#it just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me like at all

[reignpage]

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Synopsis: in which the jjk men are your roommates in a modern au and you've just watched a horror movie Warnings: cursing, some gory descriptions of movie scenes, mostly fluff and crack, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 3.2k

Gojo:

He yelps, hands flying. 

“That’s the third jumpscare in five minutes, why do they hate us?”

You laugh, popping some popcorn in your mouth. He’s got the bowl in his lap as you two share a blanket, thighs pressed together, and his arm’s strung at the back of the sofa. Admittedly, you’re sharing a moment that is way too intimate for roommates, but neither of you point it out.

The movie is terrifying. Somehow, everything looks real, and the plot is so captivating you genuinely feel like you’re a character being chased by the slasher. It sets an odd feeling of dread in your stomach. 

Throwing a popcorn in the air, he catches it perfectly and grins at you, expecting praise. You roll your eyes and bury yourself deeper under the blanket. Not even he can distract you from the allure of the horror movie. 

Eventually, the movie ends, and your hands are still shaking. Beside you, Satoru yawns with a stretch, shirt riding up to reveal his hard abs. You poke it. He writhes. 

“Hey! Keep your hands off the merchandise.”

Giggling, you mess up his hair and bid him goodnight. He grumbles complaints but otherwise returns to his room too, a soft smile of his lips as he waves dramatically.

There are lots of shadows in your room. You never noticed it before; it’s all you can see now. Your eyes dart from surface to surface, frantically as if monsters would genuinely pop out. It’s ridiculous. You’re a grown adult. 

Grabbing your phone, you text your roommate. You ask if you can sleep in his room tonight. Through the wall you hear a muffled yell. Something that sounds oddly like, ‘hell yeah’.

Half expecting a flirty message, you’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t tease you too much and says yes. 

You don’t waste any time. 

Rushing to his room, you don’t need to knock because somehow, he senses you and opens the door, a goofy smile on his lips. 

“I’ve been waiting for my moment to shine,” he admits. “I knew you’d crawl into my bed sooner than later.”

You shove at his chest and roll your eyes at his exaggerated moan of pain. Climbing into bed, you make yourself comfortable, plumping up a pillow. He follows right behind you, jumping on the bed and laughing as you both bounce. 

“Don’t be such a child, Satoru.”

He makes a noise of indignation. “Says the scaredy cat next to me?”

The light’s off and your eyes have adjusted. And despite his presence, you don’t feel safe enough to sleep. There are still shadows and faint noises. You’re painfully aware of every creak, every gust of wind, and every thrum of car engines in the street. 

“Still can’t sleep, roomie?” Satoru whispers. He’s a lot closer than you realise but his warm breath does ease your anxiety a little. 

Shuffling, you turn to face him. “Don’t mention this in the morning.”

Without waiting for a response, you throw an arm and a leg over him, resting your head on his chest. He lays deathly still, tense for a second but then relaxes and wraps an arm around you too. 

“I totally will, y’know that, right?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

He lands a wet kiss atop your head and rubs your back, cooing like a mother. With a feminine voice, his final words are, “Sleep well, my little angelkins.”

How your eyes haven’t gotten permanently stuck in a rolling position you don’t know. 

Geto:

Nodding his head, he studies the screen with mild interest. He isn’t really a movie person, but he never passes up these nights with you. Having seen stellar reviews of this new horror movie, you were excited to watch it with Suguru, hoping to see him be startled for once. 

He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even wince. 

Unlike you. 

Not much of a talker, he doesn’t reply to your frantic complaints about how the characters need to stop saying ‘let’s split up’. Legs crossed, he drums a finger against his lips, watching you more than the screen, though you don’t notice. 

He can see the way you’re trembling, so very sensitive to every noise and movement. He’s finding this so terribly amusing, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

Once the movie ends, you part ways — Suguru with his hands in his hoodie pockets, humming, and you with your eyes flitting to the doors and windows. 

“Goodnight, pretty,” he says.

You mutter it back. 

As soon as you lock your door, you rush to the window of your room, pulling at it to ensure it’s securely locked. Satisfied, you sit on your bed eyeing the damn thing. What if you loosened it?

You check again, pulling harder and longer this time. It rattles loudly. Your phone pings.

Suguru’s asking what all the noise is. You explain and his replies only set you even more on edge. He reminds you to check under your bed and when you glance down at it you see only darkness in the gap. A gap big enough for a man to hide under.

Just as soon as he gives you the go-ahead, you run to his room, pushing the door open and jumping into bed, knees knocking into his back. He groans and you pat him apologetically. 

“You’re really scared, aren’t you,” he marvels. He’s still wearing his hoodie; it is cold tonight. You clutch it and hold him tightly. His comforting smell eases your nerves, and you let go of the tension in your shoulders just a little. “Don’t worry, pretty. I got you.”

“Thanks, Suguru,” you mumble, eyes flickering shut. 

He sighs, arm winding around his front to hold your hand which rests on his side. “What are friends for?”

Fast asleep already, you don’t hear the bitter tone of his words.

Choso:

Your friend had recommended a movie they said kept them up all night. Thinking you wouldn’t be bothered, you set it up for movie night with Choso. Even if it doesn’t scare you, it will scare him. And that’s even better. 

Very quickly, not even five minutes in, he’s clinging to your side. One hand holds yours, squeezing at every jumpscare whilst the other rests on your bare knee. You’re only wearing shorts, and you knew your roommate would jump at the chance to cop a feel. Well, you don’t mind. 

His fingers press into the fat of your thigh, but he’s not even looking at you. Choso’s genuinely captivated by the movie, gasping and grimacing like he’s a director’s dream audience. Those fingers dance and drum and rise on your leg. You smack it every time he goes too high. 

He pouts when you do.

When the movie finishes, you ruffle his hair. It’s still wet from his shower, and he hadn’t tied it up into his typical pigtails. Looking up at you, he gives you puppy eyes and before he can ask, you give him a playful ‘sweet dreams, Choso’ before you disappear into your room. 

Just as the door clicks shut, he texts you. 

He’s practically begging for you to grant him mercy, to come and sleep in his bed. Sighing, you agree, knowing full well his hands will wander. But fine. It’s not like you hate it. 

Walking into his room, you sigh when you see he’s got a lamp on and his duvet is halfway down his body, purposefully, you’re willing to bet, if the fact that he had stripped himself of his shirt is anything to go by. 

