#while my health is giving me grief

[f-imaginings]

I've been sick so bloody frequently this year, now I have an ear infection/ache so I'm on more antibiotics and pain meds AGAIN!

Anyway Chappell Roan was my most listened to artist on Spotify wrapped followed by ABBA so that's some good news amongst all the illness and drama.

[kyofsonder]

Brain in Daylight Hours: There is no mental or emotional space for writing. There are no new ideas, and no structure for old ideas.

Brain after Dark: Here's 38 new ideas, 3/4 of a structure, official permission to write, and -- oh. The only place to write in the dark is your phone? ... Never mind.

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

—

Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader

Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel

—

A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!

I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.

I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!

—————————————————

The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.

You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.

Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.

“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.

“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.

“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”

And the rest is history…

—

You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.

Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.

Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.

What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.

You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.

—

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.

“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.

You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.

“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.

“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.

“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.

“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”

You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.

“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.

He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?

“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”

It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.

You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.

You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.

—

It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.

His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.

It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.

—

You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.

You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.

Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.

“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”

You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.

The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.

“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.

“Y/N.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.

“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.

You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.

“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.

“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.

“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.

In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”

With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.

“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.

It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.

“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.

“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.

“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”

Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.

“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”

“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”

“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.

“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”

“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.

“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”

“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.

“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.

“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”

Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”

“Like a year ago for a mission…”

“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”

Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.

“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.

You were always just the other woman.

—————————————————

Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~

would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!

EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here

[omgthatdress]

Just a little considerations for those still grieving Liam Payne

So, right now, you are probably still lost in some very real grief over someone you never met but has still been a major part of your life since you were thirteen. You feel like you've lost an extremely close friend. It's hard to imagine your life where he isn't somehow present.

I know all this because felt the exact same way seven years ago when Chester Bennington died by suicide. And I do have a little bit of wisdom to share with you all right now, wisdom that I really wish I didn't have.

First of all, it's okay to be sad. To cry. To feel like shit and wish this had happened to someone else, someone who deserved it. Give yourself the time and space to feel all that because it's the only way you can start to move on. Feeling sad is only a problem when, months later, you simply CAN'T move on. That's depression, and that's when you should seek professional mental health treatment.

Secondly, there aren't going to be ANY easy answers in this. Right now a lot of people are looking for fingers to point, people to blame, and even finding conspiracy theories that Liam was murdered. While it may be initially comforting to fall into the idea that Liam didn't do this to himself, he was murdered for some reason (usually because he was going to expose a pedophile ring of some sort), conspiracy theories are always wrong and will NEVER give you the satisfying answer you want.

It was Liam's decision to step out onto that balcony, and his alone. It is no one else's fault. Accepting that is incredibly hard to do, but it is ultimately what will grant you the most peace.

As for what lead up to that, well, there's a lot. Fucked up celebrity deaths are kind of my Roman Empire, so while I never knew Liam, I DO know a lot about what leads up to huge, terrible tragedies that play out in the tabloids in extremely ugly ways.

Becoming famous at a really young age is an incredibly mixed bag. While you do get to live out this shit 99% of people on earth can only dream of, it does mean you often find yourself at 30 with a career that's basically over. A lot of young celebs simply don't know what to do with themselves once the fame and adoration has dried up, and the answer is usually to do an absolute fuck ton of drugs.

Drug and alcohol abuse changes your personality. I know this from personal experience. Someone very close to me developed a serious problem with alcohol, and turned from a kind, funny, wonderful person to someone nasty, abusive, and resentful. Someone I didn't recognize at all. While I and my person were very lucky that they were able to quit drinking, not everyone is so lucky.

Liam deserved better. He was so young and he still had ample opportunity to turn his life around. But he made one terrible decision, and now he's dead, and there simply is no changing that.

So what do you do? Remember him, and love him. Be grateful for the joy that he brought into your life. Sing his songs, and stay close to the friends you made because of him. The fact that you are so fucking sad right now is a beautiful thing, because it only shows how deeply loved Liam Payne really was.

