enough to close around his midriff) and face pressing to his chest — pectoral muscles cushioning against your cheek.

Oh, this is bliss. This is so good you just might forget about anything else.

You now know where you’d like to be buried.

In this man chest, please.

And Simon can’t help but hum, the sound low and pleased — his hands hoisting you up so he can get a grip on your thighs, fingers sinking into the meat of them and bloody hell, this is good.

This is fucking lovely.

He’d love to have his head between these thighs of yours.

As a matter of fact, could you maybe suffocate him with them so he can die happy (and hard as a rock)? Please?

But it can wait a little because you are finally in his hands, your arms wrapped now around his shoulders, eyes shining with absolute joy — looking at him like he’s everything. Like you are happy. Like you’ve been waiting for him.

He’s here. Simon is home.

Simon nuzzles his nose into your cheek, teeth itching to sink into the softness of it, itching to take a bite, itching to lick the blood off—

Ghost hoists you up a little higher because there’s no need for you to feel just how happy he is to see you. Not yet, at least.

“Yeah, luv, told ye, it’s me”, he murmurs, practically vibrating with satisfaction when your grip on him tightens.

Yeah, that’s right, don’t let go of him. Sink yourself into him just as he wants into you, taste the blood from his veins — it’s all yours anyway, he’s all yours.

Always been.

It takes him a few minutes to actually let you down, body immediately aching for the warmth and softness he’s been missing so badly.

But he can smell that you’ve been cooking something and if it’s okay with you he’s willing to sate his hunger with something more traditional.

Simon eats and keeps a close eye on you eating (can’t have you go hungry on him), passing the best bites back, pressing them against your lips — eyes half-lidded and heavy when your tongue accidentally flicks against the pads of his fingers.

Simon leaves the kitchen only when you both are full and sated, the button on his jeans popped open because well, maybe he was hungry for your meals too.

Can you really blame him? He’s been away so long, he just needs to catch up on everything he missed.

Simon pulls you onto the couch to tuck in to his side, mumbles something about “afternoon nap, luv”.

He is a lot like sated predator, all lazy grace and heavy bulk and heat rolling off in waves. Simon nuzzles his big head into your neck, palms holding onto the small of your back and your thigh, splayed over them possessively. Holding you close.

He’s out cold in the matter of minutes, finally relaxed and full and so warm. Finally with you. Not going anywhere, not leaving the side of his lovely sweetheart.

All yours, you just got to let him stay and protect you.

Just let him stay and love you, devour you, keep you warm and soft and round with happiness.

Just let him and he’s going to make sure you never regret it.

[sunsburns]

the sweetest taboo — arcane (league of legends) !

⟢ content summary. tropes & relationship headcanons with arcane characters

⟢ characters. vi, jinx, cait, ekko, jayce, viktor

⟢ authors note. love making cute little stuff like these, thx sm for this request anon <3

vi & enemies to lovers (imagine vi joined the firelights instead of the pigs)

you wanted to see her fall so badly.

from the moment ekko introduces you to vi, there’s no denying the tension between you. whether it’s a disagreement about how to handle a situation or something personal, you're constantly at odds.

every conversation feels like a challenge, and you’re always testing each other’s limits.

in every interaction, there’s a fight—both verbal and, occasionally, physical. she doesn’t pull any punches, and neither do you.

you and vi are paired up for a high-stakes mission that requires precise planning and execution. what could possibly go wrong?

vi, not used to following orders, pushes back against your every suggestion, questioning your methods and trying to take shortcuts.

you feel your patience wearing thin as vi constantly does things her way, disregarding your carefully laid plans. every decision becomes a battleground—she insists on rushing in without thinking, while you want to take your time and survey the situation first.

by the end of the mission, you’ve somehow made it through despite the odds—frustration, arguments, and near-failures (and death). the sense of accomplishment feels sweeter because you did it together, even if it wasn’t easy.

as the two of you spend more time together, you start to see past the tough exterior that vi puts up. In rare moments, she shows a vulnerability that surprises you. maybe it's in the middle of a fight where she hesitates, or maybe it's in a quiet moment when the chaos around you both settles, and you see her exhaustion—physical and emotional.

these glimpses into her real self make you start questioning the assumptions you had about her. is she really just a hothead, or is there more beneath the surface?

after a particularly gruelling mission, you both find yourselves sitting in silence, patching up your wounds. vi’s usually the first to crack a joke or make light of the situation, but tonight, she’s quiet. you notice her rubbing the scar on her arm, and you can see the tiredness in her eyes. for the first time, the animosity between you feels a little lighter. you don’t say anything, but you sit in comfortable silence, the distance between you shrinking.

you’re both forced to work together more often, and as time goes on, you begin to realize that vi’s brashness and unpredictability balance out your nature. when you argue, it’s less about who’s right or wrong and more about learning to adapt to each other’s methods.

slowly, you start realizing that you rely on her just as much as she relies on you—she covers your blind spots, and you bring stability to her chaos.

she jumps into the fray with reckless abandon, and you follow her lead—trusting her instincts for the first time. when the dust settles and you both make it out alive, you catch her looking at you with something unspoken in her eyes. she gives a half-smile and you cannot stop thinking about it for a few weeks.

you start noticing small things. vi isn’t as quick to argue with you anymore; in fact, she starts making little sarcastic remarks and playful jabs that are different from the insults you used to exchange. the teasing becomes more frequent, but there’s an undercurrent of something more intimate now. she might nudge your shoulder when she’s pleased with something you did, or shoot you a smirk when she catches you staring at her for a little too long.

jinx & fish out of water

even though you feel out of place in zaun, jinx instinctively feels the need to protect you. seeing how uncomfortable you are in the chaos of zaun, jinx acts as a shield, drawing attention away from you when things get dangerous, whether it’s with hostile locals or threats from other groups.

jinx might not be the most traditional teacher, but she guides you through zaun's tough environment. she shows you the ropes, from how to barter with street vendors to how to defend yourself if things get physical.

your differences are stark when it comes to how you approach danger. jinx is spontaneous and unpredictable, while you are more cautious, always thinking about the potential consequences.

this sometimes leads to tension, especially when you're trying to slow jinx down from acting on a wild idea, but it also shows how you balance each other out.

jinx’s chaotic nature is overwhelming at times, but it also brings out a side of you you never knew existed. where you once clung to stability, you now find yourself caught up in jinx’s wild adventures, learning to enjoy the rush and thrill of unpredictability, even if it scares you.

despite the wild, chaotic surroundings, you and jinx share moments of unexpected intimacy. whether it’s sitting side-by-side in the dark, sharing stories about your lives before the downfall of zaun, or lying next to each other after a rough day, these moments make you realize that you’ve found something real in the madness.

jinx expresses her affection in her own unique way. sometimes it’s in the form of an impulsive kiss or an unexpected act of care, like fixing your hair or bringing you something she thinks will make you smile.

ekko & second chances

the fight that tore you apart wasn’t just words—it was emotional, raw, and devastating. maybe ekko was so focused on his mission for zaun that he pushed you aside, saying something hurtful like, “this is bigger than you and me—you wouldn’t understand.”

the words lingered, and no matter how much you wanted to stay, it felt like ekko had chosen his crusade over you.

years later, you’re mid-mission in piltover, tracking a stolen resource. you hear his voice before you see him.

his voice is a mix of shock and disbelief when he realizes it’s you. you turn, and there’s ekko—older, sharper, with an air of maturity, but his wide eyes and hesitant smile are pure nostalgia.

ekko doesn’t immediately try to explain everything—he’s smart enough to know it won’t fix things overnight. instead, he focuses on showing you he’s changed.

when your equipment breaks during a mission, he’s already fixing it before you even ask.

he shows up to help, even when you don’t want him to. when you call him out on it, he shrugs and says, “you can hate me all you want, but i’m not leaving you to handle this alone.”

during a mission in zaun, you find yourselves hiding in one of your old hangout spots—a small nook under a collapsed bridge where you used to plan wild schemes as kids. it brings back old memories, and the two of you try not to comment how you do not fit in there anymore.

he gives you a makeshift communicator as an apology.

you don’t immediately forgive him, but you start to let him back in little by little. asking him for advice on a job, checking in on the firelight base every once in a while.

he let you stay the night, showed you to your old room and everything. and then you stayed the night after that. and the night after that.

when you’re working late on a plan, ekko shows up with food, claiming he “just happened to be in the area.” you roll your eyes but let him stay.

as time passes, you notice how he listens more—how he makes a point to ask your opinion and actually consider it. he’s grown, and it shows in the small, thoughtful ways he interacts with you.

during a dangerous mission, you’re cornered, and ekko jumps in to shield you. it’s reckless, but it reminds you of the boy who always put others before himself, even at his own expense.

ekko doesn’t make a big, dramatic declaration of love. instead, it’s quiet and vulnerable, like him.

“i didn’t just miss you,” he says one night, while you’re sitting on a rooftop overlooking zaun. “i loved you. i think i always did, even when i didn’t know how to show it.”

jayce & friends to lovers

inserperable. no other word to describe it.

people constantly assume you’re already a couple because you’re rarely seen apart. jayce just laughs it off, saying, “nah, we’re just close,” while you both ignore the way your cheeks heat up.

whether it’s work, errands, or grabbing food, jayce naturally gravitates toward you, like it’s second nature to have you around.

you’ve developed little routines together without even realizing it. maybe it’s getting coffee every morning from the same spot, trading lunch when one of you forgets, or walking each other home after a long day.

you two have endless conversations about everything and nothing. jayce loves bouncing ideas off you, and he’s constantly sharing his thoughts, whether it’s about a new invention or a random observation.

“does it ever freak you out how fast hextech is evolving? like, what if we accidentally invent something terrifying?” he muses while you laugh and call him dramatic.

your friendship is filled with countless inside jokes and nicknames that no one else understands. jayce loves seeing the confused looks on people’s faces when the two of you burst out laughing over something random.

jayce likes fixing things for you, whether it’s repairing something broken or building something new just to make your life easier.

he loves surprising you with practical but meaningful gifts, like a gadget he made specifically for your needs.

jayce has moments that feel a little too intimate for “just friends.” maybe it’s the way he brushes his fingers against yours when handing you something, or how he gets distracted watching you talk about something you’re passionate about.

jayce is the kind of guy who doesn’t immediately realize he’s in love. it hits him in the middle of a mundane moment, like seeing you laugh at something, and he thinks, oh. oh no.

he starts doing things he wouldn’t normally do for just anyone, like learning how to cook a dish you love or reading up on something you’re sincere about so he can talk about it with you.

he’s big on physical affection. even as friends, he was the type to give casual hugs or drape an arm around your shoulders. in a relationship, he’s almost always touching you—holding hands, leaning into you, or brushing hair out of your face.

viktor & academic rivals

he does not fuck with you at all at first.

viktor finds your work frustratingly impressive, often critiquing your methods to hide his own admiration.

the two of you are constantly debating and trying to outdo each other, whether it’s in experiments, theories, or even harmless bets (like who can finish designing a prototype faster).

he does warm up to you eventually.

not by choice, though.

it's because heimerdinger put the two of you as lab partners for a project.

mutual respect grows slowly, as viktor starts to see your perspective and vice versa.

viktor loves having late-night brainstorming sessions with you, where the two of you drink tea (or coffee, if the stakes are high) and talk until the early hours. he secretly enjoys how your conversations stray into personal topics.

he isn't one for grand gestures but shows he cares in small ways—like leaving extra parts for your inventions or staying up to help you with research, even if he’s exhausted.

he remembers every detail you mention, no matter how trivial. if you once offhandedly said you like a certain type of snack, he’ll "coincidentally" have it in the lab.

viktor gets quietly jealous when someone else praises your work too much, though he'll never admit it. instead, he'll just throw himself deeper into his own projects to "prove" himself.

you often lose track of time when working together, forgetting meals and proper rest. while viktor is typically the culprit of this, you will sometimes pull him away, insisting on taking a break. this becomes their unspoken routine, with you caring for viktor when he pushes himself too far.

if you openly compliment him—whether it’s his work or appearance—he struggles to respond and often mutters, "it's nothing," while his ears turn red.

when you catch him staring, viktor pretends to be deep in thought about something else.

outside the lab, viktor loves quiet evenings with you, reading books or sketching ideas while the other works nearby. it's in these moments he realizes how much he treasures his presence.

oh, and don't forget that he is incredibly sassy omg. like when the two of you get heated, things get heated.

[ilonii]

Roomies S.G.

✧ s.m - the everyday life of you and roommate satoru gojo

w.c - 1.1k

warnings. fem reader, use of "y/n" general fluff, mild nudity, flirtatious relationship, sarcasm, etc. brief mentions of aot with possible spoilers

an. first post in the jjk roomie series, really hope you guys enjoy.

Roommate Gojo who moved in with you four years ago and hasn’t stopped bothering ever you since.

Roommate Gojo who has absolutely no sense of personal space. If you’re anywhere within a five-foot radius, he’s right on top of you.

“Gojo please, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really appreciated it if you backed off”

“No can do pretty”

“For the love of God.”

Roommate Gojo who is a bit of a…free spirit. He thinks his body is a masterpiece and should therefore, be shared with the world. He walks around with no shirt, pees with the door open, sleeps naked, certainly not with the door closed, leaves the bathroom in nothing but a towel and so much more.

Roommate Gojo who eats enough to feed a small army. You do the cooking; he does the eating. Meal preps that were supposed to last two weeks, don’t make it three days. Cakes and cookies you’ve baked for parties disappear overnight.

“Gojo, what happened to the four dozen cookies I made last night”

“Oh um, I ate them”

“ALL OF THEM?”

“Yeah”

“You didn’t see the note?”

“What note?”

“The one that said, “do not eat, naked for party””

“Oh, that’s what that little was, I accidently ate it”

“You ate it?”

“It was in the way of my cookies…”

“What is wrong with you.”

Roommate Gojo who never sleeps and makes sure you don't either.

“Gojo please, its so loud, turn it offfff”

Silence.

“Gojo? Hellloooo”

Of course, he was wearing those god forsaken headphones.

“GOJO TURN IT OFF”

“Hey wtf, what are you doing up? Its 3am, don’t you have work in the morning?”

“Well, I would be sleep, If your game wasn’t blaring through the walls keeping me awake all night”

“Oh, I didn’t know you could hear it, it doesn’t seem that loud to me”

“WELL, IT IS”

“Okay, I’ll turn it down, geez”

“And while you’re at it, go to bed, you’ve been awake for three days now”

“I can’t sleep”

Roommate Gojo who sometimes…crosses the line. Not in the way you might think. He’s never really done anything inappropriate to you, so you can't complain about that. But he’s just friendlier than a roommate probably should be.

“Cmon, its not a big deal”

“Gojo, you’re my friend, but even then, cuddling you to sleep? Doesn’t there seem like there should be a line somewhere?”

“You did it last week?”

“By accident! We fell asleep on the couch; it’s not that deep”

“Y/n please. That’s the best sleep I’ve had in literal YEARS”

“Gojo-”

“PLEASEEEE”

“Okay FINE, but we’re going to bed when I say so”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”

Roommate Gojo who is a relationship saboteur. He swears every guy you meet isn’t good enough for you, or up to his ridiculous standards. He pesters and breaks you down, until you agree to let him meet the guy, and from that point forward, it’s a downhill battle.

“Gojo, what is wrong with you”

“What? If anything, you should be thanking me”

“THANKING YOU? That’s the third date you’ve RUINED this month alone”

“That guy was a piece of crap; he didn’t even compliment you when he walked in the door”

“Maybe because from the second he stepped foot on the porch you were barreling down his throat, you didn’t even give him a chance to speak!” “Well, if it was me, I wouldn’t have let a single thing stop me from complimenting my women”

“Well, it’s not you”

“But it could be”

“Gojo get out of my face”

Roommate Gojo who’s all bark and no bite. He swears up and down that he was women practically falling at his feet, yet you’ve never seen him go on a single date.

Roommate Gojo who now that you’ve think about it, hasn’t even talked to a single woman since he’s moved in.

“Gojo?”

“What’s up pretty”

“Are you gay?”

“Idk”

“So that’s not a no?”

“Well, it’s not a yes either”

“So, the windows open?”

“Probably not”

“But you said “idk””

“Because I can’t be sure”

“Why not”

“Because I’ve never been with, dated or even kissed a guy before”

“Well, I seriously doubt you’ve “been” with any women either, so how can you even be sure that you like them?”

“Because I like you”

“And now we’re done.”

“Goodnight pretty”

“Goodnight Gojo”

Roommate Gojo who’s defiantly not gay because he just confessed his feelings for you.

“What”

“I said I really like you”

“I really like you too Gojo? You say that all the time though, why are you being so serious about it now”

“No. I LIKE you, like Mikasa likes Eren. Btw are you all caught up on that or??”

“Yeah, and by gods I hope that kind of love never finds me”

“What? They were so great together”

“I mean yeah ideally but literally? No way. They spent their entire lives pinning for each-other, and dancing around the subject, so much so that she literally was forced to mourn him for the rest of her life AFTER having to chop is freaking head off”

“I mean yeah, but like, they still loved each other though”

“Obviously, but when you really think about it-”

“Okay, we’re getting off topic, I said, I REALLY like you”

“Well, I mean, I like you too but what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Date me”

“Are you gonna ask?”

“Will you let me be your boyfriend?”

“Mmm we’ll see”

“OH CMON.”

border by @grungenglam

comment to be added to tag list!

[zylokv]

OVER MY DEAD BODY, JENNIE. — myoui mina

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

synopsis — till death do you part, right? why does it feel like you're the only one that fulfilled that vow.

word count ! — 21k

— myoui mina x reader !

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

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

series masterlist !

LAST PART!

the hospital room was quiet, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors the only sound. your head throbbed faintly as you sat up in the bed, trying to make sense of the fragmented memories and emotions swirling inside you. jennie sat by your side, her presence a constant since you'd woken up, her eyes soft with concern as she fed you small spoonfuls of porridge.

"you’ve been through so much," she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "but you’re safe now. i’m here."

you swallowed the porridge, the warmth doing little to settle the growing unease in your chest. "jennie," you started, your voice hoarse, "why do i feel like... like i should know something important? like there’s someone—"

"someone who doesn’t matter anymore," she cut in, her voice firm but gentle. "someone who hurt you."

your brow furrowed. "what?"

jennie hesitated, her expression darkening as she set the bowl down. "myoui mina," she finally said, her tone laced with disdain. "she tried to break into this very room a few days ago. she was desperate to see you."

"she—what?" you blinked, confusion knitting your features. "why? what does she want?"

"she wanted to be here when you wake up, probably to manipulate you," jennie said, her jaw tightening. "just like she always has. but don’t worry. she’s not going to hurt you anymore. she’s... she’s already in jail where she belongs now."

the words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. "jail?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

jennie nodded, leaning closer. "she’s under investigation for a lot of things, but mainly for bambam’s disappearance. remember him?"

you didn’t. but the name sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

"he was the one she cheated on you with," jennie continued, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, as though sharing a secret too dangerous to speak aloud. "and then, one day, he just... vanished. no trace, nothing."

your hands clenched the blanket, a dull ache settling in your chest. "if she’s such a monster, why was i ever with her?"

"because you were lonely," jennie said softly, her gaze locking onto yours. "you wanted to feel needed. and she saw that. she used it against you, used you to clean up her messes, to protect her reputation. she didn’t love you. she loved what you could do for her."

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you let out a bitter laugh. "i must’ve been pathetic," you muttered, shaking your head. "a lonely, naive fool who let someone like her walk all over me."

jennie’s hand covered yours, her grip warm and steady. "don’t say that," she said, her voice tinged with something darker, possessive. "you were vulnerable, but you’re not anymore. you’re with me now, and i’ll protect you. i couldn’t do it back then, but now..." her fingers tightened, her eyes gleaming with a fervent intensity. "now you’re in my grasp. and i won’t let anything or anyone hurt you again."

a shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn’t tell if it was from her words or the way she said them. "jennie..." you began, but your voice faltered, unsure of what to say.

"shh," she murmured, lifting the spoon again and holding it to your lips. "just focus on getting better. let me take care of everything."

you nodded numbly, opening your mouth to accept the food. as the warmth of the porridge spread through you, you tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, the sense that something wasn’t adding up.

but with no memories to hold onto and jennie’s unwavering gaze fixed on you, it was easier to simply let her words fill the empty spaces in your mind.

for now, you let yourself believe her. -----

the atmosphere inside the prison visitation room was heavy with tension. mina sat across from mr. han, her lawyer, whose sharp eyes never left the documents laid out in front of him. his glasses gleamed in the soft overhead light as he calmly sifted through the evidence. mina, on the other hand, could barely sit still, her fingers anxiously tapping against the table.

“miss mina,” mr. han began, his tone clipped and precise, “it’s come to my attention that the authorities are presenting a case that’s entirely dependent on circumstantial evidence. the blood, the hair, the accusations—they don’t have much beyond that.”

“but... they found my hair in bambam’s car,” mina whispered, her voice shaking as she glanced down at the picture of the abandoned car.

mr. han raised an eyebrow. “yes. your hair. in a vehicle that was found under a bridge, with no sign of bambam. the only thing they’ve connected you to is that small piece of evidence. but,” he added, adjusting his glasses with a cool, deliberate motion, “we’re going to dismantle this case piece by piece.”

“how?” mina asked, her voice almost desperate. “how do we explain that?”

mr. han’s gaze was unwavering as he shifted the papers, placing a new set of images on the table. “this is where we start. first, we know you met bambam that night. you admitted that.”

mina nodded. “yes, I did. bambam and I agreed to meet in his car. I had something important to tell him. but when I got there... he was acting strange. I don’t know what happened, but I left him in the car... perfectly fine.”

“perfectly fine,” mr. han repeated, his voice smooth and calculating. “and when you left, he was in no danger? you saw him leave the car? there were no signs of injury?”

“no,” mina replied quickly. “he was fine. I left him there, just like that.”

“good,” mr. han said, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “now we focus on the real issue—the knife, and the woman seen on the cctv footage.”

mina’s heart skipped a beat. she hadn’t forgotten about the knife, the one that had been found near bambam’s car. it wasn’t hers, but it had been taken from her apartment.