“Choso, tell me you didn’t take off your shirt because I was coming.” You sigh, exasperated. 

Lying there with an innocent smile, he blinks up at you. “I wouldn’t.”

Oh, but he totally would, the mischievous little thing. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you climb into bed with him regardless, falling down with a huff. Just as your head hits the pillows, he’s scooping you up and tangling his limbs with yours. Ignoring your groans, he lays his head on your chest, nuzzling there with a contented hum. 

“Goodnight!”

“Don’t ‘goodnight’ me, Choso. Get off,” you demand. 

His reply?

To hold you tighter. 

You can’t fight back so you let him have this victory. Just this once. Even when a hand creeps under your shirt to rest on your ribcage, you don’t say a word. He’s such a pain in the ass but he’s an adorable pain in the ass. 

However, when his hand dares creep up a little higher, you smack your head against his. “Don’t you dare or else I’m going back to my own room.”

He mumbles into your chest, “Meanie.”

Days later, when you bring up his sensitivity to horror movies to his little brother, Yuji, the boy can only look confused, head tilting at you. 

“But my big bro loves horror movies?”

The bastard got you.

Toji:

You scream for the fifth time.

“Oh my god! Why am I seeing his literal intestines?”

Your roommate snorts. “You’ll scream at the drop of a fucking pin.”

He had chosen the vilest snuff film to ever exist on the planet. That’s probably not even an exaggeration. Every scene is full of blood and guts and dead bodies. You feel like you’re going to throw up. He, on the other hand, is laughing like he’s watching a comedy instead. 

“Stop glaring at me. Y’r missing the best bits,” he says. The ‘best bits’ in question is someone getting their head chopped off. Fed up, you excuse yourself. “Oh, come on. ’s not that bad.”

You flip him off. 

Hours later, you know he’s in bed. You are too. But you aren’t anywhere near sleepy. In fact, you’re wide awake. 

You can’t get the sight of pools of blood out of your mind. It’s all you can see. That and brain chunks. You’re definitely going to throw up. Shoving the covers off you text him a complaint. His replies only piss you off further. 

Tomorrow you’re going to hide his car keys. 

Somewhere in the apartment, you hear a clatter. You’re sure of it. There was absolutely a noise. Jolting upright, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Without waiting for another sign, you make a run for it, bolting to his room. 

After knocking a couple times, he opens the door with a deadpan look. It screams, ‘are you fucking serious?’

And you are. You absolutely are serious. Seeing that pathetic look on your face, he rolls his eyes with a groan lets you in. 

“How old are ya again?”

Shaking, you swear, “I heard a noise. Like an actual noise.”

“So? If there was a killer, ya totally should do the right thing and sacrifice yourself. For the betterment of me, of course.”

You shove at him. “You’re such a prick.”

He rakes a hand through his hair and it’s only now that you realise, he’s just in boxers. His shoulders are broad, abs and arms flexing with the movement and you feel your mouth water at the trail of hair that disappears into his underwear. You’re practically drooling at the sight of his thick thighs, bare and so muscular. 

“Stop eye-fucking me and get to sleep, brat.”

You stop staring. 

Lying side by side, you look up at the ceiling, hands drumming on your stomach. It’s hard to ignore the warmth he’s emanating and the way his masculine scent is filling your nose. 

“Be honest, Fushiguro.” At the sound of your voice, he groans. “You chose that movie to fuck with me, didn’t you?”

“Go to fucking sleep or I’m kicking your dumb ass out.”

You prod his bicep, mostly for your own benefit. “Just tell me the truth. I won’t get mad.”

Swatting your hand away, he growls, “No, I fucking didn’t. Happy now?”

You nod and let out a breath, sinking into the mattress and feeling ready to accept sleep. That is, until he opens his big fat mouth and you’re getting riled up all over again. 

“I totally did, actually.”

“I knew it!”

Nanami:

This was your own fault. 

You chose a stupid horror movie just because it was trending. Now, you’re practically on Kento’s lap, burying your face into his neck at even the mildest of scenes. He doesn’t complain. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer another film? It’s not too late to change,” he kindly offers.

Stubbornly, you shake your head. “No. Let’s finish this.”

Pushing his glasses up, he doesn’t fight you. He himself isn’t a fan of horror movies but he isn’t particularly vulnerable to jumpscares. Kento has always been a rational man, after all. He knows the blood is fake, he can tell when a shot is setting up for a plot twist, and he can already tell who will survive in the end. 

Which is why he makes the perfect movie buddy — he grounds you. His firm hand rubs soothingly on your back, muttering against your head when the scary scenes are done, and he even warns you when he senses another one building. 

He’s always so sweet and so supportive, you never dispute it when your friends joke that he’s practically your boyfriend. And sure, you would absolutely love it if he was, but maybe every kind act is just a reflection of who he is, rather than how he feels about you.

The movie ends and you’re left reeling.

“I can’t believe they killed everyone but just that one girl. She did nothing the entire time!”

Kento chuckles, folding up the blanket. “I believe she is, what they call, ‘the final girl’. So, I suppose she’s already served her purpose by existing.”

You offer to tidy up too, but he shoos you away, reminding you that it’s already late and you have lots to do the next day. With an appreciative smile, you give him a goodnight hug like you do every night and return to your room. 

You don’t stay there for long. 

Unable to stop ruminating on it, you text Kento to ask if the front door’s locked. He says it is. It’s his routine to double check and he does it without failure every night, but you just can’t help but worry it isn’t. Eventually, the fear that it might not be locked, or that it somehow became unlocked, won over you. 

There’s no way you’re going to check yourself. You ask Kento if you can sleep in his room and of course he doesn’t say no. 

His bedside lamp is on, and he’s sat up, reading a book. He gives you a warm smile and pats the bed. You’re a little disappointed he’s fully clothed but you keep that to yourself. 

Once beside him, you lie there, staring up at his face. He isn’t the least bit bothered by the terrifying movie; none would be able to tell he even watched one. Nanami Kento is a rock. Solid and unyielding. 

“Just let me finish this chapter and I’ll turn the light off,” he says. 

You shake your head. “It’s okay. Read as long as you want. Actually, do you mind reading to me? Your voice is so soothing, and I don’t think I can fall asleep otherwise.”