[starlighttsv]

I’m not fine - p.b

Sum: R is struggling bad and Paige comes to the rescue

Warnings: bad mental health, depression, grief, talks of cancer

Notes: this is my first time writing like angst/sad stuff please tell me how it is and what to change 🙏 requested by @melpthatsme

Pair: paige x bsf!reader

Wc: 1.9k

It’s now been 9 days since your mom died, although it feels like it’s been a lifetime. Your mom was diagnosed with breast cancer about 2 years ago and 2 years ago she said she would fight to the end…and she did.

When you got the call that she wasn’t doing to great you immediately booked a plane ticket to Minnesota and left, forgetting to mention anything to your professors, Geno and CD, or any of your teammates including Paige.

You received calls and texts wondering where you were and what happened for days the only one that didn’t message for days was Paige - and that’s because she has your location.

When you didn’t respond to her 10 messages and 20 missed calls she knew something was up and checked your location to see you heading towards Minnesota, immediately knowing something was going on with your mom.

Paige thinking responsibly in this situation went and talked to Geno, telling him what she thinks is wrong and where she knows you went. Geno ended up giving you and her a week off telling her to find you, make sure you’re ok, and then to get you back home safely.

When Paige got to Minnesota that night she went to check your location while at the airport to see your step dad had texted Paige - basically telling her that your mom has an hour maybe two left and that she needs to get here as soon as she can because he’s worried about you.

That confirmed what Paige was thinking was happening and made her rush to the hospital getting there in around 35 minutes from Uber. When she walked in she went to the front desk telling them your moms name with them giving her directions to the room.

Walking into room 305 she saw your step dad leant against the wall with one of his arms crossed over his chest and the other covering his mouth, looking around she saw your older brother trying to comfort your guy’s kid siblings, and you laying on your moms hospital bed with your head on her chest holding onto her tightly, sleeping.

Your step dad noticed her first getting off the wall and walking towards her - bringing her into a hug “thank you for coming, im just- I know this is gonna hit her hard and that she’s gonna push us away. I feel like you’re the one she won’t be able to push away and if she does you’ll still be able to get to her.” he whispers to her while they both watch you sleep on your moms chest while she slowly plays with your hair

“How long has she been like this?” Paige asks him “I called her at around 11am she got here around 6:35pm so since then.” He replies sadly “she’s been just hanging out in the corner watching all of us but the doctor told us to start saying goodbyes a little bit ago. She decided to go last and she hasn’t moved since.”

Paige nods setting her suitcase that she filled for both of you knowing you weren’t thinking when you just up and left, by the door and carefully walked over to you and your mom

“Hey, mom” paige says to your mom as you guys grew up with each other so you call each other’s mothers mom. “hey Paige, how are you?” She replies weakly while still slowly playing with your hair “Been better, what about you?”

“Ohh you know, been better” she replies a little sarcastically chuckling a little bit, making Paige fake laugh a little with her eyes welling up with tears

“Oh Paige don’t cry, it’s ok! I promise!” Your mom try’s to backtrack “Its not ok. You don’t deserve this. This shouldn’t be how your story ends.” Paige says wiping the tears that escaped

Your mom didn’t say anything just opened her other arm for Paige, letting p hug her.

Your mom sadly passed about 25 minutes later with you waking up because you didn’t hear her heartbeat in your ear anymore.

Ever since you got home from the hospital you locked yourself in your room. You stayed laying sideways on your bed facing the wall for days without moving. The day of your mom’s funeral was probably the hardest day to get through, getting up from bed was painful because of you not moving around, standing made you dizzy because of the not eating, you also had a headache and stomach ache from not eating.

During the funeral it was like ‘the lights are all on but nobody’s home’ you were smiling and greeting everyone, having multiple conversations through out the day with different people, you also spoke at her funeral, you didn’t cry once. You stayed smiling through the whole day.

Until you weren’t.

Getting home from all of the funeral duties you guys did at around 8pm, everyone was tired and everyone was upset - but they all still noticed your behavior at the funeral and now.

“Hey why don’t we all watch a movie in the living room? I’ll make popcorn?” Your step dad say’s trying to keep you from going to your room without you noticing that’s what he’s doing.