"the knife," mina started, her tone measured. "it’s mine. i recognized it the moment they showed it to me. but i didn’t use it."

mr. han interjected smoothly. "let’s break this down. you’re confirming the knife belongs to you, correct?"

"yes," mina admitted. "but it went missing. i thought i’d misplaced it before i left for the myoui estate in japan."

he slid a photo across the table. mina’s gaze dropped to the image—a woman leaving her house in a red coat. her stomach twisted. “that’s the night of the murder,” she said softly, her voice tight. “but that’s not my coat.”

mr. han adjusted his glasses, looking at her as if she were missing the most obvious thing in the world. “exactly. it’s a woman who looks just like you, but she’s wearing the wrong coat. and guess what? we’ve got camera footage that proves it. you were already gone by the time the murder happened, but the cops don’t know that yet. they’re too busy chasing their own tails.”

“but why? why would someone do that?” mina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

mr. han paused, then slid another set of photos across the table. “these are dashcam footage from nearby cars, showing the same woman entering bambam’s vehicle after leaving your penthouse. and here”—he tapped a photo—“this is a picture of the woman burning her clothes afterward. trying to cover up her involvement.”

mina’s breath caught in her throat. “that’s... that’s insane.”

“it’s a calculated move,” mr. han replied, his tone hardening. “and whoever hired this woman is trying to frame you for bambam’s disappearance. we’re going to find out who it is, and once we do, we’ll break this case wide open.”

mina sat back in her chair, her mind racing. “but there’s more, isn’t there?”

“yes,” mr. han said, leaning forward with a sudden sharpness in his voice. “this next part... this is what’s going to change everything. we’ve managed to hack into the phone of the woman who was involved. we know she sent images of the knife, the bloodstains, and a series of cryptic messages. messages that suggest she’s working for someone.”

“and you got all of this legally?” mina asked, still trying to grasp the magnitude of the situation.

mr. han smirked slightly. “the link we sent her was benign enough that she clicked it without suspicion. and now, we’ve got full access to her phone. the information is damning, and it’s going to help us tie this woman to the scene.”

“but what if they trace it back to us?” mina asked, her voice barely a murmur.

“we’ll play it smart,” mr. han reassured her, his voice calm and unwavering. “we’ll claim the evidence came from an anonymous source. there’s no way they can trace it back to us. and once it’s in the system, it’s fair game. they won’t have a leg to stand on.”

mina’s heart sank, but there was a small spark of hope flickering in her chest. “do you think this will be enough?”

“it has to be,” mr. han said, his tone firm. “once we show that the woman took the knife from your penthouse, once we connect her to the scene, and once we prove she was hired... they’ll have no choice but to drop the charges. you will be free.”

just then, the prison guard signaled that visiting hours were coming to a close. mina stood up, her mind racing but her resolve hardening. “thank you, mr. han,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “for believing in me.”

“you don’t need to thank me,” mr. han said with a cool smile. “I’m just doing my job. now let’s get to work. the trial starts soon.” -----

FLASHBACK

the car was parked under the shadow of an overpass, the air heavy with tension. mina sat in the passenger seat, her posture poised and unyielding, the dim glow of the dashboard casting faint shadows across her sharp features.

bambam tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, the faint rhythm echoing in the silence. “so, what’s this about, mina?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with impatience.

she turned to face him, her gaze icy and calculating. “it’s about them,” she said, her tone even but laced with steel.

his brows furrowed in confusion before a smirk crept onto his face. “oh? what about your precious lawyer?”

mina’s eyes narrowed, her expression unflinching. “stay away from them, bambam. whatever you’re trying to do, it ends now.”

bambam leaned back in his seat, letting out a low chuckle. “is that so? and what makes you think you can tell me what to do?”

“because I can,” mina replied coolly. “and because I will. i’m not here to play games with you, bambam. this is your final warning.”

his smirk faltered for a moment before he scoffed, shaking his head. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?”

mina’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “it’s power. power that could make your life very difficult if you keep pushing me.”

bambam broke the silence first, his tone sharp. “you’re not going to win them back, you know.”

mina’s eyes flicked to him, dark and unyielding. “that’s none of your concern.”

“none of my concern?” bambam scoffed, leaning back in his seat with a bitter laugh. “do you really think they’ll forgive you, mina? after what you did?”

mina’s gaze remained steady, her voice calm but cutting. “they already know. i made a mistake—one i’ll regret for the rest of my life. but forgiveness? that’s for them to decide. not you.”

“you think saying that makes it all better?” bambam challenged, his words dripping with derision. “what do you even have to offer them after breaking their trust?”

mina’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “everything,” she said simply. “i’ll give them everything—my time, my love, my name, my empire, if that’s what it takes.”

“and what if it’s not enough?” bambam pressed, his voice rising slightly. “what if they walk away, mina? then what?”

mina leaned forward, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “then i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure they know what they mean to me. and if they still choose to leave—” she paused, her expression softening ever so slightly, “—then i’ll let them go. because that’s what love is.”

bambam’s laugh was sharp, almost cruel. “love? don’t make me laugh. you’re all talk, mina. you think you’re so noble, but let’s not forget—i was there first. i’ve known you since we were kids. how could you pick someone like them? a nobody, a lawyer.”

mina’s smile didn’t waver, but the air around her seemed to grow colder. “careful, bambam,” she said softly, her tone razor-sharp. “you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

he opened his mouth to retort, but mina cut him off, her voice growing firmer. “you think i chose them because they’re a ‘nobody’? no. i chose them because they’re everything you’ll never be. they’re kind. selfless. loyal. something you wouldn’t understand.”

bambam’s jaw tightened, but mina pressed on, her words precise and unforgiving. “and let me make one thing clear: whatever you think you had with me? it’s over. it was a mistake—a lapse in judgment i will never repeat.”

“you sound so sure of yourself,” bambam muttered, his bravado faltering. “but do you really think they’ll look at you the same way?”

mina’s expression softened, though her eyes remained steely. “i don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “but i’ll fight for them, bambam. every single day. because they’re worth it.”

she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “and you? you’re nothing but a reminder of a mistake i’ve already left behind. so here’s my advice: stay away. from them. from me. from us.”

bambam’s smirk returned, though it was weaker this time. “and what if i don’t back off? what are you going to do, mina? ruin me?”

“if i have to,” she replied without hesitation, her voice steady and devoid of emotion. “do you really want to test me, bambam? do you want to see how quickly i can pull the rug out from under you? your family’s success depends on the myoui shares. one call from me, and it all comes crashing down.”

his smirk vanished completely, replaced by a flicker of unease.

“you’re serious,” he muttered, almost to himself.

mina leaned in slightly, her gaze piercing. “deadly. serious. so listen carefully, bambam. stay away from them. stay out of their life. because if you don’t, i will make sure you regret it.”

bambam was silent for a moment, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “you’re cold, mina. colder than i ever thought possible.”

she tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “and you’re predictable. but let me make one thing clear: i care about them more than anything. and i’ll do whatever it takes to protect them.”

he let out a bitter laugh, his frustration evident. “you’re going all in for someone like them? a nobody compared to us?”

mina’s gaze darkened, her voice dropping to a whisper. “they’re not a nobody. they’re everything. and if you think otherwise, you’ve already lost.”

she opened the car door and stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement as she turned to look at him one last time.

“don’t make me repeat myself,” she said, her tone final. “this is the last time we’ll ever speak.”

without waiting for a response, she walked away, her figure disappearing into the night. LATER THAT NIGHT mina's pov

i watched them from the doorway for a long moment, their figure slouched against the couch, eyes lost in the amber liquid in their glass. the room was too quiet, too still. it made something inside me stir—an urge to close the distance, to fill the silence with the sound of my voice.

finally, i stepped in, my footsteps soft on the hardwood. "you're good at avoiding things," i said, my tone low and deliberate.

“i’ve been working,” they replied, but i could tell they were listening. i pushed forward, my gaze fixed on them. "at this hour?" i asked, the edge in my voice unmistakable.

silence hung in the air as they shifted, but i didn’t wait for them to speak. i took another step closer.

"you look gorgeous," i added, my voice slipping into something softer. it was true. they always looked amazing—no matter the circumstances.

their eyes flickered to me briefly, but they quickly turned away, hiding behind the glass in their hand. a flash of frustration ran through me, but i tamped it down.

"don’t say things like that," they muttered, and i could hear the unspoken weight in their words.

i paused, eyes narrowing as i took in the situation. the tension was thick, palpable. they were avoiding me, but there was something else too—a fear, a reluctance. and it made my chest tighten.

“you’ve been drinking,” i observed, my gaze flicking to their glass. “and thinking. i can tell.”

their sigh was heavy, their shoulders slumping as they leaned back. “why are you doing this?” they asked, frustration lacing their voice. "why are you trying so hard now? do you think i’ve forgotten? sometimes i still see him. i still hear his voice.”

bambam.

the name scraped across my mind like a shard of glass, but i didn't flinch. i could feel the sharpness of his ghost still lingering between us, but that didn’t matter now.

i crouched down in front of them, close enough that i could feel their breath hitch. “he’s gone,” i said, my voice soft but sure.

they blinked, confused. “what do you mean?”

i let my lips curl into the faintest smile. “he won’t bother us anymore.”

“mina, what did you—”

“do you trust me?” i interrupted, my eyes locking onto theirs with an intensity that made their pulse quicken.

they hesitated, and i saw the doubt in their eyes. but i knew—i knew—that they would come around.

“i’ll make this simple,” i continued, my voice low, almost a whisper now. i leaned closer, one hand brushing against their thigh, making sure they knew i was real, that i was here. "you’re mine. and i’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."

their breath caught in their throat, but they didn’t speak.

"if i fail again, everything i have—my wealth, my power, my name—it’s yours,” i added, my voice thick with the weight of the promise. “but let me make one thing clear.”

my hand traced a slow, deliberate line up their jaw, forcing them to meet my eyes. “if you ever think about betraying me, if you ever look at someone else—”

i paused, the smile on my lips widening just slightly. "you’ll regret it."

“mina—”

“shh,” i whispered, cutting them off with a finger against their lips. “you think i’d let that happen? with this kind of face, you have time to look at someone else?”

my laugh was soft, but it carried a dark edge. “i’ll make sure you never even think about it,” i said, the words slipping from my mouth like a sweet, dangerous promise.

i climbed onto their lap with practiced grace, my robe slipping slightly, the fabric brushing against their skin. i could feel their heart pounding beneath me, their body stiff with tension.

“do you know why, darling?” i asked softly, my hands cupping their face, tilting it slightly to meet my gaze.

they swallowed hard, their eyes flickering with a mix of confusion and desire.

“because you’re mine,” i whispered, my lips grazing their ear, my voice barely audible but full of conviction. “every part of you—your heart, your body, your soul—it belongs to me. till death do us part.”

my fingers tightened slightly, just enough to make them feel the pressure, feel my ownership. "you’ll stay by my side, and i’ll make sure you never want to leave."

the tension in the air was unbearable now, and when our lips finally met, it was everything: a promise, a threat, a declaration. my kiss was as fierce as it was tender, leaving them breathless and completely consumed.

i could feel them respond, their body finally giving in to the pull of mine. the world outside didn’t matter anymore—only the space between us, the heat, the quiet desperation in their touch.

and as the kiss deepened, the way my hands moved slowly, deliberately over them, it became clear: this wasn’t just a kiss. it was a claim.

bambam was nothing now—just a fleeting, foolish mistake. one i had already erased from existence.

and now? they were mine—completely.

-----

jennie escorted you out of the hospital. her hand remained steady on your back as you stepped into the cold, crisp air. waiting near the exit were familiar faces and two people you vaguely recognized as mina's parents. their expressions ranged from worry to relief when they spotted you.

sana stepped forward first. "thank god. you're alright." her eyes shifted to jennie, narrowing. "but what is she doing here?"

jennie tightened her grip on your arm, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes fixed firmly on her lips. "they need rest. i’m here to make sure they get it."

you hesitated, looking between the two groups. sana’s gaze was pleading, momo’s filled with concern. "don’t believe anything jennie says," sana blurted out. "she’s—"

"enough," jennie interrupted smoothly. "they don’t need this stress."

sana tried to push forward, but two men in suits—jennie’s bodyguards—stepped in, blocking her path. momo glanced at you, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t place—guilt? regret?

"let’s go," jennie said gently, tugging you toward the waiting car. you followed, your mind spinning as the door closed behind you. through the tinted windows, you caught one last glimpse of sana, her mouth moving as if shouting something you couldn’t hear.

back at the apartment jennie had set up for you, everything was too perfect, too curated. the walls were adorned with pictures of you and jennie—smiling, happy, a life you couldn’t recall.

you wandered aimlessly until you found yourself in what appeared to be your private office. the space felt more like yours—papers strewn across the desk, case files stacked neatly on the shelves.

sitting in the chair, you ran your fingers across the polished wood of the desk. drawers beckoned, and your curiosity got the better of you. as you rifled through them, a small device caught your attention—an mp3 player. etched on the back were the initials M.M.

your breath hitched. why did that feel significant?

plugging in a pair of headphones, you scrolled through the playlist. songs filled your ears, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. you found yourself nodding along, murmuring, "good taste."

leaning back, you closed your eyes, letting the music envelop you. but as the final chords of a song faded, a thought struck you like lightning.

"if mina really was my enemy," you muttered, "then maybe it’s time i learn more about her."

setting the mp3 player aside, you leaned forward, determination replacing hesitation. visiting hours at the prison weren’t far off, and if you were going to piece together the truth, you needed to start there.

-----

the hum of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as you stepped into your office building for the first time since the accident. park jihyo, your ever-efficient assistant, was already waiting near the entrance. her expression shifted quickly between relief and hesitation as she approached, clipboard clutched tightly to her chest.

“you’re back,” she said, offering a tentative smile. “it’s good to see you.”

you nodded, glancing around the space that felt both familiar and foreign. “so this is where i work?” the words came out more like a statement than a question, but doubt lingered in your tone.

jihyo’s smile softened, though concern flickered in her eyes. “yes. this is your office. you’ve spent so much time here... you’ve built a reputation as one of the best lawyers in the city.”

“what kind of lawyer am i?” you asked, half-joking but mostly serious. you gestured vaguely at the desk, the files stacked neatly on it, the accolades framed on the walls. “was i any good?”

jihyo hesitated, her gaze dropping to the clipboard. “you were brilliant. fearless. but... i can’t tell you much more.”

“can’t, or won’t?” you pressed, your tone sharper than intended.

“it’s... complicated.” jihyo admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

frustration bubbled beneath your skin, but you didn’t push further. instead, you spent the rest of the day acclimating yourself to the environment—pouring over files, trying to piece together fragments of your professional life. jihyo’s praises lingered in your mind, but they felt hollow, like echoes in a vast, empty room.

as evening fell, you left the office, the chill of the winter air biting at your cheeks. the drive to the prison was quiet, the hum of the heater in your car the only sound. your thoughts churned, a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

“how could i have fallen for a criminal?” you muttered under your breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. the irony wasn’t lost on you—one of the city’s best lawyers, tangled in the web of someone suspected of a heinous crime.

snow began to fall as you arrived at the prison. the waiting area was cold and unwelcoming, the walls a dull, institutional gray. your breath misted in the air as you sat, your gaze fixed on the window where snowflakes danced against the pane.

and then, she entered.

myoui mina. even in the drab uniform of a prisoner, she carried herself with an elegance that was almost otherworldly. her hair was tied back, her face pale but composed. your heart stuttered—recognition flickered like a match, only to be snuffed out by the fog of your fractured memories.

she walked toward you, her steps quickening as she saw you. the chair scraped against the floor as she sat across from you, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them together on the table.

“how are you?” mina asked, her voice soft, tentative. “did the surgery go well?”

you leaned back, your arms crossed. “why do you care?” your tone was cold, accusatory. “didn’t you cheat on me?”

mina flinched, the words hitting her like a physical blow. “i heard jennie was with you,” she said carefully, her voice wavering. “i... i promised to be there for you, but—” her composure cracked, and she looked down, her hands clenching into fists. “i got caught up in this mess.”

“so you’re admitting it?” you shot back, your voice rising. “you weren’t there because you were too busy being a criminal?”

“it’s not like that!” mina’s voice broke, her tears spilling over. “i was at the hospital, but then... then jennie came with all this police and i was arrested. i didn’t want this. i never wanted this.”

your mind swirled with confusion, her words sinking into the cracks of your doubt. "i know everything," you said abruptly, your voice low and steady, testing the waters.

mina's gaze sharpened, and a hint of her old defiance surfaced. "if you know everything," she retorted quickly, leaning forward slightly, "then why are you here? are you still doubtful?"

her words struck a nerve, and for a moment, you were caught off guard. "don't believe jennie," mina continued, her tone gentler now, almost pleading. "she's not who she says she is. i know i made mistakes, but i need you to trust me on this."

before you could respond, the guards approached, signaling the end of the visit. mina stood, her gaze locking onto yours, desperate and pleading.

“take care of yourself,” she said, her voice barely audible as the guards led her away. “please... just take care of yourself.”

as you left the prison, the cold air hit you like a slap, your thoughts a tangled mess. you stopped at a convenience store, grabbing medicine for your pounding headache. the clerk gave you a sympathetic look as you fumbled with the cash, muttering under your breath about how your head felt like it was splitting in two.

back at your apartment, darkness enveloped the space. you flicked on the lights, only to find kim jennie sitting on your couch, her posture tense, arms crossed, and expression stormy.

“where have you been?” she demanded, her voice sharp and tinged with something almost desperate.

you froze, your hand still on the light switch, blinking at her in confusion. “jennie? how did you get in here?”

her expression softened, a hint of vulnerability slipping through as she stood. “your spare key,” she murmured, holding it up briefly before setting it on the table. “i was worried. you weren’t answering my calls. i thought something might’ve happened.”

“worried?” you echoed, your voice unsure, the events of the day leaving you too drained to challenge her. “the one person who was causing me harm is in jail now, right?”

jennie’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped closer, her gaze steady on yours. “come on,” she said carefully, her voice dropping to a hushed tone. “you don’t remember everything yet, but you know how dangerous she is. i can't just sit by and do nothing.”

her words sent a flicker of unease through you, but it was hard to push back against the conviction in her tone. the gaps in your memory felt like a chasm, and jennie seemed to be the only one offering answers.

“i... i guess that makes sense,” you said slowly, your brows furrowing. “but still, jennie, coming in uninvited like this—i don't— i don't like anyone entering my apartment just like that..”

“i’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “i know it’s a lot, but you have to trust me. everything i’ve done is to protect you. you’re all i care about.”

your resolve wavered, her words settling heavily in your chest. “you keep saying that, but... it feels like too much sometimes.”

she stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours. “you’re scared. i get it. but you don’t have to go through this alone. i’m here for you. always.”

her touch, her tone—everything about her presence felt suffocating as if your body is rejecting her touch. you exhaled, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly despite the lingering doubt in your mind. “okay,” you murmured. “thank you, jennie.”

her smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “good,” she said softly. “just promise me you’ll be careful. mina’s not who you think she is. remember that.”

you nodded, the weight of her words pressing down on you even as they left questions you couldn’t articulate. “i’ll try.”

she lingered for a moment, her gaze searching yours before finally stepping back. “i’ll go now,” she said, her voice gentle. “get some rest. and please... call me if you need anything.”

as the door clicked shut behind her, you stood there for a long moment, your thoughts a tangled mess of uncertainty and trust.

outside, jennie walked briskly to her car, her composed facade slipping away. frustration simmered beneath the surface as she pulled a small device from her pocket.

“you don’t see it yet,” she muttered, crouching beside your car to attach the tracker underneath. “but you’ll understand someday. i’m the only one keeping you safe.”

she straightened, brushing off her hands before slipping into her car. as she drove off, her jaw clenched, her thoughts racing. “you’ll thank me one day,” she whispered, her voice steely with determination. “i’ll make sure of it.” -----

the courtroom buzzed with tension as the trial commenced. spectators whispered in hushed tones, stealing glances at the defendant’s table where mina sat, her expression calm yet cold, betraying nothing. mr. han, her lawyer, stood confidently, a stack of meticulously prepared documents in front of him.

“your honor,” mr. han began, addressing the judge, “we have new evidence that will undoubtedly prove my client’s innocence.”

the prosecution raised an eyebrow, their lips curling into a skeptical smirk. “circumstantial evidence is hardly new, counselor. unless you have something more substantial, let’s not waste the court’s time.”

“on the contrary,” mr. han said smoothly, “the evidence i’m about to present is both new and compelling. security footage retrieved from the defendant’s penthouse reveals critical details about the night in question.”

the courtroom fell silent as a monitor was wheeled into view. mr. han nodded toward an assistant, who queued up the footage.

“this is from the surveillance camera outside ms. myoui’s residence,” mr. han explained. “pay close attention to the timestamps.”

the footage began playing, showing mina leaving her penthouse dressed in a sleek black coat, her movements poised and deliberate. the timestamp marked her departure at 8:15 p.m.

“now,” mr. han continued, gesturing toward the screen, “this next segment is from 8:32 p.m.”

the video cut to a different angle, this time showing a woman entering mina’s penthouse. she was clad in a striking red coat, her face obscured by a scarf and hat.

“notice the distinct red coat,” mr. han pointed out. “this individual is not my client. yet, at 8:45 p.m., she exits the penthouse holding the alleged murder weapon—the same knife identified as belonging to ms. myoui.”

gasps rippled through the room as the footage showed the woman leaving with the knife, her gloved hand clutching it tightly.

“your honor, this footage demonstrates that while the fingerprints on the knife may belong to my client, she wasn’t even present when it was taken from her residence,” mr. han concluded.

the prosecution stood, their expression unyielding. “this is circumstantial at best. a video of someone entering and exiting proves nothing without concrete evidence linking this individual to the crime. for all we know, this could be staged.”

mr. han didn’t flinch. “your honor, if the prosecution doubts the credibility of this footage, perhaps they’ll find the next piece of evidence more convincing.”

the courtroom tensed further.