Gentle eyes fall on you and when something soft passes through his eyes, he smiles faintly, the golden flow of his lamp bringing out his youth. And he begins reading out every word on his page, low voice filling the room. 

You can’t recall if you fell asleep three pages later or two whole chapters later, but you do, movie long forgotten. 

Sukuna:

You’re onto him. 

The devil incarnate picked a stupidly gory horror movie. It’s so ridiculous, in fact, you almost mistook it for satire. But it isn’t. He’s trying to make you crack, to watch you squirm because apparently, he has nothing better to do. 

When the seventh jumpscare comes and you don’t flinch, he scoffs. “You watched this shit before?”

“No,” you say.

With thirty minutes still left, he turns the TV off and grumbles as he disappears into his room, the door slamming particularly loud. You sigh. He is so predictable. Truth is, the movie did scare you a little, but not enough to lose this little game you’ve been playing with him. 

At a leisurely pace, you go over your routine, humming a tune as he texts you. The man is always so angry. He really should get laid or something. Better yet, he should actually murder someone like his nature dictates. Maybe then he’ll get off your ass. 

When he threateningly texts that he’s coming to you, you can only pinch your nose bridge and open the door before he kicks it down. What you see on the other side only gives you a bigger headache — he’s only in boxers, muscular body on show, his tattoos highlighting every ridge. 

He pushes past you and gets himself settled into bed, shoving your plushie off the bed and it rolls by your feet. You pick it up and dust it off, placing it your desk chair instead, knowing he’ll just kick it off, or worse, if you place it back on the bed. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” he orders, one arm bent behind his head and the other lying straight across your pillow. 

You roll your eyes and climb in despite his stupid attitude. Trying to move his arm, you fail spectacularly; it doesn’t even move an inch. The thing is heavy as hell and his smug ass face knows it. He grunts though when your head falls onto it with more force than necessary. 

You turn your bedside lamp off. 

Encased in darkness, you can only do your best to ignore his presence, with very little success. He’s more on your side than his and he radiates heat like a furnace. The feeling of his hard body against your sides is doing nothing but distract you from seeking sleep. 

You really shouldn’t let him get away with his shit. 

“You call me the pyscho but you didn’t even blink at all that fucking bullshit,” he snarls, breaking the dull silence.

“It really wasn’t that scary, Sukuna.”

That arm you’re resting on curls, wrapping around your head until you’re being held against his chest in a headlock. He whispers against your ear, squeezing threateningly and growling, “You aren’t scared of me?”

You know you should be. He’s proven time and time again there are no lengths he wouldn’t go to prove a point. You’ve seen firsthand the destruction he can cause, the pain he can inflict, and his devil may care attitude. 

He’s a loose cannon. 

“Just go to sleep, weirdo,” you reply, smacking his forearm. 

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. You feel it rumble under your head, vibrations reaching your own chest and your eyes flutter shut. 

“You’re lucky you’re fucking adorable, you little brat.”

His threats always fall on deaf ears with you; they no longer hold any weight. Not since you’ve seen all the ways he’d go above and beyond for you. In his own freaky way, he’s shown he cares many times. You can’t possibly be scared of someone who feels as soft as he does.

You fall asleep in his arms, a ghost of something soft grazing your cheek.

[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.

[jadeshifting]

— SCRIPTING YOUR FAMILY. ( i swear it can work even if they’re not dead )

　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　

— DISCLAIMER. script what you want !! this isn’t judgement or an attempt to convince you of anything. i still have ded family in some realities, don’t worry :^)

alright, so a lot of shifters skip right to scripting their DR families straight into the afterlife. gone, nonexistent, dead and buried. this is for a myriad of reasons, though for me and everyone i know, it has a lot to do with backstory, or the idea that family ties are going to cramp our style or get in the way of our dream life and the plot. but, for anyone who’s interested, let’s flip the script (pun intended) and talk about why creating an original, unique family for your desired reality can actually make your experience richer, more meaningful, and a whole lot more fun !!

WHY KEEP THE FAMILY DRAMA?

first off, let’s address the elephant in the room: family can be a lot. but scripting them out entirely can be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater !! there’s tons of potential to consider there. a family offers plenty of opportunities to add depth, lore, and a whole bunch of emotional layers to your DR. think about it—what’s a life without a little family drama, a bit of cozy love, or even a quirky aunt who always brings the laughs? it doesn’t have to be a big, happy family—it can be whatever you feel like you need, whatever fits

HOW TO BUILD YOUR DR FAMILY

　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　

— SIZE MATTERS ( but not really ) .　　. 　 ˚　. when scripting your DR family, start with size. do you want a big, loud, chaotic family with siblings running around, or something closer to a small, tight-knit crew? maybe you’re an only child who’s the apple of your parents’ eyes, or perhaps you’re in the middle of a bustling household where everyone’s got a role to play. there’s no right or wrong—just what feels right for you, and what you feel like you need in that specific DR

— CHOOSE YOUR ROLES .　　. 　 ˚　. who’s in your family? a loving, supportive mom who’s your biggest cheerleader? a cool dad who’s kind of your best friend? maybe a set of grandparents who tell you the most insane stories about their youth, or a mouthy sibling who keeps you on your toes. think about the roles that would enrich your life in your DR. remember, these people are there to support your life, not unnecessarily complicate it

— CONNECTIONS .　　. 　 ˚　. now, here’s where it gets fun (in my opinion): your relationships. are you super close with your mom, the kind of close where you can endlessly gossip and have deep life talks? is your dad the type to give you space but always manages to have your back when it counts? maybe you have an insane sibling rivalry that spans over a decade. the relationships you script can add so much flavor to your DR—it’s all about creating connections that resonate with you, and support you in all the ways you want to be supported

FITTING INTO THE LORE ( making it make sense )

if your DR has a specific lore or world-building element ( Hogwarts, Marvel, etc. you know ), weave your family into it !! maybe your mom’s a legendary witch, or your dad’s a top Auror. perhaps your family runs a magical bakery, or you’re part of an ancient lineage with a complex magical or academic heritage. the point is, your family should feel at home in your DR, adding to the story rather than feeling like an afterthought that detracts from it

SOME IDEAS FOR YOUR DR FAMILY

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( just to get you started )

— MAGICAL LINEAGE .　　. 　 ˚　. your family has a rich history tied to your DR’s lore—maybe you’re descendants of a powerful wizard, or you’ve got a long-standing feud with another powerful family. drama