Your siblings and Paige all agree but you don’t “I’m tired. I’m just gonna take a shower and head to bed.” You say starting to walk upstairs “hey wait up, I’ll go with you” paige says starting to walk closer to you “no it’s fine P, just watch the movie like you wanted. Im just going to sleep.” Paige looked like she was going to argue “P seriously, I’m fine. Im tired and I want to go to bed.” You say trying to convince her and yourself

Paige looked hesitant but ended up letting you walk upstairs with her sighing and turning around to go to the living room where all of your family went during that conversation

Your step dad looked at Paige in a way of asking if you were joining making her shake her head sadly and him sigh.

Since coming back home from the funeral, you went back to hiding. You locked yourself in your room laying bundled up in your blankets, you ignored everything and everyone. Your family and Paige knocked on your door multiple times a day either to try and get you out or to try and get you to eat something, but you just ignored them everyday.

It’s also now been more than a week meaning you and Paige were supposed to be back in Connecticut 3 days ago. Luckily Paige is your knight in shining armor right now and called Geno, telling him everything. He gave both of you another two weeks excusing both of you from any games that would take place in that time frame.

Paige has been talking through your door for the last 25 minutes trying to get you to open the door, no luck so far.

“Your dad went back to work today, said they couldn’t figure out how to do somethin. Your siblings also went back to school today, the school knows what happened so they’re offering counseling to them.” Paige says sitting against your door listening for any movement but sighing when she didn’t hear any “please open the door. Im worried about you.” She starts “remember when you first found out about her diagnosis? You came to me crying saying you didn’t want to lose her and that you were scared. Do you remember what I said?”

“I said that I would always be by your side, that I would never let you be alone. No matter what, and I’m gonna stick by that even if you’re trying to push me away. Your moms not in pain anymore I promise.” She continues before starting again “your mom wouldn’t want you to be locked up in your room over her. You and I both know that. please just open the door, you don’t even have to leave your room just let me come in there.” She says and try’s listening for movement again but gets disappointed all over again

Right when she was standing up from sitting against your door to go back to the living room, your door opens making her immediately turn around and look at you

You look disheveled. Your hairs messy, you have dark circles over your eyes with tear streaks still on your face, your eyes are red and puffy, your favorite hoodie is now a little baggy on you, and you look like your about pass out

Paige immediately walks closer to you and brings you into her chest, letting you lean all of your weight onto her. She has one hand holding your head to her chest and the other wrapped around the middle of your back while you have your arms wrapped around her waist

“You don’t have to go through this alone, You know that right? Paige mumbles into your hair with you staying quiet.

After a few moments of silence Paige feels something wet on her shirt already knowing that you’re crying, making her hug you tighter. That triggered the waterfall making you start sobbing into Paige’s shirt

“It’s ok, it’s ok. Let it out, it’s ok” paige says staring to rub your back and hold you tighter. “I can’t do this” you sob out “i can’t live without her”

“Shhh shh it’s gonna be ok. You’re never gonna be living without her, she’s always gonna be right next to you watching you and being your guardian angel I promise.” Paige say’s keeping up with her movements on rubbing your back and scratching your head

You don’t answer just cry a little bit louder. Your knees buckle under you but since Paige was holding you still she was able to catch you and decided to just help you sit on the ground so in case you do pass out you would be able to lay down.

She sits against the wall and has you sitting in between her legs still holding onto her waist, with her hands still in the same spots they were in before.

“Please stop trying to push me away. I wanna be here for you.” Paige mumbles into your hair, you just nod into her chest gripping the back of her shirt in your fists

Paige kept her promise and stuck by your side, helping you with everything. You needed groceries? She’s already driving to the store. You don’t have the energy to cook? She’s making it or she’s door dashing, depends really. You can’t get out of bed? She’s getting in your bed beside you and you guys are having a movie night sleepover. You don’t feel the best because of your depression? She’s drawing you a warm bath with a bath bomb, candles, and scents and making your favorite food while you’re in the bath. And so much more - paige has been your rock during this whole nightmare making it feel not as dark and difficult as it actually is.