“we have received additional evidence—photos and videos taken by the perpetrator themselves. these were submitted anonymously but corroborate the timeline and details of the incident.”

the prosecutor’s expression darkened. “objection! this evidence wasn’t disclosed during discovery. the defense is attempting to blindside us.”

mr. han’s composure wavered, frustration flashing in his eyes. “your honor, this is critical. withholding this evidence would be a miscarriage of justice. it directly impacts my client’s case and could determine her innocence.”

the judge leaned forward, their gaze piercing as they addressed the room. “you’ve been asking for substantial evidence, and now it’s presented before you. the court will accept it.”

the tension in the room broke as murmurs spread like wildfire. at the back of the room, an anonymous figure in a sharp blazer shifted in their seat—kim jennie. her jaw clenched, her annoyance barely concealed as she slipped out of the courtroom unnoticed.

the new evidence played, showing damning footage of the red-coated woman holding the knife and setting it down at the crime scene. her actions were deliberate, her face partially visible in some frames.

the judge deliberated briefly before delivering their verdict.

“after reviewing the evidence, it is clear that the defendant, myoui mina, is not guilty.”

relief flooded the room as mina’s parents embraced one another, tears streaming down their faces. sana and momo exchanged stunned glances before breaking into tentative smiles.

mina, though composed, allowed herself a small exhale of relief.

later, outside the courthouse, mina’s family and friends surrounded her. the air was thick with emotions—tears, laughter, and heartfelt embraces.

“you did it, mina,” momo said, her voice breaking slightly. “you’re finally free.”

“we never doubted you,” sana added, her bright smile tinged with emotion.

mina looked at them, her usually guarded demeanor softening. “thank you. all of you. i couldn’t have done this alone.”

mr. han approached, his expression a mix of pride and exhaustion. “it’s not over yet. we’ll need to investigate further to ensure the true culprit is brought to justice. but for now, enjoy this victory.”

mina nodded, her gaze turning toward the horizon. despite her freedom, a storm still brewed within her. there were questions unanswered, shadows lingering in the corners of her mind. -----

your office was unusually quiet that afternoon, the kind of stillness that made the ticking clock on the wall seem deafening. work was supposed to keep your mind occupied, but instead, it only made the unease growing in your chest feel sharper.

your phone buzzed, the vibration cutting through the silence. absentmindedly, you picked it up, intending to swipe the notification away, but your eyes caught the headline: “myoui mina acquitted—court declares her not guilty.”

the name felt... strange. familiar yet distant. it lingered in your mind like a faint melody you couldn’t place.

you stared at the screen, furrowing your brows. why did it feel like this mattered?

“jihyo,” you called out, your voice firmer than you expected.

your assistant poked their head into the doorway, their usual cheerful expression replaced by a cautious one. “yes?”

you grabbed your coat, your movements abrupt and hurried. “i need you to drive me somewhere.”

jihyo blinked in confusion. “uh, where exactly are we going?”

you hesitated for a moment, realizing you didn’t have a clear answer. “just—” you waved your hand vaguely. “just drive. i’ll figure it out.”

jihyo hesitated but grabbed their keys and followed you out of the office. the elevator ride down was quiet, your thoughts too tangled to make sense of.

once inside the car, you tapped your fingers restlessly on the armrest, staring out the window as the city streets blurred by.

“you okay?” jihyo finally asked, stealing a quick glance at you.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, surprising even yourself with the honesty. “just... something doesn’t feel right.”

jihyo frowned but didn’t press further. they focused on the road while you sank deeper into your thoughts. the name from the article kept replaying in your head, like an unsolved riddle begging for an answer.

you didn’t know where this drive would take you. all you knew was that you needed to move. -----

the car idled quietly outside the prison gates, jihyo tapping the steering wheel rhythmically. you sat in the passenger seat, furiously scribbling in a small notebook balanced precariously on your knee.

jihyo’s patience was running thin. “you know, when i said i’d help you, i didn’t sign up for prison stakeouts. care to explain why we’re here?”

without looking up, you muttered, “my ex-wife, who also happened to be my stalker, just got released. i need to know what she’s up to.”

jihyo stared at you, incredulous. “do you... hear yourself right now? we’re sitting outside a prison, watching your ex walk out, and you’re writing notes. i feel like you’re the stalker in this situation.”

your head snapped up, eyes wide with indignation. “what was that?!”

jihyo bit her lip, barely containing her amusement. “you heard me.”

you opened your mouth to argue but were interrupted by jihyo pointing toward the gates. “oh, by the way, there she is. have fun.”

your head whipped around, all your irritation dissolving as your gaze locked onto mina. she stepped out with a composed air, her parents flanking her. her mother immediately pulled her into a tight hug, while her father rested a hand on her shoulder, saying something you couldn’t quite make out.

your pen moved instinctively: family-oriented.

jihyo leaned over, peering at your notebook. “are you seriously taking notes on her like she’s a science experiment?”

“it’s for... context,” you said vaguely, eyes glued to the scene outside.

“context for what?” jihyo demanded, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

you ignored them as your focus shifted to momo, who was bounding over with a small container in hand. she thrust it toward mina, her grin unmistakable even from this distance.

“just try it! it’s good for you!” momo chirped.

mina recoiled slightly, her nose scrunching up. she took the container hesitantly, sniffed its contents, and immediately handed it back, shaking her head with an expression that screamed absolutely not.

doesn’t like natto, you wrote down.

jihyo groaned, burying her face in her hands. “this is painful to watch. you’re like a teenager with a crush, but worse. at least teenagers are subtle.”

“what was that?” you asked distractedly, not bothering to look up.

“nothing. keep doing your weird... note thing.”

just then, sana appeared, holding hiro by the hand. her bright demeanor seemed to light up the area as she guided the boy toward mina. after a few quiet words, she lifted him into mina’s arms.

your brow furrowed, and you leaned closer to the window. “isn’t that girl too young to be a mom?”

jihyo stiffened, her expression suddenly awkward. “uh... well...”

you gave her a sideways glance, but her avoidance didn’t register as your focus returned to mina. she was holding hiro gently, her expression uncharacteristically soft as she spoke to him. her parents stood nearby, beaming proudly, while momo and sana exchanged quiet laughter.

you couldn’t help but feel something stir in your chest—an unfamiliar mix of confusion, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

as the group began making their way to a waiting car, mina’s gaze wandered. her eyes landed on your car, her expression unreadable.

panic hit you like a freight train. you ducked so quickly that your knee hit the dashboard, eliciting a sharp yelp.

jihyo turned to you, her jaw slack. “what the hell are you doing?”

“shh!” you hissed, clutching your notebook to your chest. “she almost saw me!”

jihyo blinked slowly, her confusion palpable. “okay, so... just to be clear, you’re stalking your ex-wife to make sure she’s not stalking you?”

you glared at them, heat rushing to your face. “i’m not stalking her! i’m just... observing.”

“yeah, that totally makes it better,” jihyo said dryly, leaning back in her seat. “you know what? have fun with this. i’ll just be here, pretending i don’t know you.”

you shot them a glare but said nothing as your attention flicked back to mina’s car pulling away. once the coast was clear, you slowly sat up, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

jihyo shook her head, muttering, “definitely not giving stalker vibes at all.”

you jabbed a finger in their direction. “i’ll deal with you later.”

jihyo smirked, rolling her eyes, tapping the steering wheel. “can’t wait.” -----

the café buzzed with quiet chatter and the hum of brewing coffee. you sat in a secluded corner booth, notebook open, pen in hand, eyes glued to the table where mina, sana, and momo were seated with hiro. they were laughing, the sound muffled by the distance, but the sight was enough to stir something odd in your chest—annoyance? curiosity? who could tell?

you scribbled in your notebook: two women—who are they? friends? accomplices? one is overly enthusiastic, other is quieter but equally engaged.

jihyo, seated across from you, sipped her coffee and squinted at your furious note-taking. “you look like you’re preparing for a criminal trial.”

“i’m gathering evidence,” you replied without looking up.

jihyo snorted. “evidence of what? that she’s having lunch with friends?”

before you could respond, your attention snapped back to mina. she picked up a piece of orange chicken with her chopsticks, her expression brightening as she chewed.

“likes orange chicken but doesn’t like natto,” you muttered, jotting it down. “what is she, a kid?”

jihyo burst out laughing, nearly spilling her coffee. “oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

you glared at her. “what’s ridiculous is you treating this like a joke. this is serious.”

“serious stalking, maybe,” jihyo teased, leaning back in her chair. “you remind me of my younger self. you know, when i’d do dumb stuff for my crush.”

“i don’t have a crush,” you said defensively, snapping your notebook shut.

jihyo smirked. “sure you don’t. that’s why you’ve been obsessively documenting her every move.”

you opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself, focusing instead on the scene across the room. mina laughed at something momo said, her hand lightly brushing hiro’s hair. sana beamed, clearly enjoying the moment, her animated gestures adding life to their table.

“who even are those women? i saw them before, when i left the hospital with jennie” you asked, more to yourself than jihyo.

jihyo leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “friends. maybe family. maybe... rivals?”

you shot her a look. “are you trying to be helpful or make fun of me?”

jihyo shrugged. “depends. but listen, boss, if you really want my advice—”

“i’m not your boss right now” you interrupted.

she smiled slyly. “oh come on, and let me tell you, you weren’t as uptight back then. if you want to figure out what’s going on with her, stop overthinking and just... go with what feels right. not what other people are telling you.”

you frowned. “are you saying i should ignore the fact that she might be dangerous?”

jihyo hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “i’m saying you shouldn’t let someone else’s opinions—past or present—make decisions for you. your gut knows more than you think it does.”

you leaned back in your seat, chewing over her words as mina’s table erupted in laughter again. your pen hovered over the notebook, indecisive for the first time all day.

jihyo watched you, her expression softening. “just... don’t forget to breathe, okay? and maybe stop staring so hard. you’re gonna scare them off.”

“you’re terrible at this,” you muttered, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips.

jihyo grinned. “you’re welcome.” -----

your office was quiet, the hum of the city muffled by the thick glass windows. you were hunched over your desk, scribbling aimlessly on a piece of paper, trying to focus, when the door opened.

your head snapped up. standing there, as though he belonged, was your father.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “i thought it was time we talked.”

you leaned back in your chair, studying him with guarded eyes. “talk about what? about how you suddenly care now that i can’t even remember half my life?”

he flinched at your words, but his expression quickly settled into something calmer, almost pleading. “i care about you. i always have.”

“funny,” you said bitterly, standing and crossing your arms. “because that’s not what i’ve heard.”

“what are you talking about?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

you hesitated for a moment before your voice dropped, quieter but sharper. “remember when you took away my title as a lawyer to force me to marry mina?”

your father froze, his mouth opening slightly before he seemed to catch himself. “who told you that?”

“jennie,” you said simply, watching his face carefully.

“jennie…” he murmured, almost to himself. “she’s filling your head with lies—”

“don’t,” you interrupted, your tone icy. “she’s the only one who’s been honest with me. she’s been there when no one else was. not you, not mina. her.”

“you don’t remember everything,” he said, stepping closer, his voice trembling slightly. “you don’t know the full story. i—”

“and whose fault is that?” you snapped, cutting him off again. “you’re part of why i can’t piece my life together! you let this happen—you made this happen!”

his expression shifted, torn between anger and guilt. “i thought i was doing what was best for you.”

“best for me?” you repeated, your laugh bitter. “taking away my career? tying me to someone who clearly didn’t care about me? how is that ‘best for me’?”

he reached out, almost desperate now. “listen to me—”

you stepped back, your hands trembling as you clenched them into fists. “don’t touch me.”

the room fell into a suffocating silence, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of you.

“i’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice quiet but firm. “i didn’t know how else to—”

“save it,” you muttered, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. “you’ve done enough.”

without waiting for his response, you brushed past him and opened the door.

“i love you,” he called after you as you walked out.

you didn’t stop. the sound of the door closing behind you felt like the only closure you could give. -----

the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime as you stepped out, your gaze fixed on the notes you were scrolling through on your phone. it wasn’t until you looked up that you froze in your tracks. standing just a few feet away, waiting for the next elevator, was mina.

she was there in a crisp white blazer paired with tailored trousers, the kind of outfit that made her look effortlessly sophisticated. her hair fell neatly over her shoulders, tucked behind one ear to reveal pearl earrings. the mall’s lighting caught her just right, giving her an almost otherworldly air that made your breath catch.

your heart skipped a beat, and instinct took over before your mind could process. you stepped back into the elevator, jamming the close button with more force than necessary. the doors slid shut, leaving you staring at your slightly disheveled reflection in the mirrored walls.

what are you even doing?

you smoothed a hand over your clothes, tugging at your collar and brushing your hair back into place as if it would somehow prepare you. your palms felt clammy, and your heartbeat drummed in your ears.

“why am i acting like this?” you muttered under your breath, your tone frustrated. “she’s just mina. i shouldn’t be afraid of her.”

but the words felt empty, and deep down, you knew why. there was something about her presence that always made you feel like you were on uneven ground. still, the thought of running away didn’t sit right with you either.

mustering what little courage you had, you pressed the button to open the doors again. they slid apart, and you stepped out, only to find the hallway empty. she was gone.

confused, you glanced around before cautiously moving forward. as you turned a corner, you spotted her near one of the mall’s indoor fountains. her back was to you, but it was unmistakably her.

before you could decide whether to approach or leave, she turned. her eyes locked on yours immediately, like she had been expecting you.

“we need to talk,” mina said, her tone calm but resolute.

your breath hitched, and for a moment, you felt frozen, caught between unease and something you couldn’t quite name.

after a pause, you straightened your shoulders, trying to project confidence you didn’t fully feel. “fine,” you said, doing your best to sound composed. “let’s talk.”

you weren’t sure if you were convincing her—or yourself. -----

the private dining room at the top of the myoui skyscraper was a picture of opulence. floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a glittering city skyline, while the soft hum of classical music filled the air. a table set for two rested in the center, the glow of candlelight casting a warm hue over the elegant decor.

you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your fingers curling around the glass of water in front of you. the room felt too grand, too suffocating for a conversation you weren’t ready to have.

mina sat across from you, her appearance as immaculate as ever. her tailored black dress, paired with understated diamond earrings, only emphasized her composed demeanor. her posture was perfect, her hands folded delicately on the table, yet there was something in her gaze—soft but piercing—that made your chest tighten.

“thank you for agreeing to meet,” she began, her voice calm but measured.

“like i had much of a choice,” you muttered, glancing at the untouched plate before you.

she tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “you could’ve ignored me.”

“and let you keep hounding me? no thanks,” you retorted, your tone sharper than you intended.

a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “i suppose persistence runs in the family.”

you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “so? what is it you want this time, mina?”

she hesitated, her gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “i want you to work for me.”

you blinked, caught completely off guard. “excuse me?”

“i want you to join the myoui corporation as the head of our legal team,” she said evenly, her tone leaving no room for ambiguity.

a laugh escaped you, bitter and incredulous. “you’re joking.”

“i’m not,” she replied, her voice steady.

“you really think I’d leave my current job to work for you?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “what kind of game are you playing, mina?”

“this isn’t a game,” she said quietly, though her words carried weight. “i need someone i can trust in that position. and i want you."

“trust?” you repeated, the word sour in your mouth. “you don’t trust me, mina. you never did.”

her expression faltered for the first time, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her features. “that’s not true,” she said softly.

“it’s hard to believe anything you say,” you shot back, your grip tightening around the edge of the table. “especially when—” you hesitated, your breath catching as a memory surfaced, murky and incomplete.

mina’s gaze softened, and the vulnerability in her eyes was disarming. “go on,” she urged gently.

you shook your head, frustration bubbling over. “it doesn’t matter. what matters is that you cheated on me. you broke my trust, mina. why should i believe you now?”

she flinched, her composure wavering for a split second. “you’re right,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i did. and i’ve regretted it every day since. but that doesn’t mean i’ll stop trying to make things right.”

you laughed again, the sound hollow. “you’re fucking shameless, you know that? offering me a job while spouting apologies. do you really think i’m that desperate?”

“it’s not about desperation,” she said firmly. “it’s about giving you the place you deserve. a chance to stand beside me, not behind anyone else.”

her words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a response.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you blurted out, your voice tinged with unease. “are you trying to seduce me or something?”

mina’s lips parted in surprise before a soft, humorless laugh escaped her. “no,” she said, shaking her head. “but i didn’t think you’d forget me so easily. or believe someone else over me.”

your chest tightened, anger and confusion swirling in equal measure. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

she hesitated, then stood, her movements slow and deliberate. “it means that i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you remember who we were. to make you see me for who i really am—not the person someone else has painted me to be.”

you pushed your chair back, standing abruptly. “save your speeches, mina. i’m not the same person you once knew. i’m not that foolish, naive idiot anymore.”

“i know,” she said, her voice steady despite the sadness in her eyes. “but that doesn’t mean i’ll stop fighting for you.”

her words struck a nerve you couldn’t ignore, but you forced yourself to turn away, heading for the door.

as your hand gripped the handle, her voice stopped you. “don’t let someone else’s version of the truth define yours.”

you paused, her words cutting deeper than you cared to admit,.

“you said you're willing to do whatever it takes to make me remember,” you said without looking back. “maybe you should start by leaving me alone.”

and with that, you left, the weight of her words following you out into the night. -----

the car moved smoothly through the city streets, the hum of the engine a faint backdrop to your thoughts. you leaned back in the leather seat, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. it was supposed to be a quiet evening, nothing to complicate the uneasy calm you’d managed to maintain since that dinner with mina.

“take me back to my apartment,” you told the driver, your voice distracted as you tapped on your phone.

“yes.” the driver replied, the sound of the turn signal clicking as they merged into the appropriate lane.

just as you were about to close your phone, a notification popped up on the screen. your brow furrowed as you opened it—a qr code, sent from an unfamiliar number. beneath it was a name that caught your attention: strike & pitch corporate center.

you stared at the name, the vague sense of familiarity gnawing at the edge of your mind. the logo—a baseball bat crossed with a home plate—meant nothing to you, but something about it tugged at a memory you couldn’t place.

your fingers hovered over the message details. the sender was listed simply as you.

“what the hell?” you muttered under your breath.

the driver glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “everything okay?”

“change of plans,” you said abruptly, your tone sharp. “take me to... this place.” you held out your phone, showing him the address embedded in the qr code.

the driver hesitated. “are you sure?”

“just do it,” you snapped, a surge of frustration rising in you—not at the driver, but at the sense of disorientation that had become all too common lately.

as the car shifted direction, you stared out the window, gripping your phone tightly. the name, the logo, even the act of receiving the message—it all felt like a cruel game. like someone was nudging you toward something you weren’t ready to face.

strike & pitch corporate center. why did it feel like you’d been there before -----

as you stepped out of the car, the cool evening air enveloped you, biting at your skin. you hadn’t planned to be here, but the cryptic invite and the tug of something unexplainable had guided you to this unfamiliar, yet eerily nostalgic place. you clutched your phone tightly, staring at the faint glow of the qr code on the screen as you approached the entrance.

“welcome back,” the staff member at the door said, scanning the code. their tone carried a warmth that felt misplaced, like they knew something you didn’t.

you frowned, brushing past them. “back?” you muttered under your breath. the familiarity of the place clawed at your memory, a strange sense of déjà vu wrapping around you as you walked through the corridors.

the space was cavernous, its high ceilings illuminated by soft, artificial light. baseball memorabilia lined the walls, and the faint scent of leather and chalk filled the air. your eyes landed on a rack of bats. almost instinctively, you picked one up, the weight of it settling comfortably in your hands.

“huh,” you murmured, gripping it tighter as you made your way to the pitching machine. standing in front of it, you set yourself up, the bat raised.

the machine whirred, and you swung. the ball connected with a satisfying crack, soaring into the net at the other end. a rush of adrenaline pulsed through you, but before you could savor the moment, the sound of footsteps caught your attention. "you didn't miss." a cold voice said and your mind whirled some memory surfacing before you shake your head refusing to remember.

then came the sound of heels clicking against the floor. you turned, and there she was—mina.

she was stunning, her tailored black dress suit fitting her perfectly, exuding elegance. but it was her expression that unsettled you. there was no coldness, no detachment—just a quiet sadness that made you shift uncomfortably under her gaze.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended.

she held up her phone, her eyes steady. “you tell me.”

on the screen was the same invite you’d received.

you blinked, your confusion deepening. “i didn’t send that.”

“are you sure?” mina’s voice was calm, probing.

before you could respond, the lights dimmed, and a soft whirring sound filled the space. a projector came to life, casting a video onto the far wall.

your breath caught.

the first scene was unmistakable: your wedding day.

mina appeared on the screen first, seated in front of a vanity mirror. she was a vision in white, her wedding dress clinging to her frame like it was designed just for her. her makeup was flawless, yet her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her veil.

“this is stupid,” past mina muttered, avoiding the camera. “why would i need a video like this? i don’t...” she trailed off, her reflection catching her eye.

“i don’t even know why i’m doing this,” she continued, her voice softening. “but if i’m watching this someday... maybe something’s gone wrong.” her lips pressed into a thin line. “maybe i’m regretting something. maybe i’m...” she faltered, shaking her head.

“just turn this off,” she said firmly, her voice laced with frustration. “turn it off and go back to work.”

there was a pause, and she glanced down, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her veil. “but if you’re still watching... i hope it worked. i hope i didn’t ruin it.” her voice broke slightly, and she looked away, blinking rapidly.

the screen shifted to another scene: you.

your past self sat in front of the camera, dressed in formalwear. you looked nervous, fidgeting with your hands, but there was a small, tentative smile on your lips.

“uh, hi,” you began awkwardly, glancing away before forcing yourself to meet the camera. “so... i guess this is for the future?” you chuckled nervously, running a hand through your hair.

“this isn’t what i imagined for myself,” you admitted, your voice quieter. “an arranged marriage wasn’t part of the plan, but... i guess life happens.”

you hesitated, your smile fading slightly. “i’m scared,” you confessed. “i don’t know her that well, and... she scares me a little. but...”

your past self looked down, then back up, determination flickering in your eyes. “but i want this to work. i want to be good to her. and i... i hope she’s good to me.”

your voice softened even more, as though speaking directly to your future self. “just... don’t make her cry, okay? promise me that

the screen went dark, and the lights came back on. you stood frozen, the weight of the past pressing down on you. you stood frozen, staring at the blank wall where your past self’s words had just played, echoing in your mind. beside you, mina was unnervingly still, her gaze fixed on the floor. the weight of the moment was suffocating, a mix of confusion, anger, and something else clawing at your chest.

a staff member appeared, breaking the quiet. they approached mina first, handing her a bouquet of white lilies.