— ECCENTRIC GROUP .　　. 　 ˚　. a family full of eccentric or seemingly ridiculous people—a dad who invents magical gadgets, a mom who’s an expert potion maker, siblings who are always concocting some mischievous or downright strange plans

— TIGHT-KNIT TEAM .　　. 　 ˚　. quiet and likely unassuming—just a small, close family who’s been through everything together together. you lot might not be flashy, but their love and support are solid and you know you can always count on them

— CHAOTIC CLAN .　　. 　 ˚　. a massive, bustling family where everyone’s got their own unique role. maybe you’ve got siblings with vastly different personalities, parents that always have something insane to say, or aunts and uncles hailing from faraway places. family gatherings are always an ordeal

DON’T STRESS THE DETAILS

here’s the deal: scripting your DR family is about enhancing your experience, not stressing you out or detracting from all the things you wanna do. whether you want to create a sprawling family tree or just script a few key members, it’s all up to you. and remember—at the end of the day, your DR is personal to you. it’s about what makes you feel connected, supported, and ready to dive into the adventure of a lifetime

so, build that dream family !! whether they’re magical, mundane, or somewhere in between, totally supportive or bringing never-ending drama to spice things up, at the end of the day they’re there to add richness and depth to your DR. and trust me, it’ll make your journey all the more special if you let it !!

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[777bae]

PERFECT IMPERFECTIONS LUKE HUGHES

Summary :: You finally open up to Luke about a long-standing insecurity of yours

Warnings :: Insecurities (dark circles)

Word count :: 1.4k

The evening has a quiet, gentle rhythm to it, a calmness that feels almost sacred. The kind of quiet that can only come from being comfortably wrapped in the presence of someone you love, knowing that the world outside can wait for a while. You and Luke are on the couch, the soft light from the lamp beside you casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The glow dances across his face as he scrolls through his phone, the familiar sounds of his movements grounding you in the present. You’ve always loved these quiet moments with him—when nothing else matters but the fact that you’re together.

But tonight, something’s different. The sense of peace you usually feel when you’re near him is heavy, weighed down by an insecurity that’s been gnawing at you all day. You can feel it pressing on your chest, slowly tightening with every passing second, even though you’re trying your best to push it away.

You’ve always had these dark circles. As long as you can remember, they’ve been there. When you were a little girl, you’d stare at your reflection and wonder why your face looked so tired, even when you hadn’t done anything to earn that exhaustion. As you grew older, it became something you learned to live with—something you tried to hide, tried to mask. No matter how much sleep you got, no matter how many “miracle” creams or makeup techniques you tried, those shadows under your eyes were always there. They became a constant companion, something you never quite got used to, but had learned to accept.

And yet tonight, they feel more pronounced than ever. Maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s built up over the last few weeks—too many late nights and early mornings, trying to balance everything, trying to keep it all together. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been staring at your face in the mirror all day, looking for signs of something different, something better, and all you’ve found is the same tired reflection you’ve always seen. Your eyes look heavy. You look drained. Like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it’s written all over your face.

As you sit beside Luke, curled up on the couch, you find yourself unconsciously shrinking away from him, trying to hide the way you feel inside. You pull your knees closer to your chest, folding in on yourself as if to protect the parts of you that are exposed—the parts of you you wish you could change. You try to make yourself small, hoping he won’t notice. But Luke, being Luke, notices everything. He always does.

“Hey,” he says gently, his voice a soft anchor in the quiet of the room. He looks over at you, his gaze immediately softening as he notices your change in posture. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet.”

You try to offer him a smile, but it’s thin, insincere. It feels like a mask that doesn’t quite fit. You don’t want to burden him with your feelings, don’t want to sound trivial, but the words escape your lips before you can stop them.

“I’m just… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about my dark circles,” you admit, the words hanging in the air between you, heavier than you’d intended. “I’ve always had them, you know? No matter how much sleep I get, no matter how much I try to fix them, they’re always there. And today, I just… I don’t know. I feel like they’re all anyone would notice when they look at me.”

The vulnerability in your voice surprises even you, and you immediately feel a wave of embarrassment, as though admitting this out loud somehow makes it worse. You brace yourself for the usual reassurance—the empty kind of comfort people often give when they want to make you feel better but don’t truly understand what’s going on inside. You’re so used to hearing it, to hearing people say, “It doesn’t matter to me,” or “You’re beautiful no matter what.” But you’ve always wondered if they mean it. If they can really see you, see the parts of you that feel broken, and still love you just the same.

Luke doesn’t say anything right away. His gaze softens, though, and you can feel his presence shift. It’s almost as if he’s studying you, trying to understand the quiet storm brewing behind your eyes. He moves a little closer, his body turning toward yours. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing over your arm, sending a ripple of warmth through you. But it’s not just the touch. It’s the way he looks at you—as if he’s trying to read every part of you, to reach the parts of you that you don’t even know how to express.

“Let me see you,” he says softly, his voice low but firm with the kind of gentleness you’ve always known him for. He doesn’t push you, doesn’t force you to explain yourself, but his words are a quiet invitation. An invitation to be seen, to be understood. “Look at me, babe.”

You hesitate, unsure if you’re ready to meet his gaze, unsure if you’re ready to let him see all the insecurity swirling inside of you. But when you do, when your eyes finally meet his, something shifts. There’s no judgment there. Only love. Only understanding.

“Those dark circles, the ones you think make you less beautiful? They don’t make you less, anything,” he says, his voice unwavering. “They’ve always been a part of you. And honestly?” He smiles gently, the kind of smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ve always loved them. I think they’re beautiful.”

You blink, your breath catching in your throat as you try to process what he’s just said. “What?” you ask, your voice a mixture of disbelief and surprise. “But they—”

“They’re a part of you,” Luke interrupts, his hands now gently cradling your face, his thumb sweeping softly across your cheek, where those dark circles sit. “They tell a story. A story of you—of everything you do, everything you are. They show your strength, your effort, your heart. They’re not flaws. They’re part of what makes you, you. And I think that’s beautiful.”

His words are simple, but they sink deep. So deep, in fact, that you feel a tear slip down your cheek before you even realize it. You hadn’t even known you were holding it in, but the floodgates open, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the wave of emotion rushing through you. You’ve never heard someone speak to you this way before, never felt so seen in your entire life. It’s as if the parts of you that you’ve always hated, the parts of you you’ve always tried to hide, are suddenly being accepted without question, without hesitation.