You both have gone back to Connecticut, and you talked with Geno and CD when you got back with them requesting that you also see some type of councilor or therapist. After that the team decided to have a team night where you do anything and everything - wanting to show that they are in fact there for you and you don’t have to go through the grief process alone.

And eventually after some time you realized that on your own.

[missnightshade]

❝ THREE OF SWORDS ❞

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request? No no. But I promise I'll work on some requests soon.

Summary: Agatha is no stranger to pain and loss. Yet, somehow, even the thought of losing you is too much to bear.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Sickness. Mentions of death (not Rio this time). English not being my first language. Poor ending skills.

Word count: 1.1K.

The Three of Swords:

Grief, heartbreak, and sorrow.

Agatha Harkness was a totem of pain. Most wouldn’t know or believe it to be true. The Witches community could only measure her to their own rules and deception. She was a killer. A heartless, powerful and unruly woman, born to no good deeds.

But for a green eyed, younger witch, she was everything but a bad person.

You would always be reminded of a ghost memory of a smiling Nicholas, laughing in a field of dandelions as his mother chased him. Agatha was carefree then. Her previous Coven a memory left behind and her actions justified by the sweet smile little Nicky would give her.

Agatha never told the full deal with her son’s existence till he was gone while the other woman, still getting to know the Harkness witch, held her by Nicky's grave. It was now lost somewhere in the forests of Massachusetts, long gone and rusted, but his passing held a strong place in her heart still.

Centuries might pass, but it was certain that nothing would hurt her more than that. Not her mother’s hate. Not her trial by the people who she was raised with. Not the many people she lost along the way.

But one day, as you fell sick to the bed, something as strong as her son’s death came close to hurting her.

You laid there, the same green eyes tired as something twisted your health. As Agatha cared for you in the coziness of her newfound house in Westview, you grumbled as the whole contents of your stomach flooded from your mouth into the bucked Agatha held close to you. Her soup, your favorite, completely gone now.

“Doll..we should see a doctor. You haven’t left the bed for three days.” She argued, trying to fix your hair behind the left ear.

A laugh scaped you as your hands, damp and cold, grasped at her touch to make it last. Agatha’s fingers stayed there, slowly moving to touch your right cheek.

“I am a witch, love, much like you. Doctors will do me no good.”

She ruffled, but as her hands felt the hotness that irradiated from your skin, her eyes roamed over the pale face in front of her. Agatha’s thoughts were much like a fortress in the night. Hidden. Protected. But not for you. She felt at ease by your side after so many years. Trust was the one thing only you could give her. And then, as you saw her eyes glistening under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her mind presented itself like an open book.

She feared for your health. The fever and weakness of your body reminded her so much of her last night with Nicholas. Nothing would hurt as much as it did…but losing you to the same fate as him was painful. A pain that not even with all her sorrows and heartbreaks, she was ready to go through again.

“Aggy…” You whispered and when your sweet tone scaped weekly, the bucket was left in the floor as she tried to scape your gaze so the tears rolling down her cheeks wouldn’t be seen. “Love, look at me.”

The weak request acted like knife to her fragile heart. Agatha was tough on the outside, but not at all on the inside. Her gaze softened as her eyes, glazed and red, found yours. You reached out even with your whole body begging for some rest, and without any complaints, she quickly found her place in the bed you shared. She needed comforting, but her body was the one to hold yours. Your lips found their way to her collarbone with sweet kisses untill you reached her face. You nuzzled her cheek, hand gently holding her face to bring her to face you in the comfort of the bubble you both shared. Agatha sniffled, softly tightening her hold to your as if to stop you from fading away. Understanding her needs, you pressed flushed to her, breathing deeply.

“I’m here, my love. And I am not going anywhere.” You reassured. Agatha opened her eyes, gazing at you from the few centimeters between you both.

“You’re so sick, Doll. It worries me that you…you will…”

“Go meet him?”

The way your words stung left her breathless. Agatha had a difficult time speaking up about Nicholas even since. But while she failed, you didn’t. It was important for her to still mention him. To treat him like he deserved: an important part of her that, although painful, was beautiful.

She nodded, and you simply smiled.