“mrs. myoui, these are yours.” they turned to you, “you rented out the space about two months ago and asked us to deliver mrs. myoui her favorite flowers. you used to come here often.”

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

“three years ago,” they repeated, “and mrs. myoui was with you the last time. i think you guys were only developing your relationship back then.”

a small envelope was perched delicately on top of the flowers. mina hesitated for a moment before taking it, but before she could open it, your hand shot out, snatching the envelope from the bouquet.

“give me that,” you muttered, ripping it open. the paper inside felt fragile, like it might disintegrate under your touch.

the words written were unmistakably yours.

another happy anniversary, my love. i don’t know if i deserve you, but i’ll spend every day trying to. here’s to us.

your breath hitched, and a bitter laugh escaped your lips. “what the hell is this?” you said, holding up the letter. “why would i write something like this? why would i celebrate a marriage with someone who—”

“who what?” mina interrupted, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. “who hurt you? who made mistakes?” she took a step closer, her eyes soft but steady. “or someone who loved you, despite everything?”

you stared at her, anger flaring. “don’t twist this around. you cheated on me, mina. what are you trying to prove?”

mina flinched at your words, her composure cracking just slightly. “i don’t blame you for moving on,” she said quietly, her voice wavering. “but you didn’t move on. you erased me. and now, you won’t even question why.”

“because there’s nothing to question!” you shot back, your voice rising. “you think i’d believe anything you after everything you’ve done?”

mina stepped closer, her gaze unwavering now, piercing through you. “then don’t believe me,” she said firmly. “but don’t believe jennie, either.”

you froze at the mention of her name, a chill running down your spine. “what are you talking about?”

“she didn’t protect you,” mina said softly, the weight of her words sinking into the air. “she isolated you. she fed you lies about me because it benefited her. because she wanted you to depend on her.”

your jaw tightened, your grip on the letter trembling. “that’s not true. jennie’s always looked out for me.”

mina let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “looked out for you? she made sure you’d never question what she told you. she kept you away from me because she knew if you ever remembered... you’d realize the truth.”

her words hit like a hammer, each one cracking the foundation of your certainty. your gaze dropped, unwilling to meet hers, and instead, it landed on her hand. the light caught her wedding ring, the delicate band glinting softly.

you stared at it, your mind a chaotic mess. you couldn’t look at her anymore. you couldn’t think straight. the past you thought you knew, the anger you’d clung to—it all felt unsteady, like a house of cards ready to collapse.

“you don’t have to believe me,” mina said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “just... don’t let her keep doing this to you. think for yourself. remember who you were.”

her words hung in the air as you turned away, the letter crumpled in your fist. your heart was racing, your mind screaming for clarity that wouldn’t come.

“i don’t know who i was,” you muttered, more to yourself than to her.

mina took a step back, her gaze lingering on you. “then figure it out,” she said quietly. “but don’t let someone else decide for you.”

her words followed you as you walked away, leaving her standing there with the flowers in her hands, a sad, defeated look on her face. -----

you stepped out of the car, your legs feeling heavier than usual as you approached the towering gates of jennie’s mansion. the chill in the night air wasn’t enough to explain the cold that settled deep in your chest. this wasn’t the first time you’d walked into this house, but tonight, everything about it felt... off.

the staff at the door greeted you with their usual professionalism, but their eyes lingered on you a moment too long, like they knew something they weren’t saying. you nodded briskly and entered, the echo of your footsteps against the marble floors amplifying the unease curling in your stomach.

each step closer to her room felt like crossing an invisible line, one you weren’t sure you could come back from. the hallway stretched endlessly, dim light pooling around your feet with every step. when you reached her door, you hesitated, your fist hovering in the air for a moment before knocking. the sound was hollow, unnervingly loud in the quiet.

“come in,” her voice called from the other side, smooth and detached, with an edge that made your chest tighten.

you pushed the door open and stepped inside. the smell of expensive perfume mixed faintly with the sharp tang of alcohol, wrapping around you like a suffocating haze. jennie was sitting by the window, draped in a silk robe that caught the dim light just right. her hair was loose, a little messier than usual, and a glass of amber liquid dangled loosely in her hand. she turned to look at you, her lips curling into a faint, unreadable smirk.

“well, if it isn’t you,” she said, her tone light but edged with something you couldn’t place. she raised her glass slightly in mock salute.

you didn’t sit down immediately, your eyes scanning the room. “what’s going on with you?” you asked, your voice steady but tinged with concern. “why are you drinking like this?”

she let out a soft laugh, the sound low and hollow, like a melody missing its key notes. “you’re worried about me,” she said, almost to herself. her gaze flickered to the glass in her hand before meeting yours. “that’s... sweet. it feels nice.”

the way she said it—like the idea of you caring for her was foreign—made your stomach churn.

“what’s so funny?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“nothing,” she said, waving her glass slightly before taking another sip. “it’s just... ironic, i guess.”

“ironic?” you echoed, confused and irritated by her evasiveness.

she didn’t answer, her gaze distant as she stared out the window.

you exhaled sharply, deciding to cut through whatever game she was playing. “i didn’t come here for this,” you said firmly. “i have a question—”

“hold that thought,” jennie interrupted, standing abruptly. “i need another drink.” she glanced back at you over her shoulder, a ghost of her smirk returning. “want one?”

“no,” you said curtly, watching as she sauntered over to the door probably going to her own bar.

as soon as she disappeared from view, a faint buzzing sound drew your attention to the coffee table. her ipad screen lit up with a notification: footage system – recent upload available.

your curiosity spiked, your gaze darting between the ipad and the doorway where jennie had disappeared. after a moment’s hesitation, you picked it up, your fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked the screen.

the notification led to a video—grainy footage from a hidden camera. the thumbnail showed jennie and bambam in a car, their faces illuminated by dim interior lighting.

your heart thudded in your chest as you pressed play. the video was silent, but their body language spoke volumes. jennie leaned in close to bambam, her expression one of sharp intensity.

you zoomed in on the footage, trying to piece together the context.

the sudden sound of jennie’s footsteps snapped you out of your focus. your hands moved quickly, exiting the video and locking the ipad before placing it back down, your heart racing as you leaned back in your seat, feigning nonchalance.

jennie returned, another glass in hand. she didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as she sat down across from you, her movements fluid but slower than usual.

“so,” she said, swirling the liquid in her glass. “what was it you wanted to ask?”

you hesitated, your mind still reeling from the video. you struggled to gather your thoughts, your fingers twitching slightly in your lap.

“never mind,” you said finally, your tone tighter than you intended.

jennie tilted her head, her smirk returning but softer this time. “don’t ‘never mind’ me,” she said, her voice playful but with an edge. “you came all the way here. what is it you wanted to know?”

you took a steadying breath, trying to push aside the unease. “what’s going on with you, jennie? why are you like this?”

her smirk wavered, just for a moment, before she looked down at her glass. “do you ever think about just... leaving all this behind?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost wistful.

“what?” you asked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

“the states,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “we could go there. start fresh. wouldn’t that be nice?”

you blinked, trying to make sense of her words. “what are you talking about?”

jennie smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it. “it’s funny,” she said, almost to herself. “being abandoned by everyone you care about. it’s lonely, but... freeing, in a way.”

her words hit you like a slap, but you didn’t let it show. “are you sure i was the one who was abandoned?” you asked, your voice cutting through the tension.

her mask cracked. her eyes widened ever so slightly, and for the first time, she looked genuinely vulnerable.

“do you think i’m lying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something raw and unguarded.

“it’s not that...” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“then what?” she pressed, leaning forward. her gaze was piercing now, stripping away whatever defense you had left.

you stood abruptly, needing to get out of the suffocating room. “we’ll talk when you’re sober,” you said, your tone clipped as you turned toward the door.

before you could take another step, her hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. her grip was firm but trembling, her fingers cold against your skin.

“don’t go,” she whispered, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

you looked down at her hand, your stomach twisting. after a long pause, you gently but firmly pushed her hand away.

“goodnight, jennie,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less resolute.

as you walked out of the room, you could feel her gaze burning into your back. the soft clink of her glass against the table and the sound of her shaky exhale followed you down the hallway, echoing in your mind long after you’d left. -----

the room felt like it was closing in on you. everything about this space—your desk, the bookshelves, even the faint scent of coffee in the air—should’ve been familiar. but it wasn’t. not anymore.

you sat at your desk, phone in hand, your thumb hovering over jihyo’s contact. a shaky breath escaped your lips before you pressed call.

“hello?” her voice came through, warm but cautious.

“jihyo.” your voice cracked slightly, and you cleared your throat. “i need a favor.”

“what’s wrong?”

“i lost my phone,” you lied. the words felt like gravel in your throat. “and i need mina’s number. can you send it to me?”

there was a pause, heavy and almost unbearable.

“...you’re calling her?” jihyo finally said, disbelief in her tone.

“yes.”

“okay. give me a minute.”

the call ended, and you set your phone down, staring blankly at the wall. your chest felt hollow, the weight of the past few days pressing harder than ever.

your gaze wandered, landing on the small safe tucked in the corner. something about it tugged at you—a faint echo of a memory just out of reach.

without thinking, you got up and knelt in front of it. the keypad stared back at you, taunting.

you tried a few random combinations, each failed attempt chipping away at your patience.

and then, as if whispered by a ghost, a date surfaced in your mind. march 24, 1997.

you froze. the thought alone was enough to make your chest tighten.

hands trembling, you typed: 032497.

the lock clicked. the sound reverberated through the silence, startling you.

inside, neatly placed, was a leather-bound notebook, an envelope, and a charm—a delicate four-leaf clover encased in glass.

your hand hesitated over the charm first, a flicker of something—familiarity? longing?—coursing through you. setting it down, you picked up the notebook, its worn edges soft under your touch.

just as you opened it, your phone buzzed. jihyo’s text lit up the screen with mina’s number.

you stared at it for what felt like an eternity, your hand hovering just above the device. the thought of calling her felt like plunging into ice water, but the lingering ache from the diary’s words pushed you forward.

you picked up the phone with trembling hands, thumb hesitating over the number before pressing the call button.

the line rang once, twice—each second dragging like an eternity.

“hello?” mina’s voice came through, soft but cautious, and it hit you like a punch to the gut.

you swallowed hard. “mina.”

a pause. the way she said your name next was barely above a whisper. “is this really you?”

“i... we need to talk.” your voice was firmer than you expected, but inside, your heart was racing.

mina was silent for a moment, and you could hear her take a steadying breath. “what is this about?”

“where are you?” you asked, dodging the question.

she hesitated before answering, her voice carefully neutral. “at home.”

“i’m coming over,” you said without waiting for her permission, ending the call before she could respond.

you set the phone down with a shaky hand, exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding. the tension in your chest didn’t ease—instead, it grew.

silence returned, but the weight of it felt different now. your gaze drifted back to the notebook, the pull of it irresistible.

sitting down on the floor, you opened it carefully, as if the pages might crumble beneath your touch.

the first line of handwriting stopped you cold. it was yours—messy, uneven, but undeniably yours.

you inhaled sharply as the first entry stared back at you.

april 2nd, 2023

the day we signed the marriage papers, i couldn’t look her in the eyes. i felt like i was selling my soul—or maybe just giving it away for nothing in return. she sat there, perfectly calm, her pen gliding across the pages like it was just another business deal. i wanted to scream at her, ask her why she was so okay with this, but instead, i just signed my name and sealed my fate.

when we left the gala she turned to me and said, “this is the best decision for both of us.” i almost laughed. i wanted to ask her, “best decision for who? you or your family?” but i didn’t. i just nodded and let her lead me into this life i didn’t ask for.

your chest tightened, and a dull throb echoed in your head. a blurry image flashed—a ring, her hand slipping it onto yours. your breaths grew shallow.

may 3rd, 2023

i don’t know what possessed me to start writing this, but... here we are. it feels kind of weird to pour all of this onto a page, but maybe it’ll help me figure things out. maybe it’ll remind me of why i agreed to this whole... arranged marriage thing. why i agreed to mina.

she’s cold, distant, and sometimes I think she hates me. but then... she’ll do something small, like bring me tea when i’m up late or adjust my tie before a meeting, and suddenly it’s like the ice cracks. i see her warmth, even if she doesn’t realize it’s there.

i don’t know what the future holds for us, but... i hope we can make this work. i hope she lets me in. i hope she doesn’t regret choosing me.

your breath hitched. suddenly, like a tide crashing over you, an image surfaced: mina, seated across from you in a sterile restaurant with her mother, her expression unreadable but her gaze piercing.

the ache in your chest deepened as you turned the page.

june 10th, 2023

we moved in together today. the house feels more like a museum than a home—cold, empty, too perfect. she barely said a word the whole time, just directed the movers like a conductor leading an orchestra. i tried to make conversation, but every time i spoke, it felt like my words hit a wall and fell to the ground.

that night, i sat alone in the living room, staring at the boxes i hadn’t unpacked. she walked in, her face as unreadable as ever, and handed me a cup of tea. “you should get some rest,” she said, her voice soft but distant. i wanted to tell her that rest was the last thing i needed, that i needed to feel like i wasn’t completely alone in this, but instead, i just nodded and watched her walk away.

august 27th, 2023

we had our first real fight today. it was about something stupid—her working late and not telling me. but somehow, it turned into this huge argument about communication and respect. for the first time, i saw her lose her composure. she snapped at me, her voice sharp and full of frustration, and for a moment, i thought she hated me.

but then, just as quickly, she softened. she apologized. i didn’t even know she was capable of that. “i’m not used to this,” she admitted, her eyes avoiding mine. “to... us.”

it wasn’t much, but it felt like a crack in the armor she always wore. for the first time, i thought that maybe—just maybe—there was a real person underneath all that perfection.

your hands trembled, the notebook growing heavier in your grip. you squeezed your eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the flood.

you saw her smile—soft, unguarded, so unlike the mask she wore for everyone else. it wasn’t just a memory; it was a feeling.

you flipped through the pages quickly, each word cutting deeper than the last.

december 1st, 2023

hiro came into our lives today.

it was mina’s idea to have an heir. at first, i thought she was doing it for appearances, to play the part of the perfect wife in the perfect family. but when she held him for the first time, i saw something in her eyes i’d never seen before: warmth.

she spent hours with him that first night, rocking him to sleep, whispering to him in japanese. i didn’t understand most of what she was saying, but it didn’t matter. the way she looked at him, the way her voice softened—it was like she was a completely different person. for the first time, our house felt like a home.

hiro.

the name hit you like a thunderbolt. flashes of a small boy—dark, curious eyes, a shy smile—flickered in your mind.

“hiro,” you whispered, the name feeling both foreign and familiar on your tongue.

your hands shook as you turned the page, desperate for more.

february 14th, 2024

valentine’s day. i didn’t expect her to even acknowledge it, but she surprised me. when i came to work that morning, there was a small bouquet of flowers on the table and a handwritten note. “thank you for putting up with me.” that was all it said. no grand declarations of love, no flowery prose—just a simple, honest message.

later that night, we sat together on the couch, hiro asleep in her arms. she leaned her head on my shoulder, and for the first time, it didn’t feel awkward or forced. it just felt... right.

may 30th, 2024

mina smiled at me today���not the polite, practiced smile she gives to everyone else, but a real, genuine smile. it was because of something stupid hiro did—he tried to feed his toy dinosaur some rice, and when it didn’t work, he threw the toy across the room in frustration. mina laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes, and when she looked at me, it was like she was letting me in on a secret.

in that moment, i realized something: the cold, distant woman i married was gone. in her place was someone who cared, someone who felt, someone who was learning how to love. and i think—no, i know—that i love her too.

your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes. the memories were rushing back, each one hitting you like a tidal wave.

the notebook slipped from your hands, landing open to another page.

you turned to the final entry, the ink slightly smudged as if it had been written in a rush—or through tears.

if we grow old together, i don’t want to forget you, mina. i don’t want to treat you like a stranger and forget. you’re the only person i want to remember.

as you read, the memories came rushing back—mina’s laugh, her touch, the way her walls slowly came down over time.

you remembered the way she looked at you the day hiro was born, the way her hand lingered in yours just a little too long. you remembered the sound of her voice as she read bedtime stories to hiro in japanese, her soft laughter as she stumbled over the english translations.

and most of all, you remembered the way she smiled at you that night on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, her guard finally—finally—down.

it was like a dam had broken inside you, the memories flooding back all at once, overwhelming and painful and beautiful.

as you moved to stand, your gaze landed on the open notebook once more. a faint metallic glint caught your eye, and you reached down to pick up the lucky charm that had fallen earlier.

your fingers brushed over its smooth surface, the glass cold against your skin.

you looked back at the diary, looking at the final page again, where your past self had poured everything out in raw, desperate handwriting.

“i don’t want to treat you like a stranger and forget. you’re the only person i want to remember.”

the irony of it all felt like a cruel joke.

your fingers curled tightly around the charm as you turned to leave, stuffing it into your pocket. you didn’t bother closing the diary, leaving it open on the desk like a scar you couldn’t bring yourself to cover.

whatever awaited you at mina’s, it couldn’t hurt worse than this.

at least, that’s what you told yourself. -----

you were gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white. the road ahead blurred through your tear-streaked vision, headlights casting fleeting shadows on the empty streets. your heart felt like it was caught in a vice, the weight of your emotions threatening to drown you.

you dialed jihyo’s number, voice breaking as you spoke. "jihyo, please follow my location... i need you to come." you didn’t give an explanation—there wasn’t time. your hands were shaking as you hung up.

your hands fumbled to send your live location as you navigated towards the address mina had given you. the snowy streets seemed endless, every passing moment a reminder of the distance between you and her.

"i’m sorry," you whispered to the empty car, to yourself, to mina. "i’m so sorry for everything. for hurting you." your voice cracked. "for forgetting you."

meanwhile, miles away, a notification pinged on jennie’s phone—a tracker alert. her jaw tightened as she opened the app, her fury mounting as she saw your car’s movement.

"what the hell are you doing?" jennie hissed under her breath, slamming her glass of wine down as she grabbed her coat and stormed out of her room.

the cold air bit at you the moment you stepped out of the car, but it didn’t register. all you could focus on was the lump in your throat, the suffocating guilt, the overwhelming fear that you wouldn’t make it in time.

the address mina had given you echoed in your head like a mantra. and there, through the flurry of snowflakes, you saw her.

mina.

she stood just outside her penthouse, wrapped up against the cold, her face illuminated by the harsh lights of the building. she spotted you immediately, and for a moment, her expression softened—relief flooding her features as she began walking briskly towards the lane.

you mirrored her movement, your heart pounding in your chest as you closed the distance. you were so close.

"stay there!" mina shouted, her voice sharp but trembling with emotion. "don’t move—i’ll come to you!"

you nodded, tears still streaming as you stood frozen on your side of the lane, the red light glowing between you. the snow muffled everything except the sound of your racing heartbeat.

but as she waited, a car suddenly came screeching from the side, its headlights blinding. before you could react, someone grabbed you, yanking you back. the world spun as you felt yourself being dragged, your cry swallowed by the sound of a truck roaring past mina’s view.

mina’s steps faltered, her eyes wide with confusion as the truck cleared the lane, and you were gone.

"no!" her voice cracked, rising in pitch as panic set in. she ran to the spot, her breaths ragged, her heart pounding in her ears. "where are you?! where did you go?!"

she spun around, her wide eyes scanning the empty street, her chest heaving. "this can’t be happening," she whispered, her voice shaking as she stumbled forward, desperate.

but you were gone.

minutes passed. the snowfall grew thicker, masking the world around her. mina’s breaths came in sharp gasps now, her composure crumbling as the realization set in.

"where are you..." she murmured, her voice breaking. she stumbled to the curb, gripping the icy edge of a lamppost as her legs threatened to give out.

she stopped, suddenly still, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

"this can’t be happening," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. her hands gripped her head, her knuckles white with the effort. "no... no, not again..."

minutes later, jihyo arrived, stepping out of her car with wide, worried eyes. "where are they?"

mina whirled around, her voice breaking. "they were here! i saw them—they were right there!" she pointed to the spot across the lane, her hand trembling.

jihyo pulled out her phone, quickly accessing the tracker. "i’ve got their location," she said, her voice firm.

mina didn’t wait for an explanation. "get in the car," she ordered, her tone urgent.

the two women climbed into jihyo’s vehicle, the tracker blinking with every second as they sped off into the night.

mina stared out the window, her fists clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms. her mind raced with fear and dread.