Luke’s hands move to cup your face more securely, his eyes never leaving yours, and his forehead presses against yours, as if grounding you in his love, in his belief in you.

“I love you. And I don’t just love you despite those dark circles. I love you because of them. They’re a part of your story, and they make you, you. And there is nothing in this world that I would change about you.”

The warmth in his words wraps around you like a blanket, melting away the harsh edges of your insecurities, leaving behind only peace. You close your eyes for a moment, taking in his words, letting them sink in. When you open them again, you feel lighter, freer, like a weight has been lifted from your chest.

Luke leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead in the softest kiss, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. You let out a breath, a shaky laugh escaping your lips as you finally feel the truth of his words sink deep into your bones.

And in that moment, with his hands gently cradling your face, his heart open and steady, you realize something profound. The dark circles under your eyes, the tiredness that’s always been with you—they no longer feel like something to hide. They’re not a sign of something broken or wrong. They’re a sign of your resilience, your humanity, your capacity to love and work and care.

And Luke loves them. He loves all of you, dark circles and all. And for the first time, you can finally say that you love them, too.

[wendichester]

Hii sweetheart ✨🥺 I wanna request Dean with a fem!reader who can communicate and sense ghosts and other spiritual beings. And she was in an abusive relationship so she prefers spiritual beings over humans, because of that relationship.

°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ghost whisperer,

summary. not all humans are bad, but ghosts are still your comfort.

pairing. dean winchester x whisperer!reader

wordcount. 675

notes. thank you so much for requesting, hun. hope you like it ehe 🩷

The old Victorian house is dark and silent, the air thick with a chill that has nothing to do with the weather outside. Dean moves ahead, flashlight in one hand, shotgun in the other, while you linger near the entryway.

“Anything?” Dean asks, his voice low but steady.

You close your eyes, letting the cold prickle against your skin as you open yourself up. It doesn’t take long. A faint whisper brushes past your ear, followed by the soft sound of a child’s laughter echoing through the hallway.

“They’re here,” you murmur, your voice soft. “Two of them. A little boy and his mother. They’re not malicious, just... lost.”

Dean glances back at you, his sharp green eyes softening for a moment. “You sure about that?”

You nod, stepping closer to him. “They’re scared. Confused. Probably didn’t even realize they were gone.”

Dean watches as you move toward the staircase, your movements confident and purposeful. He knows this is your element. You’ve always been more comfortable with the spirits than with the living.

He follows you up the creaking stairs, his grip tightening on the shotgun. “You know, most people would be freaked out by the idea of talking to ghosts.”

You shrug, glancing back at him with a faint smile. “Most people haven’t been hurt by humans the way I have.”

Dean stops in his tracks, his jaw tightening. You didn’t say it to provoke a reaction—it’s just the truth. But he hates hearing it, hates knowing that someone out there hurt you so badly that you now find solace in the company of the dead.

“I get it,” he says quietly, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You pause at the top of the stairs, turning to look at him. “Do you?”

He nods, his expression unreadable. “I’ve seen a lot of bad in people. Hell, I’ve been some of that bad. So, yeah. I get it.”

Something in his tone makes your chest tighten. You want to respond, but a faint tug at your senses pulls your focus.

“They’re upstairs,” you say, turning toward the end of the hallway.

Dean follows without another word, his presence steady and grounding behind you.

When you reach the room, the air grows colder. The boy is sitting by the window, his translucent form barely visible in the moonlight. His mother stands protectively behind him, her gaze wary but not unkind.

“Hey,” you whisper, crouching down to their level. “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”

The boy looks at you with wide eyes, and for a moment, it feels like the three of you are the only ones in the world. Dean stands silently behind you, watching as you coax the spirits into letting go, your voice calm and soothing.

When they finally disappear in a shimmer of light, you exhale, leaning back against the wall.

“You’re amazing at that,” Dean says after a moment, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You glance up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It's not a big deal.”

Dean steps closer, crouching in front of you so you’re at eye level. “Maybe. But you’re still here. Still trying, even after everything. That’s what makes you amazing.”

The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. “Dean…”

He shakes his head, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I mean it. You don’t have to trust people. You don’t even have to trust me. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m sticking around, no matter what.”

His words settle in your chest, warm and unfamiliar. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thanks.”

He smiles, standing and holding out a hand to help you up. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I think we’ve done enough ghost whispering for one night.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. And as you walk out of the house together, you can’t help but think that if you're ever trusting another person again, Dean would be the right one.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine

[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 :)

[trevorsgodmother]

𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓭 (M.S 🌧/☁️)

☞ Masterlist Warnings: Angst, swearing, PERIOD PAINNNN 😍, crying, sobbing, did I mention pain? POV: First person (reader) Summary: It's that time of month! Excruciating pain! IT FUCKING HURTS, and ur boyfy Matty B helps comfort you 🥰

We're laying down in his bedroom, Matt hugging me from behind, breathing quietly in my ear. He's sound asleep, dead to the world around him, while I'm fading in and out of a light doze.

His bedroom door opens, and in comes his older brother Nick. The light flicks on, interrupting the somewhat comforting darkness of the room. I squint, suddenly blinded.   "Hm?" "Sorry to wake you up sleepyhead, I was just gonna see if Matt was awake" Nick says, walking in further. I shake my head to tell him that he's not, and he nods. "Turn the light off" I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut.

Nick sighs in amusement, turning it off. "All three of you are like vampires, I swear." He chuckles, referring to me and his two brothers. A wave of pain crashes into my abdomen, making me flinch. Nick's smile wavers. "Hey, you ok?" I nod, burrowing further down into the soft blankets. “Hurts” Nick nods sympathetically. “Do you need more painkillers?” I shake my head because I’d already taken some a few hours ago.

We talk for a few more minutes, but it’s mostly him yapping to distract me while I fail to get comfortable (I need Nick as my bestie so bad).

I keep shifting against Matt, and he groans in his sleep, getting slightly roused (not aroused SLUTS). He, half-asleep, clamps a hand down HARD on my stomach, pulling me backwards into him so I stop moving around. I wince, and Nick carefully pries Matt’s hand off, muttering under his breath about how his brother doesn’t know personal space.