“If I was to meet him…know that he would be loved even there.” Her fearful eyes met yours again, but you continued. “But I am not to be dead now. I’m just simply ill. It shall pass. Like everything. Trust me on this one, baby. I’m going to be just fine.”

Agatha breathed out shakily, not noticing how much it affected her.

“I cannot lose you too.”

“You won’t. Ever.”

[ . . . ]

As the morning came, the energy shared between the two seemed to act like a love spell. The curing type rather than the bonding one. Stirring awake, the warmth of Agatha’s arms around your body was missing. You could wait and rest, but the ache and the dizziness were pretty much gone.

You raised, brushed your teeth even, and managed to find a messy haired Agatha quietly moving around the kitchen. She seemed busy with a tea in her hand and potion tools all over the place as something boiled in her ironed cauldron. As she looked up at your figure, her tea was almost spilled all over the countertop as she rushed to your side.

“Doll, what are you doing up?” she touched you, analyzing your whole state as you laughed softly.

“I felt better, so I came down for breakfast. “ You gathered her euphoric hands to kiss her knuckles. “But you…what are you doing?”

Agatha looked over her work station for a minute before going back to you.

“I had a crazy dream-memory about a potion that I used to make for Nicky so he could feel better. I thought it may work better for you.” Her voice trailed behind her thoughts. “You feel better?”

Softly, your hugged her neck with your arms gently bringing her closer.

“Yeah. Not a hundred percent, but much better.”

She breathed out, relived. But even so, she gently walked with you closer to one sip of the potion already ready for you.

“Still. Take this. Can’t have you feeling worse again.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered.

“Only because I love you.”

As you chugged down the contents of the cup, Agatha observed you from her place at your side, fingers gently stroking your waist. Seeing the color back to your pretty features calmed her chaotic mind, and she was reminded once again how important you were to her. When the potion was done, she pulled you closer, kissing every bit of skin that you showed.

“I love you more, stubborn girl.”

You were going to get better. You wouldn't be her sorrow.

[cevansbrat0007]

The Do-Over

Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance, including jerks like Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson. Takes place directly after the events in Hello, Duchess.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bucky Barnes, A Deep Love of Clark Bars, Light Groveling, Bickering, Discussions of Grief, Threats of Violence, Gentle Manhandling, Brief References to Negative Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

An annoyed Ari takes a pull from his cigarette as he listens to his friend and fellow combat vet give him shit all the way from his office back in New Mexico. As soon as this was over, he was going to ditch this empty parking lot to find himself an ice cold beer and a goddamned steak. 

He was officially ready to put this day behind him. But first he needed a decent dinner.

“So let me see if I’ve got this right.” His friend begins, now that he’d finally stopped cursing up a blue streak. “Do you really mean to tell me that you took our best lead, which just so happened to be the perp’s girlfriend, and fucked it all to hell?”  

Okay, but just because that’s what happened doesn't necessarily mean that it was actually his fault. He’d just been a little off his game.

“Hey Buck, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re beginning to sound as dramatic as Rogers.”

“Steve would never fuck-up something this big for us.” He could practically hear the man flipping him off.

“I’m telling you this girl would’ve cut off Golden Boy’s balls and fed them to him for breakfast, okay?” He takes another puff, flicking some of the excess ash out his driver-side window. “Trust me.”

“Hold on.” An exasperated Bucky sighs into the receiver before placing the phone on his desk to speak to whoever had just walked into his office. He hoped whoever it was had better news than he did, otherwise he feared his old war buddy might have an aneurysm.

Sometimes he got the impression that Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes was wound a little too tight.    

The silence drags on as Ari contemplates getting out of his car to stretch his legs. It’s another several minutes before Bucky is back on the line, and this time he sounds positively exhausted.

“We can’t afford to lose this one, man. Westbrook might be a piece of shit, but he’s an expensive piece of shit. So while I don’t care how you feel about the girl, you need to make things right. She could have some valuable intel.”

“Yeah, I know.” His mood darkens as he flicks the cigarette onto the pavement. As he watches it hit the ground, he finds himself wondering if it was finally time to quit the cancer sticks altogether. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before.

“Besides, what do you care if she was Westbrook’s fuck buddy?” Ari’s treated to the sound of his friend unwrapping something that sounded suspiciously like a candy bar. There was only one person who was known to keep that stuff at the office.