"just hold on," she whispered, as though willing the universe to listen. "please, just hold on." -----

you woke with a jolt, your head pounding, confusion clouding your mind. the room you were in was unfamiliar, cold. disorienting. the soft rustle of footsteps echoed through the silence, growing louder, and your pulse spiked. instinct kicked in, and before you could even think, you grabbed a vase from the nearby table, clutching it like a weapon. you squeezed your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest as you held your breath.

the footsteps grew closer. closer. the door creaked open. without a second thought, you swung the vase with all your strength. it collided with the man who entered, sending him stumbling back, groaning in pain. you didn’t wait for him to recover. you bolted.

you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, into the living room, trying to make sense of your surroundings. and then you saw her. jennie. standing in the middle of the room, the barrel of a shotgun resting casually in her hands, her cold gaze locked on you.

the sight of her hit you like a punch to the gut. flashes of your past with jennie, your past engagement, the trips to the kim family’s hunting grounds—everything you once thought you knew about her rushed back, only to feel utterly wrong in the moment.

memories flickered and died, their edges sharp and disjointed. you couldn’t grasp them, couldn’t hold onto them long enough to make sense of anything.

your mind was racing, but your body was frozen. you couldn’t move.

the bodyguard, the one you’d knocked out earlier, entered the room, disheveled, his face twisted with guilt as he bowed to jennie. "sorry, miss," he muttered, his voice low. "i failed."

jennie waved him off, her voice ice-cold. "it’s fine. you’re dismissed." she didn’t spare him another glance as he hurried out of the room.

it was just the two of you now.

jennie took a step forward, and you instinctively took a step back. her eyes locked on yours, her gaze piercing through you. "what are you doing?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm. "visiting mina?"

the words twisted in your chest. everything in you screamed to lie, to avoid the confrontation, but you couldn’t. "did you take me against my will?" you spat, your voice trembling despite the anger.

her eyes hardened, her lips curling into a cold smirk. "i didn’t want you to get hurt," she said, her tone eerily smooth. "mina's manipulation runs deep. you can’t see it, but i can. i couldn't let you go back to her. not after everything she’s done to you."

you shook your head, struggling to keep your composure. "i—" you hesitated, your thoughts jumbled. "i was there because i read a book," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "it had information about mina… and our marriage."

a flicker of doubt crossed jennie’s face, but she quickly masked it. her eyes narrowed slightly, her hand tightening around the shotgun, as if it would somehow give her control of the situation. "a book," she repeated, her voice dripping with skepticism. "you expect me to believe that?"

you rushed to recover, trying to regain some sense of control. you forced a smile, one that felt wrong on your lips. "maybe it was someone copying my handwriting," you said, almost sweetly. "but you… you could’ve just taken me back home, jennie. you don’t have to do this." "jennie, let's go back home. i'm sorry for doubting you, i won't ever do it again. i promise." you mumble your hands shaking as you tried to appear confident.

for a moment, jennie didn’t respond, just watching you with those cold, calculating eyes. you could feel her presence, heavy, suffocating. her fingers brushed your cheek, a touch so gentle, it almost made you flinch. "no," she said simply. "we’re leaving for the U.S. tonight. at midnight."

the words felt like a slap. your stomach dropped, your mind spinning. "what?" you asked, your voice shaking. "no, jennie. i—"

she cut you off, her voice cold, final. "don’t fight me on this. you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not."

your pulse quickened. "no," you repeated, shaking your head. "jennie, please. i—"

before you could say anything more, the door crashed open, and the guards stormed in, grabbing you roughly. you fought back, your body thrashing as they overpowered you, dragging you through the hallway and into a private bedroom.

your heart raced in your chest. you were panicking, trying to think of a way out, but your mind was a blur. the guards shoved you into the room, tossing you onto the bed with a force that made you fall while your leg bumped the bedside table. you tried to scramble to your feet, but the door slammed shut behind you with a deafening thud. you groan at the pain settling and and sat down at the floor.

you were trapped. suffocating. everything felt like it was closing in.

you didn’t know how to escape. you didn’t know how to fix this.

and yet, you couldn’t stop fighting. you wouldn’t give up. not yet.

-----

the car came to a jarring stop, tires skidding slightly on the icy road as jihyo glanced nervously at the imposing gates ahead. the storm was worsening, with thick snowflakes swirling like a suffocating veil, obscuring the land beyond. mina barely noticed. her eyes were locked on the ominous wooden sign by the gate, the words carved deep into the aged surface: “BEWARE KIM’S PROPERTY.”

her breath clouded in the freezing air as she stepped out of the car. jihyo scrambled to follow, calling out, “mina! wait! what are you doing?”

mina didn’t answer. her mind was racing, her heart pounding in her chest. she could barely feel the cold biting at her skin as she took in the high stone walls and shadowed periphery of the property. every instinct screamed danger, but that didn’t matter. not when they could be here.

jihyo caught up, grabbing mina’s arm. “this is insane! look at this place! we don’t even know if they’re already gone!”

mina yanked her arm free, her voice sharp and unyielding. “i know they’re here, jihyo. i can feel it.” she turned to face her, eyes blazing despite the storm. “call the cops if you want, but i’m not waiting for anyone.”

jihyo hesitated, fear and worry evident on her face. “mina, this isn’t—”

“just do it!” mina hissed before turning back to the gate. she crouched low, her sharp eyes scanning the grounds beyond. the guards were spread out, moving methodically through their patrols, but the snowfall worked to her advantage, obscuring her from their view.

clenching her fists to steady herself, she edged along the wall, searching for any sign of an opening. her breath came in shallow gasps as the cold air burned her lungs. her coat wasn’t nearly enough for this weather, and her fingers were quickly going numb, but she pressed on.

finally, her hand brushed against a patch of uneven stone near the base of the wall. squinting through the storm, she realized it wasn’t just stone—there was a narrow drainage grate embedded in the ground. it was small, barely big enough for someone her size to squeeze through.

mina knelt, her heart hammering as she tugged at the grate. it didn’t budge. she cursed under her breath, glancing over her shoulder at the guards in the distance. her fingers fumbled with the cold metal, pulling harder until her palms ached. the storm muffled most sounds, but she couldn’t risk making too much noise.

finally, with a grating screech that made her flinch, the metal shifted. she slipped inside, landing awkwardly on the frozen ground below. the narrow tunnel smelled of damp earth and rust, the faint trickle of melting snow dripping somewhere nearby. she crawled forward, her knees scraping against the uneven surface.

the passage seemed endless, and for a moment, panic set in. her breath came faster, her chest tightening as the walls pressed in around her. but then she saw it—a faint glow at the other end.

mina emerged into a small utility shed, the interior dimly lit by a flickering overhead bulb. it must have been part of the property’s maintenance area, though it looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

she pushed the door open just a crack, peering out. the main estate loomed ahead, its towering structure dark against the snowy backdrop. guards were stationed closer now, their heavy boots crunching through the snow as they patrolled.

mina’s pulse quickened. she had no idea how she would get past them, but there was no time to think. she adjusted her coat, pulling it tighter around herself to blend into the shadows as best she could.

the snow made it harder to move quietly, every step leaving tracks that could give her away. she hugged the wall, slipping between hedges and outbuildings, her heart lurching every time a flashlight beam swept too close.

then, as she rounded a corner, her foot caught on a patch of ice. she stumbled, barely catching herself before hitting the ground. the noise drew the attention of a nearby guard.

“who’s there?” the man called, his flashlight cutting through the darkness.

mina’s breath hitched. she pressed herself against the wall, praying the storm would mask her presence. the guard moved closer, his footsteps crunching louder with every step.

her fingers brushed against something in her pocket—a small, loose rock she’d picked up earlier without thinking. she gritted her teeth, then tossed it toward the opposite end of the yard. the faint clatter was enough to draw the guard’s attention, and he turned away, muttering curses as he went to investigate.

mina exhaled shakily, her legs trembling as she forced herself to move again. she was close now. just a little further.

then she saw it—a side entrance, half-hidden by an overgrown hedge. the door was locked, but as her hand brushed against the handle, it gave way with a faint click.

a rush of relief flooded her as she slipped inside, her heart pounding in her ears. she was in.

the interior was dark and unwelcoming, the faint smell of gun oil and wood lingering in the air. it looked like some sort of storage area—rows of cabinets lined the walls, along with hunting gear that seemed meticulously maintained. the eerie silence made her hyperaware of every sound she made, from her shallow breaths to the soft crunch of snow still stuck to her boots.

mina moved cautiously, staying close to the walls as she navigated through the room. every shadow seemed to shift, every creak of the old wooden floorboards setting her nerves on edge. the estate was much larger up close, and it was clear she was nowhere near the main living quarters.

just as she turned a corner, a sudden sound made her freeze.

footsteps. close. deliberate.

her heart jumped into her throat as she pressed herself flat against the wall, her hands trembling. a flashlight beam swept across the room ahead, casting long, menacing shadows that danced across the walls.

“thought i heard something…” a low voice muttered, the guard’s tone sharp with suspicion.

mina bit down on her lip, her breath barely audible as she gripped the edge of a nearby cabinet for balance. her mind raced, weighing her options. run? hide? fight? none of them seemed feasible, not with the guard just a few feet away.

the footsteps grew louder, and she could see the edge of the flashlight’s beam creeping closer. she shifted slightly, her hand brushing against something cold and metallic on the cabinet—a hunting knife, still in its sheath. she didn’t think; she just grabbed it, tucking it into her coat.

the guard’s shadow loomed larger, the beam of light now just inches from her hiding spot. her pulse thundered in her ears as she backed further into the darkness, every instinct screaming at her to move, to escape, but her legs refused to obey.

“i swear i heard something,” the guard said again, stepping fully into the room. his flashlight swept over the cabinets, the hunting gear, the floor—and then, just as it began to drift toward her corner—

a loud crash echoed from somewhere deeper in the estate.

the guard cursed, spinning on his heel. “damn it. what now?” he muttered, hurrying toward the noise.

mina didn’t move for a long moment, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as she listened to his retreating footsteps. she clutched the knife tighter, her palms slick with sweat despite the freezing cold.

finally, when the silence stretched long enough to feel safe, she forced herself to move, her legs trembling as she slipped further into the estate.

but the reprieve was short-lived. another sound reached her ears—not the crash this time, but something softer.

a voice. faint, distant, yet unmistakable.

“mina…”

her blood ran cold, her steps faltering.

it wasn’t possible. was it?

she turned slowly, her breath hitching as she strained to listen. the voice came again, clearer this time.

“mina…”

her name, spoken in a tone that sent shivers down her spine. it wasn’t the guard. it wasn’t anyone she expected.

before she could process what was happening, the beam of another flashlight lit up the hallway just ahead of her.

“there! someone’s here!”

her heart stopped. -----

you pressed your ear against the cold wooden door, listening for any sounds beyond it. muffled footsteps and occasional voices filtered through, but nothing distinct enough to tell you how many guards were stationed nearby.

your mind raced. you needed to get out of here—but how? the barred window offered no escape, and the door was locked from the outside.

in a moment of desperation, you banged on the door, feigning panic.

“help! i need help!” your voice cracked, laced with urgency.

the footsteps outside stopped.

“what’s wrong in there?” a gruff voice called.

“please, it’s an emergency!” you continued, your tone shaking. “there’s glass everywhere, and i think i cut myself. i’m bleeding!”

the handle jiggled, and you stepped back, holding your breath.

the door creaked open, revealing one of jennie’s guards—a burly man with a skeptical look on his face. his eyes swept the room before landing on you.

“where’s the glass?” he asked, his tone wary.

you widened your eyes, feigning distress as you gestured vaguely toward the table.

“it—it fell over there,” you stammered, taking a small step closer to him.

he turned his head slightly, and that was all you needed.

with a swift, calculated movement, you clenched your fist and drove it into his jaw. the impact sent a sharp pain shooting through your knuckles, but it was worth it—the guard staggered back, stunned.

before he could recover, you grabbed the back of his head and slammed it against the doorframe. he crumpled to the floor with a groan, unconscious.

your chest heaved as you stepped over his limp body, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

the hallway stretched out before you, dimly lit and eerily quiet. you moved quickly, trying to make sense of the maze-like layout.

muffled voices filtered through the walls, catching your attention. you froze, pressing yourself against the wall beside it.

you peeked around the corner. jennie stood by the fireplace, her back to you, one hand holding the phone while the other rested casually on a shotgun.

the sight made your blood run cold.

the memory hit you like a freight train—the long hunting trips to the kim family's private grounds, jennie’s eerie calm as she taught you to aim. it was all too familiar, yet so jarringly wrong in this moment.

“…yes, everything is under control,” jennie’s voice carried through, calm but laced with a strange edge.

a man responded, his tone low and familiar, though you couldn’t quite place it. your chest tightened, the sound pulling at something buried in your memory, but there was no time to linger on it.

rounding a corner, you froze.

mina.

she was crouched near a window, her eyes scanning the area looking at the guards patrolling. "mina..." you whispered annoyed and slightly shocked wondering what she's doing here. your breath was caught seeing her holding what appeared to be a hunting knife.

you whispered her name once again low, but urgent. a guard was rounding the corner, the beam of his flashlight sweeping closer to where mina was hiding. he muttered something into his radio, his voice low but sharp, signaling that he was seconds away from discovering her.

your body moved before your mind could catch up. you spotted a breaker box on the wall nearby, its metal panel slightly ajar. without hesitation, you yanked it open and scanned the switches in the dim glow of a nearby emergency light.

the guard’s flashlight beam shifted, now aimed directly toward mina.

“someone’s here—”

you flipped the main breaker switch, plunging the hallway into total darkness.

“what the—!” the guard’s voice rang out in confusion, followed by the sound of his hurried footsteps as he stumbled blindly in the dark.

mina’s silhouette turned sharply in your direction, her expression barely visible in the faint emergency light.

“come on,” you hissed, motioning for her to follow.

she hesitated, her breathing unsteady, before rising to her feet and moving toward you.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice barely above a hiss.

“trying to get you out,” she shot back, standing up. her expression was a mixture of relief and exasperation.

“mina, this place is dangerous—”

“you think i don’t know that?” she cut you off, grabbing your arm. “we need to move. now.”

behind you, faint noises of confusion and shuffling echoed through the halls. guards barked orders, their flashlights cutting weak beams through the pitch-black maze of corridors.

you reached the door, its cold metal handle freezing to the touch as you twisted it open. the icy wind slapped your face, but freedom was close.

“come on,” you urged, pulling mina through. the two of you slipped outside, the snowstorm swallowing the faint sound of voices yelling within the estate.

but as you stepped out into the open air, you glanced back—just in time to see a flashlight beam bouncing erratically through the window, followed by the unmistakable silhouette of jennie.

for a moment, she stood frozen, her sharp gaze sweeping the now-empty hallway inside. then, realization struck.

you saw it—her head tilting slightly, lips parting in disbelief. and then rage.

jennie moved like a predator, yanking a shotgun off the rack by the door and shoving past the confused guards who stumbled out behind her.

“they’re out there,” she barked, the fury in her tone cutting through the chaos.

mina tugged on your sleeve. “we have to go.”

you nodded, your grip tightening on her hand as you broke into a sprint. the snowstorm worked in your favor, the thick flurry obscuring you from view as you darted toward the treeline.

but jennie was relentless.

behind you, the crunch of heavy boots through snow grew louder, the distinct metallic click of the shotgun’s safety being turned off making your blood run cold.

“you think you can just walk out?” her voice rang out, sharp and furious.

you didn’t dare stop, your breath ragged as you pushed mina ahead of you.

“keep going,” you urged, glancing over your shoulder.

through the swirling snow, you saw the faint glow of jennie’s flashlight slicing through the darkness, drawing closer.

mina hesitated for a second, looking back as well. “she’s—”

“don’t stop,” you interrupted, pulling her along. “we’ll make it.”

but the storm was thick, and the sound of jennie’s pursuit was unrelenting. every step felt like a gamble, each second another chance for her to close the gap.

you knew it was only a matter of time before she caught up.

-----

the snow fell heavier now, the bitter chill cutting through the thin fabric of your coat. you staggered forward, your steps uneven and slow, each one a monumental effort. your leg throbbed from earlier, the pain pulsing in sharp waves up to your hip, but you kept moving.

"just... a little more," you muttered under your breath, barely audible over the crunch of snow beneath your boots.

mina was ahead, glancing back every few seconds, her eyes sharp and full of worry. "we don’t have time for this," she said, urgency laced in her voice. she moved to your side, slipping an arm under your shoulder to help support your weight.

"no," you rasped, your voice breaking. you pushed at mina’s arm weakly. "you go first. just... get out of here. i’ll catch up."

mina stopped, glaring at you with a mix of frustration and desperation. "don’t you dare say that to me."

you gave a bitter laugh, your breath visible in the frigid air. "you don’t... understand. i’m slowing you down. if something happens..." you paused, your voice trembling. "i can’t lose you again."

mina froze, the words hanging between you like a weight too heavy to carry. but then she shook her head, her jaw tightening as she gripped your arm tighter.

"stop talking like that," she said firmly, her voice cracking just slightly. "we’re getting out of here together."

your legs buckled slightly, and mina adjusted quickly, holding you upright. "mina," you whispered, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "i’m sorry."

"for what?" mina hissed, trying to move you forward.

"for forgetting you." the words came out broken, each one heavy with guilt. "for leaving you behind… for not being there when you needed me most."

"stop." mina’s voice was sharp, her breath hitching. "this isn’t the time for this."

"but it’s true," you said, your head dropping slightly. "i forgot everything about you. about us. i..." your voice faltered. "i don’t deserve you."

"i—" you started again, but she shook her head sharply, her grip on your arm tightening even more.

"don’t," she said, her voice trembling. "don’t apologize right now. this isn’t the time, okay? we can talk about all of that later, but right now, you need to focus on getting out of here. i can’t do this without you. do you understand me?"

the sound of distant engines broke through the air, pulling you out of the moment. the glow of headlights pierced the trees, growing brighter with every second.

"we have to move," mina said, her voice steady despite the panic in her eyes.

"okay," you murmured, nodding slightly. "okay."

meanwhile, back at the entrance, jihyo was surrounded by chaos. the cops had arrived in full force, tactical teams storming the hunting grounds, their voices crackling through radios. a helicopter roared overhead, its spotlight cutting through the snowstorm.

jihyo’s phone buzzed in her hand, but she barely registered it. her focus was on the team moving in, her heart pounding in her chest. "find them," she urged, her voice shaking.

inside the estate, jennie stood before a wall of cctv monitors, her eyes scanning frantically. then she saw it—a glimpse of you and mina, your figures barely visible as you disappeared into the woods. her jaw clenched, and without hesitation, she grabbed the shotgun leaning against the wall.

"they’re not getting away," she muttered, storming out.

the guards scattered as jennie shoved her way through, ignoring the commotion around her. she didn’t wait for backup or explanations, her sole focus on the escapees. the crunch of snow beneath her boots echoed in her ears as she reached her car, the shotgun clutched tightly in her hands.

back in the woods, you and mina trudged forward, the snow blurring your vision. you stumbled again, nearly collapsing, but mina caught you, her arms trembling from the effort.

"you’re not stopping," mina said firmly.

"mina..." you whispered, your voice weak. "i..."

"you can apologize later," she snapped, though her voice wavered. "just keep going. please."

far behind you, the sound of an engine roared to life. jennie was on the move.

-----

the snow fell quietly, coating the ground in a soft, thick blanket. every step felt like a battle, your legs shaking from the pain of being thrown earlier. you leaned on mina for support, her presence grounding you when everything else seemed to be slipping away.

"thank you... for everything," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. it felt like you were saying goodbye, like the weight of everything—every betrayal, every lie—was crashing down on you all at once.

mina’s grip on your arm tightened, her face hard with determination. "don't say that," she muttered, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "we’re not done yet. we're getting out of here, together."

your legs faltered again, and you stopped for a moment, guilt clawing at your chest. "i... i regret suspecting you. all this time..." you trailed off, the weight of your own emotions nearly crushing you. mina was here with you, and yet you’d spent so long doubting her. you couldn’t make sense of it.

"it’s not your fault," mina whispered, her voice low, but there was a softness in it that cut through your pain. "we’ll fix this. stay with me." she pulled you closer, moving with you through the snow, her footsteps quick and purposeful.

but far away from where you and mina were, jennie’s car sped down the winding road, tires screeching on the icy pavement. her face was a mask of fury, eyes cold and unblinking, focusing on the road ahead. she spotted the figures of you and mina walking through the trees, her heart pounding in her chest. the sound of helicopter blades overhead, the rising wail of police sirens, it didn’t matter. all that mattered was you.

she slammed her foot on the brake and jerked the wheel, sending the car to a stop. she didn’t care about anything else—she grabbed the shotgun from the passenger seat and stormed out into the cold, her breath coming out in sharp bursts, her grip on the weapon tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

"you’re making a mistake," jennie shouted, her voice sharp, venomous. she marched forward, the snow crunching under her boots as she advanced toward you and mina. "we agreed! we were going to leave together! come back to me now, and i'll turn a blind eye. everything can go back to the way it was."

you could barely stand, your legs giving way as you leaned more heavily against mina. the pain in your body, the pressure of the situation—it was almost too much to handle. "i’m sorry," you said, barely able to form the words through the lump in your throat. "even when i didn’t have my memories... i couldn’t choose you. my body... rejected you." the words tasted bitter, but they were true. you could still feel the unease, the way your chest tightened whenever jennie was near.

jennie’s face twisted in disbelief, but it quickly morphed into something darker. her eyes burned with rage. "why? why do you feel like that?" she shouted, her voice breaking with frustration, with hurt, with anger. “why?!” jennie shouted, her voice a raw mix of anger and desperation. she took another step closer, her face twisted in fury. “i waited! i fucking waited! why, after everything, does it have to be this way? why is it always mina?”" her eyes flashed, her entire body radiating fury. "i waited for you! i was patient. i tried to understand, so why... why would you feel uneasy around me?"

“you don’t understand—”

“then explain it to me!” jennie screamed, her voice echoing through the woods. the shotgun in her hands trembled, and for a moment, her tears seemed to overpower her rage.

“because you’re not her,” you choked out, tears spilling over. “because even when i forgot everything, something in me still remembered her. she’s the one i choose, jennie. not you.”

mina stepped forward, her voice sharp and protective. "jennie, stop. it’s over. they’re with me now. just let it go."

but jennie’s rage only intensified, her entire demeanor changing in an instant. "it’s NOT over," she spat, her voice shaking with fury. "you don’t get to choose! you made a promise, and i’ve waited too long for this."

she moved closer, her voice desperate now, but still full of anger. "we can start fresh. just come back to me, please. i’ll forget all of it. we can fix everything, we can be happy again."

she reached out, her hand trembling slightly but firm. it was as if she was offering you everything—control, power, redemption, and yet, all you could feel was the suffocating weight of her possessiveness, the coldness that came with every word. you took a shaky breath and stepped back.

"stop," you shouted for the first time, your voice breaking through the noise, through the confusion, through the chaos. "stop it, jennie. snap out of it." your voice cracked under the weight of the emotion, of everything that had built up. "i’ll never choose you. over my dead body."

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the helicopter, the wind, and the silence that followed. jennie’s face faltered for just a moment—a split second where the facade of calmness, the softness in her eyes, disappeared completely. rage burned in her chest, and the mask shattered. the pleading, the calmness—it was gone. in its place was something terrifying.

she looked at you, her mouth curling into a snarl, her grip on the shotgun tightening. "over your dead body," she hissed, voice low and deadly.

the tension was unbearable. you could feel the weight of her anger, the pressure of her presence pushing down on you like a vice. mina was standing between you and jennie now, her face set in a look of fierce determination. she was ready to protect you, no matter what.

and just as the helicopter overhead cast its blinding light onto you and mina, the sirens echoing louder and louder, jennie’s face twisted with something almost... feral. she looked at you one last time, the fury in her eyes unmistakable, before she turned and gripped the shotgun like it was the only thing left keeping her together.

the cops were closing in, their sirens deafening now, and jennie knew the game was over. but that didn’t stop her from staring at you as if she was willing to burn everything to the ground to keep you by her side.

she raised the shotgun, her eyes filled with murderous intent, but she didn’t fire. not yet. -----

the air was thick with tension, the distant hum of helicopters and the blaring sirens creating an almost suffocating atmosphere. red lights from the police lasers flickered in the distance, casting an eerie glow on the snow. jennie stood there, unyielding, her body trembling with fury as she pointed the shotgun directly at you and mina.