“That idiot. He has no sense of his surroundings when he’s asleep.” I chuckle a little. “Yea, he moves around a lot.” Nick softly starts rubbing my stomach, trying to soothe the cramps. His palm is warm. "How's that feel..? Am I helping?" He asked. He was worried that nothing was working to make the pain go away. "Yea, thanks but it still-" I wince again. Because of our murmuring and my restlessness, Matt wakes up.

He slowly opens his eyes and groans, looking over at us two. "What's going on...?" He questioned, voice still groggy with sleep. "She's hurting a lot." Nick says, looking worried "And your dumbass kept hitting her in your sleep." Matt looks confused for a moment, before glancing down at where his arm is pushed off my stomach, and grimaces.

"Shit- sorry babe. I didn't realize I was doing that.." He looks guilty for his unconscious actions. I shake my head, reassuring him. "It's ok, you didn't do much. It's killing me though" Matt looked even more worried then, and he gently placed his hand on my stomach, feeling how much it hurt for himself. "God.. it feels like your stomach is on fire.. and the pain killers aren't doing anything?" He questioned, gently rubbing my stomach just like Nick had been doing. I shake my head, feeling more waves of pain wash over me.

It was too much. Nick leaves to make some tea, and my eyes fill with tears. Matt's widen, and he looks alarmed. "Hey hey hey..! It's okay, alright? Don't cry." He quickly tried to comfort me. The tears spill over, and the combination of pain and hormones make me start sobbing into his chest. He pulls me in closer, stroking the back of my head while whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

Matt helps me calm down, my cries slowing down to hiccups. The cramps had dulled down to a throb, just mildly uncomfortable at this point. Nick comes back in, grinning a bit sheepishly, and places a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table. "Sorry that took so long (like this fucking fic)" I sniff and shake my head, smiling to lessen his guilt.

"It's ok. Thank you." Nick nods and leaves, casting Matt a half-joking look of anger for his earlier actions. Matt rolls his eyes, and turns his attention back to me. He continues running his fingers through my hair, helping me relax. "Damn, this month's being a bitch, huh?" He mumbles. I don't reply, too exhausted by my outpour of emotions and the pain.

We stay like that for a bit, my stomach settling while he continues to comfort me. He turns on a movie and we cuddle under the sheets. His warm body is pressed against mine, while my head is tucked under his chin.

Matt is humming slightly, his breath tickling my head and making me giggle. A wide smile breaks out on his face, the mood instantly lifted. "Why're you getting so giggly huh?" He asks in mock-confusion. I shake my head fondly, lightly pushing his chest. "Shut up, dumbass" "Hey, this dumbass made you feel better. Also, i'm pretty smart." I roll my eyes "No you're not, idiot"

A/N: If you can't tell, it's my shark week 😔 AND IT HURTS SM OMFG. I need a cuddle from Chris rn. There was also a little throwback at the end (ogs will get it) TL: @hearts4werka @stvrnzcherries @spaghetti835928383 @pvssychicken @snowysosturn @sturnmeovr No shtealing Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws <3 -Ropitipop 👁👅👁

[contrarianwitt]

okay i saw a post talking about ronan in the dreamer triology only really viewing “his people” as his brothers and adam, and not gansey anymore which like deeply hurts don’t get me wrong i wanna cry but i think it’s so interesting for their characters:

the biggest reason i think is because the dreamer trilogy can technically be read as a stand alone and gansey isn’t in it a lot, it wouldn’t make sense to mention him tons (this does annoy me a bit when this happens, not that i want like a fan-servicey mention every three seconds but it’s frustrating when you have four books of friendship and then it’s just abandoned, like even if it’s a standalone, it’s also a spinoff yk?)

but more interestingly, i think it goes to show the level of trust ronan has in gansey living.

the only way ronan survived after niall’s death was focusing on gansey as a guide and being his protector. he fervently dreams cures for stings for a guy destined to die, and attaches all of his worth and purpose onto gansey.

but now, gansey lived and will live, and doesn’t need ronan anymore to save him. it’s so bittersweet because they still are brothers and love each other but it will never be the same anymore

ronan views adam and his brothers as his sole responsibility and himself as their protector, while he knows that gansey will live and keep living, and that blue will be there to love and protect him. of course he holds a little resentment towards them for leaving, but i think he knows that gansey needs to move on, which is why he almost disregards gansey and doesn’t trouble him with any of his problems.

i don’t think it’s a case of ronan forgetting gansey or loving him any less. it’s just that they are not eachothers responsibility anymore. (but i still imagine the guilt gansey would feel after learning what’s happened to ronan…)

[jalluzas-ferney]

Considering those comic panels I posted earlier of how Ras and his gang found Jay and recruited him, it kinda seems like ras doesn’t know who Jay is? Like yeah, here the thing, at least this explains how Ras even found him because before that I was very confused ab how Ras even knew to find Jay at the administration? So this encounter makes a lot more sense and I’m glad we have that cleared up, but then another question arose for me.

Ras in the tournament clearly knew ab Jays history in the ninja team but in this comic he doesn’t rlly seem to know? He just seems surprised and eager to get him in his team because he’s powerful. But also, we never rlly know what’s going on in Ras head. Perhaps he did recognize Jay as the lightning ninja from the ninja team but just didn’t rlly voice it out loud?

Or my other option is that he might have not known at the moment but then he reported back to his master and perhaps his master is so powerful and all knowing that he knows who the lightning ninja is and told Ras ab it.

(Pages translated by @user-without-a-cool-acronym and @cable-salamdr lol thanks u guys )

[joicecubes]

HEY!!!!! HEY YOU!! (sits you down to listen to me yap about my queer headcanons for gravity falls characters)

mabel - okay lets get her out of the way. this girl is queer as fuck. she may not realize it yet, but in her teenage years i know she’s experimented with every single label and microlabel in existence. she’d try out hundreds of neopronouns. she realizes her obsession with boys as a kid was a result of comphet. i don’t have a specific label for her because i think in the end she’d discover she can’t make herself identify with any one label. because she’s just mabel! unlabeled and proud.

dipper - do i even have to say it… he’s trans. i think every queer person in this fandom headcanons him to be trans. moving on

stanley - he’s kinda unlabeled too, but for a reason opposite to mabel’s. ladies, gentlemen, doesn’t matter to him! i think its fair to assume he grew up believing that being gay was wrong, it was the 60s and 70s and his dad’s a piece of shit, but as he traveled the country and met so many different people and then witnessed the times changing around him… he’d just. grow into his attraction for men. like, yeah i like men? so what? he doesn’t care for labels. “bisexual, mabel? pansexual? quit making up words!”