Which meant that shit had better not come from his personal stash, otherwise Bucky Barnes was a fucking dead man.

“I don’t.” Ari growls, sucking on his teeth. “And that had better not be a Clark Bar you’re eatin'.”

“Hate to break it to ya, pal. But based on what you told me earlier, it kinda sounds like you might.” There’s an unmistakable sound of a grin in his voice, which irks the bounty hunter to no end. 

“And I think it’s finally time you got your hearing checked, old man.” He growls back, although his words lack any real fire. 

“As for your precious Clark Bars,” he continues. “See, normally I’d pass on ‘em. But Pixie’s been on a health kick lately and she threw out all the junk food. So, I’m desperate.” Bucky gives an exaggerated groan. “Plus, she has no idea about your stash.” 

“Jesus.” Ari grumbles, firing up his engine with the intent to head back to the house he was currently renting. “I really wish you two would just suck face already and get it over with.”

“Mind your fucking business, Levinson.”

“Then keep your filthy hands off my fuckin’ Clark Bars, Barnes.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other line, prompting Ari to roll his eyes. All he wanted was for this conversation to fucking end.

“Look.” Bucky grunts. “You bring down this Westbrook fucker and I’ll buy you a goddamned case of those stupid bars. Alright?”

“You got yourself a deal.” Turning on his truck, Ari slowly heads for the exit as his stomach begins to rumble. Maybe he’d track down some shrimp to go with that steak.

“And fix whatever it is you fucked up with that bookstore broad while you’re at it.” 

“I’ll do my best.” He grimaces as his mind treats him to images of you threatening him with your taser. “But if that little spitfire puts me in the hospital you’re footin’ the bill.” And with that, Ari hangs up the phone.

As of now, he was officially done for the night.

A Few Days Later…

You’re sitting on the floor of your stockroom when you hear the tinkling of bells signaling the arrival of a customer. Groaning as you rise to your feet, you wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants and head to the front of the store. 

Business had been unusually slow today, so hopefully this patron - whoever they were - would be in the mood to buy something. As you were driving in this morning, you’d briefly considered holding another sale. Maybe it was time for another book fair. That seemed to be pretty popular the last time you’d done it. 

You’re in the middle of making a mental note to reach out to the local librarian when your eyes land on the absolute last person you wanted to see standing in your lobby: Ari Levinson. 

Not this guy again. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, offering up an unapologetic shrug as he takes in the sight of you in your form-fitting yoga pants. 

Apparently you’d spoken out loud. Perhaps if you kept doing it, the man would eventually get offended enough to leave. Wishful thinking at its finest.

When the intruder realizes you don’t plan on speaking again, he decides to take advantage of the silence by doing something completely unexpected. 

“I just dropped by to, uh…” He takes a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. “Apologize for how our last meeting went. While it wasn’t my intention to insult you, I know that I did.” One big hand comes up to massage the back of his neck. “Just wanted to offer that, for whatever it’s worth.”

“Oh. Wow.” You reply dumbly, crossing your arms over your chest. For whatever reason, you got the distinct impression that he didn’t make apologies often. 

“You’re right, sweetheart. I don’t.” His lips turn up in an awkward grin as he takes a step toward you. “But a real man knows how to own up to his shit, which is exactly what I’m doin right now.”

“Okay.” 

Mouth suddenly dry, you go to take a step back, only to find that your legs no longer work. Next thing you know, Ari is in your space, his boot clad feet are now mere centimeters from your well-loved sneakers as he towers over you. 

He holds out his hand as a gesture of goodwill, silently imploring you to take it. Your eyes lock with his as yours moves on its own accord – almost as if you’d been entranced. 

Your hand feels so small and delicate in his grasp. And for a second, you wonder what it might be like to lace your fingers together. How it would feel to hold onto him so intimately for just a few seconds longer. You sneak a glance up at Ari, only to watch as his pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring just slightly. It’s enough to let you know that you’re not the only one affected.

“You think we might be able to try this again?” His deep baritone washes over you like a balm. “You have my word I’ll do a much better job of, uh, keeping myself in check.” 