"drop the weapon!" a voice boomed from a police megaphone, echoing through the cold night air. "now! or we will be forced to take action!"

the words fell on deaf ears. jennie didn’t budge. she was seething, her grip tight on the shotgun, and her eyes burned with a kind of desperation and rage that made your heart race.

“if i have to take you with me to keep them—then so be it!” jennie shouted, her voice full of venom and madness. she gestured toward you with the barrel of the gun, her eyes wild with a twisted possessiveness. then, without warning, she pointed it toward mina.

“no!” you shouted instinctively, your heart hammering in your chest. but before you could even react, jennie’s finger tightened on the trigger.

the sound of the shot echoed through the night air, deafening in its intensity. but it wasn’t mina who cried out in pain. it was you.

you threw yourself in front of mina, instinct overriding your fear. the blast of the shotgun was deafening, reverberating in your bones as the impact hit. the force of the shot struck you in the shoulder, sending you flying back. your knees buckled beneath you as the searing pain exploded through your body. your whole arm felt like it had been torn open, the heat of the injury spreading quickly.

you gasped for air, but all you could feel was the suffocating pressure in your arm. your vision blurred, and you collapsed into the snow, the cold wetness against your skin mingling with the warmth of the blood pouring from your wound. the snow around you was quickly stained, crimson soaking into the pristine white, each drop a mark of your struggle.

“no!” mina’s voice cracked, sharp with panic. she was beside you in an instant, her hands trembling as she pressed against your wound, but there was too much blood. her eyes were wide, her face pale, and you could hear the desperation in her voice. “don’t you dare! don’t you dare leave me!”

she was wailing now, a raw, guttural sound that echoed in your ears. tears poured down her face, and she shook you gently, her hands desperately trying to stop the bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. the blood soaked through her fingers, the warmth of it slowly leaving your body. she didn’t care. she didn’t care that she was covered in your blood. all she cared about was you, and that was slipping away.

she was frantic, panicked, and terrified. her face, usually so composed, was twisted with fear. "why did you do this?" she cried, her voice breaking. "why didn't you listen to me? why didn’t you stay back? please don’t leave me!"

your blood soaked into her hands, but she didn’t care. she didn’t care that her clothes were stained. all that mattered was you. you were still alive, still breathing, but she was losing you all over again. she collapsed onto you, pressing her cheek against your chest, as her sobs wracked her body.

meanwhile, jennie stood a few yards away, her fury barely contained. she had just fired that shot, and now you were on the ground, your blood staining the snow—and she couldn’t comprehend it. her face twisted with disbelief and rage as she saw you fall. her chest heaved with every breath, and her grip tightened on the shotgun, her knuckles white with tension.

but before she could move, a sudden flash of red appeared on her chest. the red dot of a laser, sharp and precise, gleaming in the cold, followed by more, dotting her chest, her arms, her legs. the snipers had zeroed in on her. they were tracking her every movement, the weapons aimed at her from all directions.

jennie froze, her eyes widening in realization as the laser sights pinned her down. she could hear the crackle of the police radio, the shouts from the officers closing in, but she didn’t care. she raised her shotgun, glaring at mina with pure, seething anger.

“you—” she gritted through clenched teeth, her voice shaking with fury. “you… will never take them from me. i will make them stay with me, one way or another.”

she aimed the shotgun directly at mina, but before she could fire, a shot rang out—loud and clear. jennie staggered back, her body jerking as she collapsed to the ground. the shotgun fell from her hand, her grip loosening, and she let out a strangled gasp.

her face twisted in agony, the pain from the bullet in her side overwhelming her, but her eyes were still burning with rage. she reached for the gun again, but the effort was futile.

as jennie lay on the cold ground, mina’s sobs grew louder. she was beside you, crying out your name, her voice trembling with fear. “no, no! please, don’t leave me…” she wailed, cradling your head against her lap. “please! i can’t lose you! i can’t…”

“help! someone, please—don’t let them die! don’t let them—”

she couldn’t finish the sentence. her voice broke as she sobbed uncontrollably, her hands still pressing to your shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. the blood kept pouring, the darkness creeping in, and mina couldn’t save you.

“please, don’t leave me,” mina begged, her voice raw and frantic, clinging to the last shred of hope. “i can’t lose you again… please…”

the sound of sirens and helicopters filled the air as the police closed in, but mina’s eyes never left you. the snipers had done their job, and now it was just the waiting—waiting for the paramedics to arrive, waiting for a miracle.

but mina wasn’t waiting anymore. she was crying, wailing, begging you to stay, to fight, to not leave her again. her heart shattered with each sob, and she held you tighter, as if trying to somehow hold you together, keep you from slipping away.

-----

the world around you spun in a blur. everything felt distant, too far away to touch. your body was numb, your skin cold, and your vision—fading. you could feel yourself being moved, dragged, the rough motion jolting your body, but the pain barely registered anymore. everything felt so heavy.

the only thing you could focus on was the stretcher beneath you, the soft whirring of the ambulance, the cold air biting at your skin as they rushed you away. the blood was still pouring from your shoulder, staining your clothes, and the coldness in your veins spread like a creeping tide, slowly drowning you.

voices echoed around you—sharp, urgent. the paramedics shouted orders to each other, their voices blending into the chaos. someone was yelling into a radio, demanding the hospital prepare for an emergency. amidst the noise, one voice stood out—jihyo.

“they’re losing too much blood! you have to move faster!” her voice was steady but desperate, each word edged with fear. she was running alongside the stretcher, her hand gripping your uninjured arm. her eyes were wide, panicked, darting between your face and the paramedics.

“stay with us, boss.” jihyo urged, her voice cracking as she tried to sound strong. “don’t close your eyes, do you hear me?”

her words were sharp, cutting through the fog in your mind. you wanted to respond, to reassure her, but the strength wasn’t there. your eyelids felt like lead, your body heavier with every second.

then, you saw her—mina. her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide with a fear you’d never seen before. she stood at the ambulance’s open doors, trembling as she hesitated, unsure if she should climb in. jihyo turned to her, grabbing her shoulder and practically shoving her inside.

“go! stay with them!” jihyo barked, her own tears glistening in the harsh red and blue of the emergency lights. “don’t leave them alone.”

mina stumbled into the ambulance, her hands clutching the edge of the stretcher as the doors slammed shut. her breath was shaky, her entire body trembling as she crouched beside you.

“mina…” your voice was weak, barely a whisper. you forced the words out, needing to know. “are you… okay?”

mina’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she stared at you, frozen. then, as if something inside her shattered, she shook her head. “it’s you who’s hurt! it’s you!” she sobbed, her hands gripping the stretcher’s edge so tightly her knuckles turned white. “why… why did you do this? why do you always—” her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands for a moment before looking at you again. “you’re the one who got shot, not me! don’t ask me that!”

you tried to lift your hand, to reach for her, but your body wouldn’t obey. the effort was too much. instead, you rasped, “live for… sana... momo... hiro…”

“no,” mina choked out, shaking her head violently. her tears fell freely now, dripping onto the stretcher. “you don’t get to say that. you don’t get to give up. you need to live. for me. for hiro. please…”

your eyelids fluttered, the darkness creeping in, but you managed a faint smile, the corners of your lips barely lifting. “it’s… going to be okay…”

“no, it’s not!” mina cried, leaning closer, her hands now on your chest, as if she could keep your heart beating through sheer will. “it won’t be okay if you’re not here!”

the paramedics worked frantically, shouting updates to the driver. the ambulance lurched, the lights inside flickering as it hit a bump in the road. you barely noticed. your vision tunneled, the edges darkening.

“don’t leave me…” mina whispered, her voice breaking. she pressed her forehead to your shoulder, her sobs muffled as she clung to you. “don’t you dare…”

you blinked slowly, the tears in your eyes slipping down your cheeks. you could see her, hear her, but the world was slipping away, fading into nothing. her face, her voice, everything was becoming a distant echo.

and then, with one last breath, a single tear slid down your face.

the world went dark. ----- end of the series. a/n — thank you :)

[pitrsattabhaadmeinjaa]

wont you kiss me on the mouth (and love me like a sailor)

buddie, 2.1k

beta reader: @krissy-kat

“I’m in love with Eddie!” Buck nearly yells as soon as his sister opens the door after his frantic knocking and calls of her name, panting like he’d run a marathon, half-leaning on the doorframe, half falling inside. “Maddie, I’m in love with my best friend!”

“Buck–” Maddie’s eyes are wide and she’s carrying a half filled wine glass.

He started turning around to find a place to lay down and never get up again, just to stop in his tracks when he saw what had Maddie so worked up.

Eddie.

Or, Buck discovers he’s in love with Eddie, rants about it to Maddie, and doesn’t realise Eddie is right behind him.

“I’m in love with Eddie!” Buck nearly yells as soon as his sister opens the door after his frantic knocking and calls of her name, panting like he’d run a marathon, half-leaning on the doorframe, half falling inside. “Maddie, I’m in love with my best friend!”

“Buck–” Maddie’s eyes are wide and she’s carrying a half-filled wine glass.

He sidesteps her to enter the house, rubbing his face like if he did it hard enough, he could stop feeling these emotions. He walks in a few steps and turns to her with his back to the rest of the house and says, “Maddie, oh god, I’m so fucked, Maddie– I was just dropping off Chris at his friend’s house for a sleepover and the kid’s mom met me outside to greet us,” Buck starts gesturing with his arms, “And after Chris went inside she started asking about me, right, like, asking how I am and if I knew how this sweater brings out the color of my eyes, and like of course I know, that why I chose it, but that's besides the point. The point is that it made me uncomfortable! Like, since when has someone hitting on me made me uncomfortable?

“And then when I thought about it a little, Maddie, you know what I realized? I didn’t like it because she’s not the one I wanted to notice my sweater, I didn’t like it because I wore it to meet Eddie later today,” he burst out, “to go get pizza at this new place that opened up that we wanted to try and see if Chris would like it, and I wanted him to like my sweater and my eyes!”

“Buck, wait–”

“No, no, this cannot wait. I’ve been thinking about that the whole drive here, that I want Eddie to think I look good and that I think he looks extremely good in the jeans that came half-off with this sweater that I let him borrow because I knew they would look so good on him– No, stop distracting me, I need to tell you what happened next.”, he said, holding up both hands. Buck had been stewing in that fact deeply the whole hour and a half that he had been driving and sitting in traffic, thinking back to every interaction he’d had with his best friend. Had he always liked the way Eddie’s brown eyes shone whenever he smiled at Buck, or how his fingers looked perfect for sucking on, or how his voice was all rough and raspy and hot in the mornings? No wonder Tommy left him after a few months.

“Apparently, that lady wasn’t his mom, but just her twin sister who’s visiting, which, does make more sense because I know his actual mother loves her husband too much to do that, and when Sandra came out, she apologized to me, to which I replied ‘no, it's all good’, but then, she scolded her sister, which at first I was confused a little by,” Buck splayed his hands open, showing his apparent confusion, “but then she told her sister that I’m Christopher’s other dad, Eddie’s husband. And I wanted to correct her, but I didn’t, because you know why?”

He fisted his hands and joined them, and leaned down toward her, speaking through his teeth, “Because I liked it! I liked her referring to me as Eddie’s husband, as Christopher’s dad, because,” he tilted his head pointedly, “as I’ve deduced on the ride here, I want to be Eddie’s husband and Christopher’s dad!”

Maddie’s face had a look of urgency, and she was looking behind Buck, but he disregarded it as soon as she said, “Buck, Eddie is–”

“Yes, I know Eddie’s straight, and he could never love me like that,” he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, and a broken, wet laugh emerged from him, “but I just needed to tell you as soon as possible because you gave me some pretty solid advice on how to deal with Eddie-related stuff last time, and oh my god, that wasn’t me trying to get Tommy’s attention was it? I was trying to get Eddie’s back.” His hands were no longer against his eyes, and his face was lit with a mix of realization and dismay. His head was also brimming with the same, realizing that he’s been in love with Eddie for far longer than he thought, and devastated with the fact that he can’t do anything about it. Eddie was straight, and their relationship will never be the same after this, because there is no way that Buck can keep lying to his Ed–his friend for long, no way that he can bear Eddie not knowing everything about him.

He started turning around to find a place to lay down and never get up again, just to stop in his tracks when he saw what had Maddie so worked up.

Eddie.

Eddie, sitting there on Maddie and Chimney’s couch. Eddie, with his mouth open and a beer halfway to his mouth. Eddie, with his eyes wide and that borderline pornographic mustache he’d grown.

Eddie, who heard all of that. Eddie, who is surely about to break Buck’s heart by letting him down gently and he cannot bear the rejection right now.

So he did the only rational thing one can do in a situation such as this. Taking a page out of all his ex’s books, he ran.

…

Eddie didn’t think his ears were working right, because there is no way that just happened, right? His best friend didn’t just basically confess his love to him and run away, right? Right?

Except that’s exactly what happened, because even if he was delusional and hallucinating that, the expression on Maddie and Chim’s face is shocked enough that he can be sure they all saw that.

So now that he’s sure that was real, he can safely go through his emotions, starting with: What. WHAT. Buck loves me? Buck loves me back? What?! Fuck. Buck loves me. Fucking fuck yes. Buck loves me. Wait. Fuck. Buck loves me. Buck ran away. Shit. Buck doesn’t know I love him. Shit. SHIT.

Maddie’s looking at him, apparently over her shock now, sporting an expectant look on her face. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

The sound of an engine starting outside stirred him from his own dazed surprise, and he did the only rational thing one can do in a situation such as this. Taking a page out of Buck’s book, he ran.

After Buck, that is.

Eddie kept his beer on the table and leaped to his feet, and ran out, foregoing shoes, and saw Buck’s Jeep pulling out the driveway, on the street. Shit. “Stop, Buck, wait! Buck, stop, would you just–for god’s sake Buck, stop!” He didn’t.

Due to the lack of fully-there-ness because the love of his life had just said he loved Eddie back, no one can blame him for what he did next. He ran in front of the car. Because more than he was reckless at the moment, he had full trust in Buck not to run him over.

Which turned out to be true because as soon as Buck saw him, he braked hard and then just–froze. His baby blue eyes wide open and hands gripping the wheel, he just sat there staring at Eddie who was in front of the car with his hands out.

Eddie pointed at Buck. “Out. Now. No running.”

Buck's face turned stony and he reinforced his grip on the wheel. “No.”

“No? What do you mean no? Get out of the car, Buck!”

“Or what?” Buck’s face was now doing that thing where he thought he could stay strong enough to resist the Diaz Eyes, patented by one Christopher Diaz. He was so annoyed, because he never could. And he’d done enough therapy to know that Eddie wouldn’t let this ruin their friendship but Buck was too high on his emotions that he couldn’t take even a gentle let down by his best friend, so he resorted to acting petulant.

Eddie, who was also a Diaz and aware of the Eyes, said nothing and just stared at Buck pointedly, with one finger still pointing to the ground outside the Jeep.

Buck, as expected, didn’t hold out long. His face turned resigned, and he heaved a big sigh, folding in on himself in the driver’s seat. He slowly started opening the door, and Eddie, now satisfied Buck would actually come out, went over to him.

He got out of the car, eyes downcast and opened his mouth to defend himself. “Eddie, please. Just reject me later, I can’t bear it now–”, only to be interrupted by Eddie’s lips.

Wait. By Eddie’s lips? What?

Eddie was kissing him. Eddie was kissing him. Eddie was kissing him. And Buck was just standing there like an idiot.

Well, no one said he couldn't learn and go with the flow. He brought his hands up, one to Eddie’s, who was cupping Buck’s face, and one to Eds’ hip, holding him close. The kiss was…amazing. It was everything they said it would be. Fireworks, a burst of emotion, senses dulled to everything except the points their bodies were touching.

It was magnificent. And short-lived. Eddie pulled away first, Buck subconsciously leaning forward to chase his lips, away from where he was pinned against the Jeep. He opened his eyes, and the world, and all of its tortuous realities, came flooding back.

“What.”, his voice cracked. Tears were starting to build up in his eyes, and Evan Buckley had never been more confused in his life.

Eddie was still staring at his lips, and said dazedly, “God, I should’ve been kissing you a long time ago if that’s what it feels like.”

“What.” Buck’s world was rocked. What did Eddie just say?

Eddie took pity on him, and looked up at his eyes. And then he said the most ridiculous thing ever. “I love you too, Buck.”

“What. I– I don’t understand.”

Eddie softened then, his smile turning small and quiet, and his eyes took a devastatingly watery quality, “I want you to be my husband too, and Christopher’s other dad. Legally, that is, because you’ve been raising him alongside me for years now a.”

Oh. Buck’s world rocked further. This all wasn't a dream, or a confusing second reality. Eddie loved him. Eddie wanted to be his husband too.

Buck’s expression started clearing up, a hopeful one dawning on his face. He was the happiest man in the whole world, and he knew Eddie wouldn’t lie to him, but, “Really?”

His future-husband’s face turned mock reserved at that, a glint of mirth in his eyes giving him away. “Well, no, I was just kidding–”

Buck interrupted him with his lips, “Nope, no take-backs, you said it now, sorry.”, with a cheeky smile, and Eddie gave up all pretense, laughing fondly at the man he loved. They leaned in again, and Eddie gently poured all the love he had into this kiss, moving a hand up to Buck’s hair and pulling him in even closer by his waist with another. They moved slow, because it felt like they had all the time in the world now, and nothing could get in between them, nothing– click.

They broke apart, both grinning at each other dopily first, to see Maddie and Chimney out on the front porch, twin grins pulling at their faces and taking a photo of them.

Chim gave them two thumbs and Maddie held the phone up to them and yelled, “I’M SENDING THIS TO THE GROUPCHAT.”

Chim pointed aggressively at them and said, “BUCK I’M GONNA BE YOUR BEST MAN, I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU BUT DON’T YOU DARE ASK ANYONE ELSE!”

Maddie looked up from her texting at that, “Sorry, babe, but I’m gonna be his best woman.” Buck chimed in from his place in Eddie’s arms, “Yeah, Chim, sorry, but she’s right.”

“Aw, well,” he sighed, “You’re the only person I’d give up that spot to.”, and lovingly pecked his wife’s cheek.

Eddie looked back then, “DON’T WORRY, BUD. YOU CAN BE MINE!” Chim whooped at that, and Maddie went back to the barrage of texts that must surely be coming in from their family, shaking her head fondly.

Buck kissed him again, chastely this time, for his sister’s sake. “You don’t think we’re moving a little fast?”

“This has been seven years in the making, baby. You’re my family, and I’m not waiting on societal norms to make it legal.” Eddie punctuated that with a kiss to Buck’s birthmark, and what could Buck do other than melt?

His eyes shone, and he let his grin lose once again. “Well, thank god for Sandra.”

Eddie laughed into his love’s neck, and hugged him close.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

[shadamyheadcanons]

Do you think that, with Shadow being in a stasis for 50 years, and before that, living on the Ark, which consisted mostly of people way older than him, he'd struggle with romance at first?

Like, for example, being super awkward when it comes to it (especially the early stages) or not knowing how to approach things in the best way possible, if that makes sense?

I guess that'd also be a lack of experience of sorts?

I completely agree. I also think he wouldn’t have dating experience before Amy because I don’t see him as the type to “settle for less;” he doesn’t with friendship, after all. The only way I could imagine him having more experience than Amy is if they get much older and she’s still holding out for Sonic, but even then, I can’t put Shadow with anyone else specifically. If I ever write a Shadow who has an ex, I have no idea who the ex is. I try not to think about it tbh.

All of his social awkwardness would compound with his nerves, too, so he’d make mistakes. Clumsiness, freezing up, saying the wrong things, being hostile when he doesn’t mean it...he could easily scare people off. And he’s not used to making mistakes, so he wouldn’t cope well.

There’s a reason he works so well with the most sympathetic member of the cast. Amy could laugh off a lot of things that would rub others the wrong way; she knows who he is and wouldn’t take it personally.

I think he’d do fine once he calmed down and just acted like himself. He’s a naturally smooth, confident guy, and he could learn to lean into that and even be flirtatious after a learning curve. I have an older headcanon about that.

[darlingdreadwrites]

cam 5

pairing: Edward Nashton x GN!Reader*

part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

summary: Edward is finally rewarded with the warmth of your touch and affection – or is he?

contains: reader working at a bookstore, slight dom elements, obsessed Edward, religious imagery, suggestive touching, riding

warnings: MDNI, *AFAB!Reader but i don't specify gender, dub-con, stalking, degradation

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

For a moment, Edward feels as though he is floating. He is suspended in a massive plane of darkness, unable to move. He doesn’t remember the last time his mind was so quiet, so peaceful. It was as if he was in a realm between time and space – until he finally opens his eyes.

He was in the bookstore – your bookstore – standing in front of two bookshelves. You were there, standing in between them, shelving books. The sight of you surrounds him with a warmth that emitted from where you stand, ethereal and glowing. You were something angelic, and yet undeniably human. Edward could feel the weight of your presence settle in his chest like a blessing. You were an impossible vision, a being neither entirely of earth nor heaven, a force that demanded worship and devotion. The shelves around you seem to bend toward you, as though bowing in reverence.

The room stretches upward, spiraling to an unseen paradise. The air feels thick, and his view of the world is heavy. The shelves move never-endingly; they were no longer neat rows of books but towering spirals getting sucked into a luminous void behind your figure.

His breath catches as you finally turn to look at him, a kind smile on your face. You approach him with the grace of someone who already knew his every thought, every longing—someone who had chosen him. Your steps are soundless on the polished floors, and he feels an impossible pull to be closer to you, as though his soul is tethered to yours. He can almost not feel the pain in his chest. A throbbing, pulsing hurt that recedes once you get close enough. Or maybe it was that the pain had consumed him enough that he grew numb to it. It doesn’t matter in the end, you’re here now. You are warm, kind, and comforting – a stark contrast to the strange, twisted cathedral around you.