(more starting with stanford under the cut this is gonna be sorta long)

stanford - hehehheee okay this is my favorite. i’ve thought about his sexuality a lot. he’s definitely gay to me, and i don’t have much reasoning for that other than like… my heart is telling me that’s the right answer. but he’s also definitely on the aroace spectrum. i personally think he’s demi or grayromantic, he feels romantic attraction VERY rarely and its part of the reason why he felt so helpless in the dating department as a teenager, and also why as an adult later on he tells fiddleford he doesn’t understand romance. he’s hardly ever experienced it! and he wouldn’t really KNOW he identifies with those labels until he’s back in his dimension and mabel is in her obsessed-with-queer-microlabels phase. he hears mabel say “demiromantic” and, being the nerd he is, immediately wants to know what this new word means and why he’s never heard of it before. so mabel rolls a big-ass whiteboard in and starts Mabel’s Guide to the Aromantic Spectrum! ford learns something about himself that day.

fiddleford - HE’S GAY. he’s gay. he’s so gay. i know he canonically has a wife but he literally leaves emma may to work on this mysterious project with his best and only MALE friend from college like… BE so fr. he made ford TWO christmas gifts and forgot to get anything for his wife!! i imagine his marriage to emma may was more of a way for him to deny his sexuality and live what he believes to be a “normal” life. and that obviously doesnt excuse the neglect to his family (because what the fuck fiddleford) but its how i personally make sense of his behavior.

bill cipher - bill transcends human comprehension of gender and sexuality. bill is just bill. but in human terms he’s a lover of all genders. as long as he can manipulate them, they’re fair game! (sorry ford)

wendy - okayyy yesss i know i used the comphet excuse once with mabel but i’m using it again god dammit. with the way wendy talks about her past boyfriends and how we see her be so vaguely invested in her relationship with robbie, it makes me think she’s either a lesbian or somewhere on the aromantic spectrum. she’s just not super interested! but she gives guys chances because why the hell not and is never super into any of it, eventually they break up, and she moves on with her life. i imagine sometime after high school is when she reflects on that and thinks… huh. was i ever attracted to men at all?

soos - saving the most anticlimactic for last… soos is straight to me. but he’s an ENTHUSIASTIC ally :)

thanks for reading i really like overthinking the theoretical queer identities of my favorite characters have a nice day (and let me know if you’re headcanons differ i would love to hear what people think!!)

[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.

[quirekey]

Can we have some TFOne Starscream x Elita headcanons?

I was gonna say no but this is such a comfort ship, because its so good i decided to do a fanfic instead. This is very short because I’m tired

DISCLAIMER: if you don’t like Starscream x Elita, pls scroll ^^

[ STARSCREAM ] x [ ELITA-ONE ]

[ starscream x elita-one ]

FANFIC

Let's say that Optimus Prime and Megatron had an agreement and were able to make-up. Instead of the war, it was the rebuilding of Iacon City. Optimus and Megatron ruled the city together and were heavily known for being truthful and real.

Starscream was the second-in-command for Megatron and Elita was the second-in-command for Optimus. Because of this, they had quite a lot of alone-time.

The alone-time they had consisted of awkward silence, tension and disagreements. They never really got along because of their opposing personalities. Starscream was cowardly, betraying and he thinks he’s the best while Elita was demanding, on task and fearless. Starscream thought she was too uptight and willing, sometimes even oblivious to Optimus Prime’s commands. Elita thought he was not deserving of his place as the second-in-command because of his every aspect.

Elita and Bumblebee were just having a small break together, sipping energon in a cozy room seemingly representing a living room. Her and him were just sitting around, each on a seperate couch.

“Why don’t you like Starscream? He’s fun to hang out with!”

“He’s incompetent and bratty. No point in trying to fix him. I don’t understand why you actually enjoy his company so much..”

“Heyy! He’s a good man, he told me that he enjoys your company a-“

“Bumblebee, did I hear you correctly?”

“Uh, no you didn’t. I meant that Starscream doesn’t mind hanging out you.”

“Bumblebee, I’m not stupid. Does Starscream really like my company? I don’t understand… All he does is make a fool out of me, even if it doesn’t make sense.”

“Okay, let me explain to you real quick. You know how I am friends with Starscream? He trusts me with most of his secrets because he thinks I’m really nice soo… He has told me many times about how much he wants to see you and how he wants to ki-“

“Stop, you’ve said enough. I’ll figure this out with him personally later.”

“Oh, well come to me when you need my help!”

Elita stood up with a hint of light-blue spreading across her face, swishing her glass and taking a last sip. She immediately made her way over to Starscream’s quarters with no plan, needing immediate answers.

She makes her way through the work-in-progress building, suddenly slamming the side of her fist on Starscream’s door repeatedly. The door slides open with a grumpy Starscream on the other side. Seemingly his grumpiness changed pretty quickly as he then smirked and crossed his arms.

“Why so sudden?”

“Starscream, I know about your feelings about me.”

“… Well duh, I hate you. What more is there to say?”

“…”

“… Bumblebee told you, didn't he?”

“Yeah, but I’m not complaining.”

THE END

This was more of a funny fanfic than anything else :)

[genderqueerdykes]

I saw one of your posts discussing it and people telling their experiences, if you don’t mind, I thought I’d also chime in with mine (if you do, feel free to just delete this!)

Overall, I feel like people gatekeeping discrimination does more harm than good and is itself a form of discrimination (and one that doesn’t always make sense) (for a lack of a better way to word it? I feel like I potentially worded that poorly. Like I’m aware there are different types of discrimination and that different people are affected differently and all that and how not everyone experiences all types of discrimination/some types of discrimination won’t really apply to them and all that)

For example, because I’m read as a woman/femme, I’ve received discrimination for taking a super low dose (“post-menopausal dose” is what my endocrinologist called it, I think) testosterone to treat my hypoandrogenism. For a while, I struggled how to refer to that discrimination because of all the gatekeeping.