Yanking your hand away, all you can do is nod. Part of you almost wished the man would go back to acting like an asshole. At least then you would know how to handle him. This so-called charming and apologetic Ari was a different beast entirely.

“I–” You swallow thickly. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” His easy smile has the nerve to do funny things to the butterflies in your belly. “And while I would hate to do anything that might spoil this good will, I would like to ask you a couple of questions right now.”  

Instantly suspicious, you open your mouth to deliver a curt “no”. However, having already anticipated this, Ari is quick to amend his request by promising not to be too invasive. He also insists that he’ll follow your lead. 

“If at any moment you want to stop, we’ll stop. You have my word on that too, darlin’.” He surveys the room, absentmindedly scratching at his jaw. “You good with me ensuring we have a little privacy?” Again you nod, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

Because at this point, it just didn’t make sense to kick the man out. Especially not when he seemed to be taking great pains to be respectful. You could only hope that he’d appreciate your cooperation enough to go bother someone else when you were through. 

Maybe it might be worth leading him back towards someone who’d actually appreciate his attention. Someone like your would-be frenemy, Charline Marshall. 

Seemingly encouraged by your response, the invasive bounty hunter hustles towards the door so that he could flip your sign from open to closed. And, unbeknownst to him, it also gives you a chance to begrudgingly appreciate just how good his ass looks in his Levi’s. 

Alright. So maybe you’d hold off on feeding Ari Levinson to Charline and her disciples – at least for right now.

“You know.” You cough, needing to give yourself a moment to recalibrate before you said or did something dumb. “I actually just remembered that I needed to fix a couple of things around the shop during my lunch break.”

An unruffled Ari simply smiles and winks back at you. “Thought you said you believed in your ability to multitask?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at the smug bastard. Because he was right. You absolutely had said that. And then he’d had the gall to fucking listen. 

“Fine.” Shooting him a glare, you head over to the counter and toe-off your shoes. 

“Appreciate it, darlin’.” 

Just like last time, out comes his pen and tiny notebook. He flips it open to a new page before giving you his full attention. Meanwhile, you’re now hellbent on acting like he doesn’t exist. 

“How long have you owned your shop, Baubles & Quills?” 

If you were to look in his eyes at that moment, you would’ve seen them shining with genuine inquisitiveness. Almost as if he actually wanted to get to know you. 

“A few years.” You reply, bracing your hands on the flat surface of the desk. “I spent a large part of my childhood here, buried amongst books. My uncle left it to me when he passed. But I’m sure you already knew that.” 

Taking a deep breath, you send up a silent prayer to the Lord asking him not to let you fall before hefting yourself onto the counter with all the grace you can muster.  

“Maybe.” Ari concedes while jotting something down on his notepad. “But it’s different coming from – just what the hell are you doin’ woman?!”

“Checking out this light fixture.” You huff as you work to steady yourself.

“Any reason you couldn’t do that from the ground?” The bounty hunter surprises you by sounding more than a little stressed.

Confused by his response, you manage to spare a quick glance in his direction. Although your unlikely companion looks less than happy, you fail to fully grasp the nature of the problem. 

“Because I couldn’t quite tell if this whole panel was out, or just the one little section.” 

“Alright, well…” He drags an agitated hand through his already messy brown locks. “Now that you’ve seen it, how about you come on down from there?”

“Oh my goodness, Levinson.” An exasperated chuckle bubbles its way from your throat. “It’s just the counter. Save the freakout for when you find me on the flippin’ roof or something.” 

“You’re standin’ on the damned thing wearin’ nothing but socks. It’s like you’re askin’ to fall.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“How the hell is my expressin’ concern about your safety bein’ dramatic?” 

“Next question, buddy.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the affronted look on the bounty hunter’s gorgeous face.

Ari forces himself to take a breath before attempting to return back to the task at hand. “I have it here that your Uncle is the late Lenny Barstowe. He was, by all accounts, an upstanding pillar of this community.”

“He was.” You agree, bending down to grab the duster resting near your feet. 

“You say he was your uncle, and yet you two don’t share the same last name.” He frowns when he notices your slight wobble. 