Your hands are soft, the kind of touch that felt both maternal and intimate. You cup his face like you were cradling something precious. Your thumbs graze over his cheeks in a way that makes his eyes sting. He is too afraid of you disappearing if he blinks. Your face tilts, studying him like he has any worth. He is fragile and tender, so tender. Edward feels cherished – safe. His knees shake slightly under the weight of this moment, but he fights it. He should be on his knees before you, but he wanted to stay between the warmth of your hands. As he gazes up at you, he can’t help but tremble.

For a moment, there is only peace – a powerful, sacred peace.

A whimper escapes him as you apply pressure to his face, fingers digging into his skin. Your nails sting while you grip him tightly, the smile on your face unwavering. Your fingers press harder, squeezing so hard that his mouth falls open with a sharp cry. And just as the pain started to become overwhelming, your grip loosens.

One of your hands slides down, dragging your nails over the curve of his neck, down his chest, and it burns. Edward shudders under your touch, the sensation not entirely painful, not entirely comforting – just too much. He swallows hard. The heat of desire and shame tangle together in a painful knot.

Then, the words came. Soft, lilting, but slicing through him.

“You’re disgusting.”

The words – so cruel – come from a place where malice and sweetness are one and the same. Your smile, still welcoming and pleasant, belies the puncture of your statement. His confusion makes him dizzy. There is nothing that feels right about the words, nothing logical about them, and yet… they are the only thing that make sense. They are what he needs to hear. He flinches, his body responding involuntarily.

His heart hammers in his chest as you tilt his chin up, your thumb pressing into his skin in a way that makes him ache. He feels small and insignificant under your gaze. The hand that wasn’t on his face travels lower, palming and pressing against his groin with deliberate force. His mind screams at him to reject the sensation, but his body betrays him. He jerks, hips twitching into your palm – seeking more of that sinful pressure. He can’t breathe, can’t think as his chest heaves. The shame twists inside him as his eyes widen.

“Please…” he whimpers, his voice cracking as the smallest shift in your hold on him causes him to moan.

You lean in, your face hovering just inches from his. Your beath was warm on his trembling lips.

“Filthy, filthy thing,” you whisper, the words ghosting against his skin.

The bookstore around you both begins to collapse, the arches crumbling into darkness. The shelves twist, warp, bend in on themselves. The golden light dims to an abyssal void – yet you remain bathed in a holy light. He is consumed by you – by your presence, by your touch, by the haunting words. You hold him in place, your smile syrupy and mocking as you get closer to him. He reaches for you just as your lips brush his.

Edward wakes up with a strangled cry, drenched in sweat. He bolts upright, wide eyes attempting to make out anything in the darkness of his apartment. His heart pounds like a drum, and painfully. The sensation of your touch still scorches his skin as his mind races. He touches his face where your hands had been.

There is a purpose to that dream, he rationalizes, you’re calling to me – touching me beyond this plane of reality.

Edward sits at the edge of his bed, staring at the empty coffee mug on his desk. The remnants of the dream still cling to him like a phantom touch. He’s spent the better part of an hour replaying it in his head. The way your voice had curled around that single phrase – “You’re disgusting” – makes him shiver even now. He is repulsed by the fact his body seems to enjoy how you insulted him with such a loving tone.

He needs to get out of his apartment.

It was suffocating him now. It was logical to get out, wasn’t it? He has been cooped up here for too long, buried in the glow of his monitors and the labyrinth of code he’s been pouring over for weeks. Normal people went out to public places. They sat in cafes, walked in parks, and – yes – they read in bookstores. It wasn’t suspicious for him to do so. It wasn’t strange.

I need to take care of myself.

The thin veneer of his words failed to hide the truth he is unwilling to admit. His attention drifts to the books relevant to his research on his desk. And now, here he is, preparing to go back to the same bookstore under the flimsiest of excuses.

Edward stands and moves to his closet, fingers brushing over the very few neatly hung shirts as he tries to decide what to wear. It wasn’t like this was a date – it wasn’t – but he can’t help the flutter of nerves in his chest as he debates between the gray sweater that makes him look softer or the green button-up that matches his eyes.

He settles on the sweater. Soft was better. Non-threatening. Approachable.

Next comes his hair. He stands in front of the cracked mirror, meticulously combing it into place only to muss it up again. He runs his fingers through it over and over, muttering under his breath how it refused to cooperate. Finally, he gives up and leaves it as it is. He wipes his glasses clean on the corner of his sweater, holding them up to the light to check for smudges. He can’t help but picture you noticing them, leaning in close with a teasing smirk to point out a speck he’d missed. The thought makes his cheeks flush, and he shoves the glasses back onto his face almost frantically.

“Okay,” he whispers, taking a deep breath and facing his mirror again. He attempts at practicing a warm, friendly smile – but it seems too unnatural on his face. He raises a hand and waves, practicing what he’d do if he saw you. “Hello. How, how are you today?”

It was completely normal for me to rehearse like this. I’ve seen it in movies.

Doubt creeps in as he assures himself.

He sits back down on his mattress, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Was this really okay? As self-reproach gnaws at him, he replays the dream – your voice just as sharp and cutting as you call him disgusting.

Edward’s stomach churns. Maybe he is disgusting. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to block out the image of your kindhearted, smiling face from the dream. The image of your hands had roamed over him, one of them traveling lower and lower until—

“No,” he snaps, standing abruptly. He can’t let his mind go there; he can’t let his body failing him again before he stepped out the door. He doesn’t have time to touch himself – to relieve himself – again.

He paces the room, his steps uneven and hurried. He mutters to himself that it’s fine to go to your bookstore with no other reason than to just be there.

With a determined breath, he grabs his coat and slings it over his shoulders. He hesitates only once more at the door. His hand stills over the knob as your voice echoes in his mind again, soft and cruel all at once. “Filthy, filthy thing.”

His grip tightens, his knuckles whitening around the doorknob as he shoves the memory aside. Instead, he focuses on the warmth of your touch – the comfort he felt as you held his face in your hands.

Edward steps out into the deafening silence of the hallway, the door closing behind him with a resolute click. He tells himself that he isn’t walking toward you. He isn’t trying to chase the fleeting connection he felt in the dream. He is only going to read.

And that isn’t a lie. Not entirely.

Edward pauses in the doorway of the bookstore for a moment, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of paper. There were a decent amount of patrons this evening, the distant hum of conversation creating a low symphony of activity. Edward’s gaze sweeps the room until he catches sight of you. You stand behind the counter, your back to him as you help someone. Even from this distance, you are magnetic. Your presence commands his focus with the same intensity as the figure in his dream—

His heart beats so fast it feels like it might bruise his ribs. The dream! It was vivid and consuming, filling his chest with reverence, dread, and arousal.

“Just… sit,” he tells himself, forcing his legs to move away from you.

He wanders through the aisles, feigning interest in the messily arranged books but barely registers the titles. His sole focus was finding the perfect vantage point. At last, he finds it – a small table tucked into a corner with a direct line of sight to the counter.

He sinks into the chair with a small smile, placing the book he’d grabbed at random on the table in front of him. His fingers fidget with the edges of the pages. His eyes flick up to you every few seconds despite his best efforts to focus on the text.

Stop staring, he berates himself. You’re making it obvious.

But your pull is too strong. Each glance was a sin, a stolen moment of connection.

Edward’s mind begins to betray him as the dream bleeds into reality. In the dim bookstore light, your form seems to glow faintly. The edges of your silhouette blur and he blinks hard, trying to dispel the illusion.

“You’re disgusting.”

He whips his head to the right, a soft gasp on his lips. You were not there – nobody was. The words echo in his mind and his stomach twists. He snaps his attention back to his book, suddenly feeling like all eyes were on him. You didn’t say that. You wouldn’t – not to me.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he feels your hands snake all over his body. He was starting to feel remorseful again, but it isn’t enough to make him leave.

Then it happens.

You turn, making eye contact with him almost immediately, as if you had felt his presence. For a moment, your eyes meet, and you smile. A smile that was merely a polite gesture to others, but to him, it was as inconsequential as it was devastating.

Edward’s heart hammers so loudly that he is certain you are able to hear it. His face flushes, and he quickly looks back down to read the words swimming before his eyes in a meaningless blur.

You saw me.

The thought reverberates in his mind, equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. He clings to the image of your smile. It is everything to him. A slow smile spreads across his face, eyes wild and glued to a single word on the page. “Passion.” It is almost fitting – actually, it is perfectly fitting.

The minutes tick by, stretching into an eternity as he sits there and sneaks glances when he thinks you won’t notice. He can’t stop – not even when each look feels like a delicious risk.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a darker thought begins to spread. This isn’t enough. Sitting here, watching you from afar. It is a poor substitute for what he truly wants. What he truly needs.

Edward swallows dryly, his hands gripping the book as his imagination runs wild. He pictures you looking at him the way you had in the dream – not with polite indifference. But with a look of intensity of someone who wanted him.

You’re touching yourself – or touching him, he can’t tell from the proximity – breathing heavily and looking at him with half-lidded eyes. Neither of you are wearing any clothes. He can feel your skin, but his mind refuses to conjure up what your body might look like even as he desperately tries to look down at you. You both moan, sweat covering both of your bodies in a sticky tangle of limbs. The fantasy spirals, painting an intense picture of you closing the distance between you. What he believes is your perfect, naked body on top of his – thighs caging his hips and grinding sensually as you throw your head back in pleasure. He's embarrassingly loud, sputtering and panting like a dog while you’re mewling softly and elegantly.

He grunts in frustration, trying to squint and make out your peaked nipples or how your heat rides his length in vain. His hands grab onto your hips to bring you impossibly closer to his stuttering hips – he was so close. You look down at him to smile sweetly. It softens into something fond as you lean down to whisper in his ear. He can almost feel your breath on him, hear the saccharine venom of your words—

“Stop it,” he says under his breath, shaking his head to dislodge the fantasy.

He needs to leave. He’s throbbing with a discomfort that borders on pain.

Edward stands, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushes it back. He grabs the book and returns it to the nearest shelf, his movements clumsy. As he makes his way to the door, he can’t resist stealing one last glance at you. You are busy again, helping yet another customer with the same warm grin that had shattered his composure moments before.

The bell chimes violently as he steps outside, the cold evening air hitting him like a splash of cold water. That’s what he needs – a cold shower. He shoves his hands into his pockets, his mind buzzing with visions of him and you. He was disgusting.

The water steams down Edward’s back in scalding rivulets, but it does little to wash away the lingering sensations of the day. His shower was supposed to be freezing – a penance to purge himself of the memory of your smile and the fantasy that followed. Yet, it hadn’t taken long for his resolve to crumble.

Edward had given in – his mind stuck on every detail of your fleeting glance at the bookstore, every imagined touch from the dream and fantasy. He’d cursed himself through gritted teeth even as his body betrayed him, chasing an unbearable high that left him slumped against the shower wall. He felt ashamed and hollow.

Steam fills the small bathroom, the heat now oppressive as his mind begins to clear. Edward slides down on the wet tiles, burying his face in his hands. The sound of water drowns out his sobs.

The words from his dream ricochet through him, cutting through the fog of his exhaustion. He winces, stomach feeling like it’s coiling at the memory – no longer making him feel aroused.

No, you’re wrong, he protests pathetically. I’m not disgusting. This isn’t disgusting.

He clings to the threadbare justification like a lifeline, dragging himself back to his feet as the water cools to a lukewarm drizzle. Edward shuts off the shower, the sudden silence amplifies the turmoil in his mind.

He dries himself and avoids his reflection in the mirror, unable to face the pale figure staring back at him. Instead, he focuses on his hands – hands that had sinned against you. The same hands that would someday cradle your face like you had done his. If only he could make you understand.  

Back in his room, Edward plops down into the creaky chair at his desk. Like a robot, he searches for your computer. The webcam feed blinks at him, and there you are again. At the sight of you, he almost wants to cry once more. The smile from the bookstore lingers in his mind. His eyes drank in the soft curve of your lips, the way your hands moved as you organized something on your desk. The image of your hands from his fantasies resurfaces, making his heart ache.

“Thank you.” Edward wets his lips, his voice a dry whisper in the quiet room. “For bringing this angel into my life.”

He clasps his hands together, fingers interlocking tightly in prayer. He isn’t sure who he was thanking – a god he’d long since abandoned, fate, or perhaps the dream itself. All he knows is that he feels chosen, as though your existence is a message meant solely for him.

The fantasy builds again as he stares at you, unbidden and unstoppable. In his mind, he sees you smiling at him the way you had in the dream – soft and cruel all at once, yet impossibly kind.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Another part of untangling the Garashir knot i.e. trying to make their relationship make sense for fic-writing purposes is the question of Bashir’s ability to trust and be vulnerable around Garak.

I got to thinking about that because of this 10-year-old post (yay old meta dives!) that points out that Bashir is just as emotionally closed off as Garak in The Wire, and it’s really true - he never explicitly tells Garak he that he cares about him, but instead frames his care for him through their doctor-patient relationship, or through his higher ethical convictions (that is, when Garak says “Have you considered I might be getting exactly what I deserve?” and Bashir says “No one deserves this”). And given that part of the conflict of that episode is Bashir’s uncertainty as to whether Garak actually considers him a friend or cares for him on the same level as Bashir cares for Garak - as indicated in Bashir’s conversation with Dax - I think it speaks to a level of emotional self-protection on Bashir’s part that’s pretty often at play in his relationship with Garak.

Because for all that he wants Garak to open up to him in those early episodes - it comes up in a more playful mode in the way they banter with each other, but The Wire shows more legitimate frustration from Bashir at the possibility that Garak might not trust him - Bashir never actually leads by example there. When does he ever share anything about his personal history with Garak? When does he ever confide in him about his hopes and fears and insecurities? Pretty much never! And he’s not at all averse to sharing things about himself, whether it’s to get laid (like the adapted story about his medical exams) or to make a friend (like him telling Miles about Palis in Armageddon Game, or telling that pregnant woman about Kukalaka in The Quickening). He gave Jadzia his medical school journals (to get laid… and make a friend?). And there are plenty of instances of him confiding in his friends - Miles, Jadzia, Ezri - about his insecurity, fear of failure, feeling like he’s a monster because of his genetic engineering, etc.

But not with Garak. The closest he gets to sharing anything significant about himself is his grumpiness about turning thirty in Distant Voices, which isn’t even close. And you could argue that that’s a contrivance of the writing, a consequence of their relationship not being allowed to be developed more. But I actually think it makes a lot of sense from a character angle. Because for all that he seemingly can’t stop talking about himself, Bashir is a lot more selective about what parts of himself that he shares than it initially seems, as is most obviously demonstrated by the fact that he hid his being genetically engineered from everyone for years. So I do take him at his word when he tells Jadzia in The Wire that he doesn’t exactly trust Garak either, and I think that’s modeled in his (possibly subconscious) reluctance to truly open up to him. I mean, in Distant Voices he casts the guy telepathically attacking his brain as Garak! Which he and Garak laugh off in an extremely charming scene at the end of the episode, but it really does say something about how he sees Garak on a subconscious level.

So it’s honestly much easier for me to imagine fic scenes and whatnot in which Garak opens up to Bashir, because there is plenty of precedent for that in canon - largely in The Wire, but also when he vents to Bashir about his frustration with Tain and desire for Tain’s forgiveness in In Purgatory’s Shadow. And there’s a real sense that he really does want to unburden himself to Bashir, even if primarily in his own evasive, circumlocutionary way. But it’s so, so hard for me to get Bashir to a place where he’d do something similar with Garak, because given his characterization wrt their dynamic, I just feel like there’d need to be so much more work done in their relationship to get him to feel that kind of trust towards Garak.

(This dovetails with my headcanon that they weren’t that close in the later seasons, because the events later in the show would honesty make that even more difficult. After being interrogated by an intelligence organization, I imagine Bashir would be even warier of Garak!)

There’s also the fact that the most intense intimacy between the two of them always comes up in situations where Bashir is the stronger one, and Garak is the one who needs to be cared for, who’s being pushed into being vulnerable. And that again is a contrivance of the writing, but it is something that I think is compelling to contemplate when it comes to their relationship dynamic - specifically, how it might affect a long-term relationship dynamic in a post-canon setting. Because Bashir can be something of a fixer-upper when it comes to his romantic relationships, and I do see him as drawn to dynamics where he’s the stronger one who’s positioned to care for and guide the other person. And so, while I don’t think Bashir would be the sole cause of any difficulties that might arise in their relationship - trying to get open and honest communication from Elim Garak really would be like pulling teeth - I can really see him falling into a pattern of thinking with Garak wherein Garak is the one who needs to be cared for, the one who needs to communicate with him, etc etc, but being very very bad at being open and communicative with Garak in turn. Even if their relationship does develop sufficiently for him to feel more comfortable sharing himself with Garak - and I really think that it could - I still imagine his first impulse when he’s Going Through It would be to close himself off from Garak. And that does cause problems.

A broader angle that canon does not really bring out is the potential for Bashir’s dynamic with Garak to draw out some of Bashir’s hypocrisies, or aspects of his ideology that are incomplete or contradictory. Bashir on Cardassia post-canon has a lot of potential to do this - not that I’d want him to let go of Federation ideals, but the reality of living somewhere else would necessitate those ideals being qualified, or him becoming more flexible. And with the shift in their dynamic, in which Garak is in his natural habitat (even if it’s drastically changed from the Cardassia he remembers) and Bashir is the outsider, Garak could potentially be put in the role of having to guide or protect Bashir. And given the nature of Cardassian politics, the actual methods he might take in order to do so would imo not necessarily be within Bashir’s comfort zone. And I like the idea of that conflict, and that kind of testing of Bashir’s values and expectations and perceptions, coming through on a smaller scale just within their relationship, wherein Bashir really wants Garak to communicate with him but finds it (not even consciously!) very difficult to reciprocate that.

[luxyue]

knife boots — part vii.

xiao x reader, figure skating au

masterlist | previous

➥ NEW VOCAB ❝ axel ❞ an edge jump, the only jump that takes off from a forward position and the oldest + most difficult jump

vii. and the walls come down

The weight of your confession presses against your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. You are still unable to look Xiao in the eye, but you can feel his stare drilling into you, like he’s waiting for you to explain yourself—but there’s no easy way to explain this. No way to make this mess sound simple. So you sit there, fighting the lump in your throat, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

"I didn't want to tell you," you start, your voice coming out in a sad whisper. "I never wanted to talk about this again, but I couldn’t keep lying to you. Not when you put so much effort into helping me…I’m sorry. I...I cheated. I did. But Xiao, please, please don’t be mad at me."

Xiao’s face is unreadable, and that is almost worse. You would rather see his anger, or pain, or even disappointment. But this? The silence, in the quiet of his living room where nothing but your heartbeat fills the air, is unbearable. Your fingers tremble in his grip, but he doesn’t let go.

“I know you probably hate me now, but please,” you beg, your words coming out in a rush. “It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t want to do it. They…they made me. They said I had no choice. I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to be... them. I just wanted to win for myself. I wanted to prove that I could. But I didn’t have the chance to do it the right way. I was too scared, Xiao, please...”

The words spill out, each one heavier than the last. You don’t know how to stop, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you already know it doesn’t matter. The damage is done.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Xiao moves. His hand releases yours, and for a brief moment, you fear that you've lost him. But then his voice comes, cutting through the thick silence.

“Do you think I’m mad at you?” His words are soft, but there’s an edge to them that makes you your thoughts run wild. His eyes meet yours, his gaze as sharp as knives. “Do you honestly think I’m mad at you?”

You look up at him, trying to process his words, trying to make sense of them. “Are…are you not?” you whisper. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

Xiao lets out a bitter chuckle, but it’s not a laugh. “No,” he says slowly, as if choosing each word with care. “No, I’m not mad at you. Not at you.”

A wave of confusion floods over you, but you don’t dare interrupt him. You need him to finish what he’s saying. “I’m mad at them,” he continues, his voice filled with apparent anger. "I'm mad the Harbingers, Y/N. The people who put you in this position. The ones who forced your hand, who made you feel like this was your only option. Not you.”

His words land with a heavy thud. You hadn’t expected this, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. But it’s still not a feeling of relief—it’s guilt. So. Much. Guilt. The anger in Xiao’s voice isn’t directed at you, but it still feels like a slap in the face. You’ve disappointed him.

“But,” he adds, his voice growing firmer, colder, “that doesn’t mean I’m okay with what you did. Your titles…technically, you don’t deserve them. Even if it wasn’t your choice to dope, and even if you had the talent to do it without.”

You flinch at the truth of his words. A part of you wants to argue, to tell him that there was truly no other way. But you can’t. You know he’s right.

“I didn’t want to,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I didn’t want to cheat. But they said if I didn’t, if I didn’t do it, I’d lose everything. All my chances, all my hard work, everything. And I couldn’t lose that. Not after everything I’ve fought for. Please, Xiao, you have to understand. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t.”

Xiao’s eyes flicker with something—maybe sympathy, maybe understanding—but it’s quickly replaced by something darker. He moves closer to you, his gaze still steady, and you can’t look away. “I understand,” he says quietly, his voice tight. “I understand more than you think. But that doesn’t change what happened.”

You swallow hard, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. You just wanted to win on your own for once. To prove yourself. You never imagined it would end up like this, with your career on the line and your guilt swallowing you whole.

“I swear,” you choke out, the words almost desperate, “I swear I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to win like this…I wanted to earn it. I wanted to win for myself. But now...” You shake your head, more tears threatening to spill as you feel the weight of everything crashing down on you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Xiao looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s just going to walk away, leaving you to figure this out alone. You don’t think you can handle that. You’re barely holding it together as it is.

“Please…don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, almost pleading now. “Please, I can’t have everyone knowing. Not yet, at least—I just... I just want a chance to make it right. Please, Xiao, I promise I’ll make it right on my own.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moves forward, his hand reaching out to hold your own, and out of desperation, you allow lean into the warmth of his touch.

“…I’m not going to tell anyone,” Xiao says softly, his voice steady. “But you have to understand something. You have to prove to me, to everyone, that you’re better than this. That you can win on your own, without cheating…and without them.”

You nod furiously. “I will,” you promise, your voice thick with emotion. “I swear. I’ll prove it. I’ll win for myself. For real this time.”