I’ve received flak from the trans community for calling it “transphobia” because I’m not transitioning/on it for GAHRT reasons (due to safety reasons, I cannot medically transition and I’m closeted with the exception of a few spaces)/I’m closeted so people don’t know or whatever.

I’ve also received flak from the intersex community for simply asking if it counts as intersexism because some people don’t consider hypoandrogenism for those AFAB* as an intersex variation (they’ll say hyperandrogenism is, but hypoandrogenism is not). Those who do think it counts will give me a “they might assumed you’re trans and it was transphobia” which I feel comes off as well meaning but unintentionally dismissive?

Then, in the very few places I am out as trans , misogyny and the like get weirdly gatekept even when they’re aware that the rest of the world will me read me as a (perisex) cis woman???

Like I’ve talked about my experiences with misogyny and either get outright dismissed because I’m not a woman (which, while true, the rest of the world assumes I am and treats me as such).

At “best”, they will be indirectly dismissive; they’ll reply to my experience with misogyny with “well, as a woman…” and I have the urge to point out that while I am not a woman, I am treated and assumed and read as one (because I’m closeted everywhere else in my life, something the people saying this usually are aware of) and/or to bluntly ask them why they thought they needed to clarify that they are women since it comes off as dismissive/minimising my experience or why they seem to be kind of malgendering me or something like that…but that (the replies that come to mind) usually feels like I’m misgendering myself (which feels dysphoric) so I don’t say anything…

(None of this includes being dismissed by the queer community for having hormone issues. The amount of times I’ve gotten a “you’re not aro/ace/aroace/trans/transmasc/queer/etc, it’s probably just your hormone issues affecting you!” is ridiculous…but I feel like that’s a whole different can of worms)

Honestly, it’s all so tiring…

(* Sorry if this isn’t the right/“proper” term; I’m still learning and trying to figure out how to word things, become more educated on intersex topics and words and etc)

thanks for taking the time to send in your story. i have some experience with this so i'll chip in a little

I’ve also received flak from the intersex community for simply asking if it counts as intersexism because some people don’t consider hypoandrogenism for those AFAB* as an intersex variation (they’ll say hyperandrogenism is, but hypoandrogenism is not). Those who do think it counts will give me a “they might assumed you’re trans and it was transphobia” which I feel comes off as well meaning but unintentionally dismissive?

i'm so sorry that's happened to you before. it's very common right now. i've noticed that a lot of intersex people on here really seem to be focused on being really mean to trans people and literally outwardly transphobic. i don't care for it when other intersex people say shit like "perisex trans people are on thin ice." wow. i'm intersex too, but i'm not saying shit like that. i'm not at war with perisex trans people. they helped me realize i was trans and intersex. perisex trans people aren't automatically intersexist or gross or whatever. it's not intersexist to want to have a different body than you do currently

i really don't think it's right for intersex people to be doing this and we need to call it what it is: transphobia. so many intersex people on here just literally outright state how much they hate trans people it's disturbing. like. highly disturbing. not all intersex people are trans, and a lot of intersex people get confused for trans people. i get how that hurts but perisex trans people aren't hurting intersex people by virtue of existing. they're not "on thin ice" come on y'all. we have to educate people if we expect them to improve and get better.

[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 👇

[dock57]

[A shorter post. Monkey Wrench has a few continuing gags/jokes I would say. Mainly with Shrike.

My favorite so far is how Shrike keeps getting bind in episodes. I think EP 3 is the only one where he doesn’t get tied up, but he gets tied up in EP 1 by Kara.

In EP 2, by the Lythops (Probably spelled it wrong- don’t have time to look it up, sorry) which has one of my favorite jokes as well.

And of course in EP 4, Shrike is well, cuffed up in a backroom of the Strip Club on Thicc Chick Casino. Ya know for someone who sure doesn’t experience sex- he sure does get wrapped up in a lot of scenarios.

Really this scene killed me. Shrike is so done. He’s trying to fight for his life in the most awkward position and place. Yeah, no wonder Beebs thought something was going on at first- I love how the moment Beebs saw it was Shrike, Beebs is just like “wait- hold up, if Shrike’s involved, this is definitely not what I’m thinking it is.” Either cause he knows that Shrike is usually caught up in trouble or well, maybe knows that Shrike is well, not compatible in that department…

Man though, of all adult shows, I really love how settled the sex humor is in this show. Its not in your face, offensive or feels like it needs to be dragged out or the punchline to every joke or situation for it. I always just wanted an adult show that doesn’t feel like it needs to depended on the typical adult humor or tropes to be entertaining. I just never found those appealing when shows are depended on repulsive behavior, language or jokes, to keep it interesting. I wish there were more adult cartoons that don’t have to be the typical adult cartoon- one that also has a compelling story with interesting characters and plot, but really-

Really is not dependent on what makes a cartoon an “adult cartoon.” Does that make sense? Eh what do I know. Maybe I’ll talk more about it another time.]

[spadeprincesss]

How did Blue get his scars, and do any other colors have scars?

So Blue’s scars are interesting because although most are just a design choice that make sense to me given he’s constantly fighting on the front lines, there are some pivotal moments where he gains some nasty ones. I won’t go into detail because I want to write some snippets for scenes like this in the future but his nastiest scar is on his shoulder and runs all the way across it down to his chest. He gets it defending Green after the two of them end up in a really bad situation, refusing to let anyone close despite his injuries and holding his ground until help arrives.

In terms of the other’s they do have a few scars to boast about as well:

Vio has burn scars along his arm that match with Red thanks to an incident where they were trying work together to upgrade the fire rod and things went poorly. They were fine eventually but it gave everyone quite the scare. He also gains dark magic scarring on the tips of his fingers and even has it crawl all the way up his face if he pushes himself too far, but some healing magic or light magic helps clear the worst of those.

Green has a lot of scars on his chest and back, all from either fighting or defending Zelda or one of the other colors. Unlike Blue I haven’t thought of where exactly he has it but he does get a nasty one taking a blow for Blue in the scene I described earlier, which is why Blue has to defend him.

Like mentioned before Red has the burn scars along his arms from the incident but he has many more other than that from having to overuse his fire and ice rods without his gloves on. He almost lost his fingers to frostbite once which is why he got the gloves in the first place.

Shadow’s lack of a physical body means he doesn’t have any scars, unless he wants some.

Have to point out they all have small scars here and there from general hero/knight stuff but these are ones that would stand out!