Xiao’s gaze softens, but there’s still a glint of something hidden in his expression. He doesn’t fully trust you yet, and you can’t blame him. You’ve broken the trust between the two of you. But maybe, just maybe, you can rebuild it, starting now. One step at a time.

“I suppose I don’t mind offering my help along the way,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

At this, you actually let out a small laugh. “I…really, really, appreciate that, Xiao,” you whisper back.

Xiao pulls you into a hug, and the weight on your chest doesn’t entirely dissipate, but the guilt feels a little lighter. First time in a while, you think maybe you can find your way out of the mess you’ve made. With Xiao by your side, you hope you can fix things before it’s too late.

[yierrem]

a/n: i honestly don't know if gepard has an office. he probably does. i also have no idea how his coat works. damn you hyv clothing physics. i knew he was educated to some extent but while i was doing a deep dive into his lore, i learned he has a bachelor's degree and that really is so sexy. i do hope you enjoy the ramblings of a man starved

gepard x m!reader (no gendered terms, though) ; suggestive, implied sex, nudity ; wc: 563

a notification breaks the captain out of his work-induced stupor. at the sound, he picks his phone up, a small smile gracing his lips when he sees your name on screen.

he unlocks it, looking forward to whatever update you sent him before immediately slamming it back down on his desk with enough force that makes him momentarily worry about the device’s condition. he wouldn't want to lose what he just got.

his face is burning, but he tries to compose himself after taking a deep, shaky breath. he unlocks his phone once more to your messages. one was a photo, yet it wasn’t just any photo. while he was used to receiving mundane snapshots of whatever you were occupied with, even pausing to admire ones with your face in them, nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight that greeted him in your shared chat.

you were laid down on your chest in front of a mirror positioned at the foot of your bed, the sheets pooled around you. your phone covered half your face, yet gepard couldn’t even find it in himself to complain because, from what he could see, the rest of you was bare, save for his coat blanketing your form.

the fur was tantalizingly draped over your shoulders, leaving him with a glimpse of skin that showcased proof of your... escapade the previous night. red marks dotted the crook between your neck and shoulders and your hair still appeared unkempt. the blue cape was spread to one side, a stark contrast against your sheets and the white of his jacket.

💬: “miss you”

gepard swallows, suddenly feeling a little too warm in his uniform. that’s all they were; a couple messages. but his heart betrayed his thoughts, beating too fast for his liking and sending his blood rushing to places he really doesn’t want it to be at while he was on duty.

should he scold you? no, he was a weak man when it came to you. he… liked the photo, after all, but he felt that he shouldn’t encourage you to keep teasing him either. the sight of you waiting—presenting yourself— for him in such a way charged him with a sense of affection and lust he felt almost guilty for having.

his mind wanders away from his initial contemplations. although his skills as an artist left much to be desired, he knows how to pleasure you, take you apart with his hands and yet also ground you with his touch. as much as he belongs to belobog, he belongs to you. he knows your likes, your dislikes, and everything that made the gallery that was you. he's memorized each crevice, dip, and line, having devoted himself to the art of knowing your every detail.

mentally, he slaps himself, placing his focus back on the present. qlipoth, help him. what was he to do with you? that photo might've just rewired him. its been several minutes and he still hasn't formulated a response to your messages. he can almost see the smug grin on your face, knowing that you flustered him. cheeky thing. with an exasperated (slightly fond) sigh, he types out a reply. too bad he just felt like such a fool for you sometimes. he'll get back at you one day.

(and if he saves your picture to a private album of his, no one needs to know.)

[pinkiemachine]

Hey Pinkie,

Could you give me the basic gist of the NTT Team Dynamics, like the different relationships within the team?

Sorry if i'm bombarding you with these asks.

Oh, not at all! I realise I mainly covered individual characters in my previous post, mainly to cut down on time, so I’m happy to flesh things out a bit more! (I’m happy any time someone asks about my work, really 😊)

Okay, so I briefly mentioned Tim and Steph’s relationship, and there’s a lengthier post I did a while back about them, so I’ll link that at the bottom of this post.

Then there’s Tim and Conner. This one’s fun, because sometimes they get along great—Tim has a rebellious side to him, and kind of a skater boy thing going on—but he was also raised by very conservative parents and has Batman for a mentor, and he’s smart enough to know that doing something stupid will lead to stupid consequences, so sometimes (a lot of times) he winds up becoming the Mom™️ of the group. And when that happens, he and Conner come into conflict. Thing is, Conner’s smart in his own ways too, so when he gets into trouble, he’s really good at getting out of trouble, and… he knows how to spin his ideas to convince Tim to go along with them. Basically, it’s like a constant game of “join the dark side, Anakin… we have cookies!” And Steph is usually the one holding the cookies. Then Tim comes to his senses, or Batman shows up, and suddenly he’s all “of course, I—a responsible leader of this team—would never even consider doing the immature thing—cough cough!” But they become good friends. They poke fun at one another a lot, throwing zingers, and they enjoy talking when they get the chance. They just find it easy to vibe with one another.

Unlike…

Conner and Cassie! Now, this is all based off of one comic panel, but I just latched onto this idea like a barnacle to the hull of a crusty ship. Cassie did initially have a crush on Conner when they first met, but that was short-lived because she quickly discovered how annoying Conner can be sometimes. He’s like that little brother who just shows up and—for no reason—starts poking you, flipping the light switch, making noises, and generally just being a pain. Cassie was raised alone with her mother, traveling a bunch, meeting kids from a lot of other cultures, so she knows how to get along with a lot of very different people… she’s still never met someone as annoying as Conner. Plus, her moral compass points toward: being kind to people, being respectful, trying NOT to be annoying. You can see how Conner might just be pushing her buttons in a very specific way when he starts acting a little too much like Lex, and gets carried away. They’re like a cat and a dog. Chasing each other. Screaming at each other. Tim has to intervene. Sigh. But when it counts, of course they’ll always be there for one another… just for no longer than 30 seconds…

Cassie and the other two girls. Now, Cass isn’t particularly older than them by much, but it’s mostly because of her knowledge and confidence mixed with her moral compass that she (generally) is kind of looked at like the leader of the three. But only so much. Again, they’re all about the same age, so it doesn’t feel like she’s the “mom” it’s more like they’re sisters, and she’s the oldest sister… so naturally, Steph intentionally doesn’t listen sometimes. She believes that she’s got enough street smarts of her own (plus Batman’s training) that she and Cassie are on equal footing, which can sometimes lead to arguments, because Cassie feels like her world traveling and being mentored by Wonder Woman gives her more experience than Steph, so… you could say there’s some tension there… Both of them have more experience on Earth than M’gann, so she tends to look up to both of them, and often turns to them for advice. Steph loves playing “mentor” but sometimes Cassie feels like she’s giving the wrong advice (her father being a supervillain doesn’t help Cassie’s opinion, but over the course of the show, we find out that a lot of the members have villainous parents, so it becomes a moot point eventually). Now, it’s not as though Cassie enjoys being in this position of contention. She can be plenty impulsive and adventurous and is a bit of a dork, but it’s funny the way hanging out with certain people can bring out a part of you that you didn’t even know you had. Steph is such a firecracker that it’s impossible for someone not to feel a little apprehensive about what she does and says, but after the girls get to know one another better, their relationship turns from sort of a competition, to more like “partners in crime” almost. Cassie remains the moooore level headed of the two, but yeah… they can get up to trouble if left unsupervised. But with M’gann, Cassie is very sympathetic. She’s traveled, she’s felt like an alien before, she’s been the only white girl in a room before, she gets how M’gann must be feeling. (In truth, she doesn’t quite fully grasp the specifics of her situation, but to be fair, M’gann didn’t tell everyone the specifics up front, so…) Anyway, M’gann appreciates how thoughtful Cassie can be, and often looks to her for advice, especially when it comes to…

Conner and M’gann! Alright, don’t go running for the hills just yet. I know that the Young Justice cartoon scared a lot of us, but trust me when I say that these two characters are not the same ones from that show. Yes, M’gann does see Conner as fitting into the “ideal human boyfriend” category that she’s seen in all those Earth TV shows, but that image usually comes crashing down the minute Conner opens his mouth. Now, they both kinda liked the look of each other the moment they met, but keep in mind, Conner has only actually been alive for about a year or so. Maybe a year and a half—two tops. So, he’s never been in love before. It was never taught to him. He’s just a big ball of raging hormones with no guidance! yaaaaaay… Don’t worry, nothing bad happens, but imagine a six-year-old’s approach to girls… girls he likes… that more or less sums up how Conner first approached things. Very blunt, very innocent, not knowing what’s considered “too forward” or “rude” so he makes a lot of critical errors at first, which he doesn’t realise are errors until he talks to the other guys. Overall, though, his confidence levels remain relatively high, so he plans on adjusting his approach and going in for round two. M’gann feels awkward about the whole situation, like “is this how Earth boys actually are in real life? Is this just a Kryptonian thing? Am I missing something?” She’s overanalysing the situation something awful, and she wonders if it feels wrong because of something she’s doing, or not doing, and she talks to the other girls about it… When Conner actually gets it through his head how to talk to girls, that’s when their relationship starts. He can be very rough and playful, like a big golden retriever, but he’s learned that he needs to be careful with someone like M’gann, who’s more of a sweet little bunny who gets really excited about things, like “Earth Cooking” and “Vending Machines.” The two of them don’t always understand Earth things, or customs, but they’re relieved that the other doesn’t, so they kind of come up with their own private jokes, and it’s really sweet. The great difference between the two is that: Conner is super confident a lot of the time, especially about who he is and where he’s going, but M’gann is exactly the opposite. Over time, he helps her uncover the things that matter most to her, and therefore helps her understand what sort of person she is and who she wants to become.

Conner and Kaldur. Naturally, Kaldur didn’t get close to anyone at first, but after that whole adventure… he and Conner have a very specific relationship. Ever see a cub or a kitten or a puppy trying to play with their mother’s ear or tail or something, but the mom’s just sitting there, looking tired? That’s kinda it. Kaldur finds Conner’s antics amusing, up until they become irresponsible, at which point he shifts into Mom Mode.™️ He and Tim kinda share the title of “Team Mom.” Or maybe one of them’s more like “Team Dad?” You decide. (If everyone starts acting irresponsibly, Kaldur is usually the last adult standing.) Point is, Kaldur is still a battle hardened warrior, and even though he’s learning how to be more expressive, he still thinks Conner can be a bit of a drama queen, and a little too… much… at times. They’re almost a little like Jack O’Niell and Teal’c from Stargate SG-1, if anyone’s seen. But they’re cool, Kaldur doesn’t ever get annoyed with Conner, he simply handles Conner.

In general, Kaldur still has a hard time getting really, really close with the others, mainly just having serious heart-to-hearts or observing their hobbies and interests, but if there was one person on the team I would say he’s close with, it’s Tim. Tim does his best to check in with him and be there for him, as the team’s leader, and they tend to have a lot of very long, very deep conversations. They often go back and forth about battle strategy, they share the title of “Team Mom” a lot, being the two most responsible members, they’re both smart, and they’re both depressed a lot.

(Lol, just had a thought. Kaldur and Steph = Tigress and Po from Kung Fu Panda 2. *Kaldur catches Steph and flips her back around as if she were made of paper* Steph: “Did you guys see that? It’s called being awesome.”)

Now, Steph is the most extroverted in the group. She’s the one who always breaks the ice, who has no problem jumping straight into the deep end, and is the most comfortable chillin’ with the guys. Cassie never really did the whole “hanging with the guys” thing growing up, it was mostly “all the neighbourhood kids or nothing,” so, like, sort of adjacent, but not quite the same thing. Then M’gann never really hung out with guys ever, so Steph is kinda alone on that one. She and Conner are a dangerous duo. They require at least two babysitters. Then, once Bart comes along (post memory wipe, that is) their duo of chaos becomes a trio. NEVER LEAVE THESE THREE ALONE EVER. Steph tries to get close to Kaldur, and tries to introduce him to certain fun things, but for a long while she just can’t understand why they aren’t clicking, and why he and Tim do it so easily. Then, she realises that what Kaldur values is genuine conversation and connection, which is harder for her, but they wind up sharing a few moments together that help them bond a bit more.

Now Bart. I saved him for last because it’s a little confusing having to talk about two different versions of him. Pre-memory wipe, Bart is afraid, anxious, and thinks like a little kid. Being trapped in a computer for a year tends to stunt you like that. So when he first arrives, after the NTT’s initial suspicion subsides, they kinda adopt him. He’s never had his own bedroom, or owned normal civilian clothes, or eaten anything besides rations, (bacon was an eye opener), so the team can’t help but feel bad for him, though Conner specifically tends to feel like he’s a little bit like dead weight at times during their journey through time, because he’s too afraid to actually do anything for much of it. Put simply, the main form of bonding that happens with them all on that adventure is: trauma bonding. But then, there’s post-memory wipe Bart. After the wipe, his personality changed. He still naturally feels disquieted and repelled by tech, but beyond that, he’s more cheerful, funny, always moving too fast for his own good, forgetful, but with a bit of an attitude when he feels like it. Especially when people give him “the look.” Something he noticed after the memory wipe. People who knew him before sometimes look at him like he’s a wounded puppy, and he hates it. This is what eventually leads him to want to regain his memories, but that’s a story for another time. Like mentioned earlier, he gets along a little too well with Conner and Stephanie—he can drive Tim up a wall with how much he doesn’t sit still, or listen, or just… do the thing he asked him to do twenty minutes ago! But Bart’s a good kid, Tim can’t stay frustrated with him forever. Kaldur has another child to reign in. Cassie takes on an almost “big sister” role for him, and M’gann loves testing out new Earth recipes on him, because he’ll eat anything.

Alright, I think that’s everyone. Please don’t hesitate to ask more questions! Always love getting to share!

Tim and Steph’s relationship 👇

[razorblade180]

Quality Time

Citlali:*reading* hm!!?

Aether:*casually walks in* Hello!

Citlali:…I’m still not used to this.

Aether:I can give your key back if you want.

Citlali:I didn’t say it was a bad thing to get used to. Anyways, let me guess, Ororon told you to swing by at a specific time?

Aether:You did give me a letter, but it’s a little hard to know your sleepy schedule. I wanted to hand you your birthday gift properly.

Citlali:*red* Oh you didn’t have to get me any-

Aether:*pulls out wine* Boom, Dandelion Wine from the best Mondstadt has to offer.

Citlali:I’m starting to think you see me as an alcoholic.

Aether: Heh, “starting to?”

Citlali:Hey! I drink a normal amount and when I feel like it!

Aether:So you don’t want th-

Citlali:*politely grabs it* It’s bad manners to refuse a gift.

Aether:Hehe. So, birthday girl, have anything you want to do today. My schedule is clear.

Citlali:I’m staying home. No offense but birthdays lose a bit of meaning when you’re my age. There’s nothing for an hold hang like me to do that I haven’t.

Aether:First, I’m older than you and I love my birthday. Don’t think about them all at once, but all the moments you had for the year.

Citlali:Well…I guess when you put it like that, there’s a lot to remember about this year.

Aether:Ending a war is a pretty big deal.

Citlali:Yeah but that’s a moment for everyone. I was referring to meeting someone who’s…rather interesting.

Aether:*red* Aww, thank you.

Citlali:I didn’t say it was- ugh, who am I kidding?

Aether:So, young lady, what are you up for? It’s your special day. I’ll listen to any request.

Citlali:…My social battery is pretty high today, so tolerating your antics wouldn’t be out of the question. I’m sure there’s plenty of light novels we could discuss. Plus…*shakes bottle* No way I’m finishing this alone.

Aether:So you want me to stay here with you all day?

Citlali:*red* Y-You said you were free? It doesn’t have to be until tomorrow or anything crazy. I…look, I want to talk to someone okay! You! I would like to just talk with you and I don’t know, not think about anything else.

Aether:*smiles* I’ll get the glasses. *walks to kitchen*

Citlali:You’re a real piece of work; ya know that? Don’t blame me if you get a bit drunk. If you can’t keep up, then tap out. Not everyone can handle their liquor like me.

xxxxxx

Citlali:*waking up* Uuuuugh, my head. *sits up* Mmmghggh, damn it. Seriously, what the heck is wrong with me!? After all of my bravado too. *looks left* What’s even the t-

Aether:*in the bed*Zzzzzzzz

………

Citlali:Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

Citlali:Wait! *looks down* My clothes are fine. Good! That’s good! Nothing happened! Makes sense. I probably got drunk before he did. He probably just brought me to bed. *pulls down cover*

Aether:*bruised up*

Citlali:WHAT DID I DO TO HIM!?

Several hours earlier

Aether:Please, Citlali, your grip! I’m not your pillow!

Citlali:Don’t leave. Stay the night with me~

Aether:Okay! But free my ribs.

Citlali:Pro-hic-mise first! Don’t leave me. I…wanna see you when I wake. I don’t want just the memories…

Aether:…I promise. I’ll be right here.

Citlali:*holds him close* Gooooood. You have no idea how much I…much I li..zzzzz

Aether:Why does she hug harder than Itto!?

[dcdreamblog]

Greetings. I’ll admit, I have no way of knowing for sure how much of what I’m about to ask would really be in your usual wheelhouse, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I could ask for information on the Teen Titans…or more specifically, the lineup featuring Dick Grayson (when he was still Robin and hadn’t yet become Nightwing), Starfire, Beast Boy, Raven, and Cyborg. You see, I’ve been a HUGE fan of this team ever since I saw the ‘dramatized retelling’ cartoon about them from the early 2000s as a child. And I’ve not only continued to remain a fan of such in the years since, but also worked to try to gain as much knowledge as I could through reading as many sources as I could find and making educated speculations from there to the best of my ability. However, in light of just how knowledgeable you appear to be, I was wondering if you could give an explanation on the history of that line-up, how accurate that 2000s ‘dramatized retelling’ cartoon was compared to the real thing, and what those five in particular are currently up to nowadays (up to and including their current relationship status if such isn’t too gossipy for you, as I’ve always felt that Starfire was a better endgame girlfriend for Nightwing than Barbara Gordon and am also a proud believer/supporter of Beast Boy and Raven as a couple (though I’m willing to be respectful and not push anything if reality doesn’t match up with my dreams), not to mention have great interest in the rumors I’ve heard about Cyborg and that friend of his named Sarah Simms who runs a social group for disabled kids)?

P.S: Apologies if I got overly rambly in this ask… :/

I'd love to tell you about the Titans but I think you may be falling into something of a common conspiracy theory. Because the Gotham tabloid often get this bee in their bonnets about Bruce Wayne secretly being the mysterious Batman, that of course leads them to bothering Wayne's adoptive children with his first ward, Dick Grayson assumed to be the first Robin and later Nightwing. As is shown by these conspiracy theories (like the equally popular theory that Superman is secretly Daily Planet reporter and Lois Lane's husband Clark Kent) our understanding of who our costumed protectors seem to be in their private lives is seldom as straightforward as we think. This of course goes the same for businesswoman Barbara Gordon who seems to get sucked into this quagmire by virtue of being the daughter of beloved Gotham police commissioner James Gordon. That being SAID, and with groundwork laid, let's talk about the "New Titans"

(The cover of a comic album produced by Detective Comics. Detective has tried to do this "real superheroes as comic stars" thing a few times and it's never been very popular. No wonder they're #4)

(A promotional image of Cartoon Network's "Teen Titans" animated series) While I do enjoy what was done with this series, a lot of the same creatives who worked on the classic MAU cartoons also worked on this. It's not what I would call a first person historical document. First of all, obviously it's line up isn't fully correct. Showing only Robin, Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Raven as the "main team" whereas the team's actual membership in that era included the first Kid Flash and Wonder Girl. The cartoon also treats this team as the first assemblage of the Titans, when that is also not true in a historical sense. Robin specifically had been a member of said original Titans alongside Kid Flash, Wonder Girl, Aqualad and Speedy. (Who all appeared in the series, save Wonder Girl for some odd reason) I do find it amusing that the show was never able to show Robin without his mask on, because obviously the creative team couldn't know who Robin was beneath his mask whereas the personal details of the other Titans have become at least partially historical record. Again conspiracy theorists love to claim the show contains hidden clues pointing toward the Bat-Wayne theory but I roll my eyes at that as much as I roll my eyes at it anywhere it pops up. (Some particular wingnuts have even chosen to insist that the invented character "Red X" is meant to map onto Wayne's deceased second son, Jason Todd. Which is a theory that is well enough buried simply for being in such poor taste) Most of the stories used in the series are either partially or fully invented, and even what events ARE shown that have a foot in truth are shown DRASTICALLY out of order. Sometimes related to censorship, such as real life mercenary and contract killer Slade Wilson AKA Deathstroke being renamed to simply "Slade" and having his profession softened for television. The Doom Patrol is shown as originally captives of the Brotherhood of Evil, whereas in reality during the show's run the entire team save for Beast Boy himself was assumed KIA after their confrontation with the Brotherhood outside Four Heroes, Maine. They wouldn't be fully reunited with Beast Boy until years after the show's conclusion. I was too young to remember this but I've read anecdotes about the Markovian people lodging protest about American actress Ashley Johnson being cast to play Terra, when the real life Terra was obviously Markovian just by her accent. As well as the softening of her portrayal from a knowing and malevolent traitor to the team rather than a misunderstood victim of Slade's manipulations. There was a short lawsuit involving Neil Richards, aka fashion designer "The Mad Mod" due to his portrayal on the show. while Richards did indeed conduct some rather odd criminal activities, he had, by the time of the show's airing served his time and had founded the now famous "Mad Mod" fashion empire. The suit was settled out of court by Richards who made the public statement "I don't want to be the bad guy, attacking the children's favorite cartoons. I just don't want this all to be summoned on top of me again." The only note he asked of the production is that the episodes never speak his legal name. Though the production went the extra mile of changing the character's appearance for the real Mod's famous ginger bob and green smoking jacket to a crimson bowl cut and union jack coat. As for the modern "fates" of these five, they're all rather simple I'm glad to say. All five are still active superheroes, still close friends and still highly trusted members of the superhero community. As for their romantic entanglements, I couldn't comment on that. Not only am I historian, not a gossip columnist but the personal lives of superheroes are kept rather close to the chest. For the most prominent reason that any public knowledge of their romantic attachments would place those people at terrible risk.