And for the tenth time in almost as many minutes he finds himself wondering why the fuck you didn’t hire someone to take care of shit like this for you? Hell, give him a ladder and a free afternoon and he’d handle things himself.      

“Wow. Nothing gets past you.” You sniff, trying to fight back a sneeze as dust goes flying. “They teach you those observation skills in private detective school?”

“Sure did.” Ari snorts without missing a beat, tucking the pen behind his ear. “First thing on the syllabus, in fact.”    

“Thought so.” 

“So glad we cleared that up.”

You can’t stop the small thrill that courses through you when you notice the newfound tick in his jaw. If you weren’t careful, you could find yourself growing addicted to that little zing in your blood. To that tiny spike in your pulse you felt every time you two sparred.  

“But if we could go back to your uncle, I’m sure losing him had to be hard – what with him being your only family.” He takes a turn fanning himself with his notebook. ”Was your friend, Martin, there for you during that difficult time?” 

That particular question actually makes you pause and reflect. You’d been so lost in grief back then, which is part of the reason it had taken you so long to claw your way out of that dark hole. And, if memory served, you’d done that majority of that clawing on your own.

“I’m sure he was around, Mr. Levinson.” Your answer sounds cagey, even to your own ears. “But I pretty much wore my grief like a sweater back then. And if I’m being honest, those first few months after losing him were nothing but a miserable haze.”    

“I know the feeling.” He murmurs as he scribbles on the page. 

“Look.” You blow out a breath as you attempt to gauge the distance between the desk and the ground. As of this moment, you officially regretted not grabbing your step stool. “I don’t know where Martin is or who he’s running from. All I know is that he was scared, but he refused to tell me anything more, okay?”

“Did he ask you for money?”

“Yes.” 

He’d also called you too. And while you choose to keep that little detail to yourself, you figure there was no harm in telling him about the money. At the time you’d had no idea you were potentially aiding and abetting a criminal. Or maybe you just hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“And did you give it to him?” The intense look in his beautiful blue eyes has you suddenly feeling foolish.  

“Yes.” 

It’s that one word, spoken barely above a whisper, that leaves Ari shaking his head. His gaze drops to the ground as he works to rein-in his temper. You have no idea what a struggle it is for him to do so – because he’s not upset with you. 

If anything, you’d just given him one more reason to run that slippery motherfucker into the goddamned ground. 

“How much did he get you for?” Even though Ari has calmed himself considerably, his tone still comes off harsher than he intends. 

“Almost $500.” You tell him, your face hot with embarrassment. “I suppose I should’ve asked more questions. You probably think I’m an idiot for –”

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He swiftly interjects, not wanting you to get upset. “You’re doin’ so great bein’ honest with me right now.” Unsure of what else to do, he tosses his notebook aside in favor of reaching for your hand. “I know this shit ain’t easy.”  

“I think I’m done for now.” You tell him, doing your best to avoid looking at your now joined hands. God, he really needed to stop doing that. “Please.”

“Okay.” He readily agrees as his thumb strokes along the ridge of your knuckles. “Then we’re done.” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Are you gonna let me help you down off the counter before you kick me out?”

“It’s okay. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You mumble as you busy yourself with trying to figure out the easiest way to sit and scootch your way out of your current situation.

The last thing you needed was this man accidentally throwing out his back over some misplaced chivalry. 

To his credit, Ari decides to ignore your feeble protests. “C’mon and let me help you.” He repeats, gesturing for you to step towards the edge of the counter so that he can grab you by the waist. “And then I’ll be on my way.”

“Really, I’m fine.” You attempt to swat at his hands, which doesn’t actually work.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He assures you gently. “Just trust me.” The next thing you know, you’re suddenly being lifted into the air. “I got you.”

“Ack – I’m too heavy!” You squeal, immediately caught off guard by the way your legs briefly dangle in the air. Try as you might, you honestly could not remember the last time a man had picked you up. 

Your heart speeds up as he effortlessly sets you down on your feet, allowing your body to slide down the solid wall of his chest. Instinctively, your hands fly to his biceps in an effort to steady yourself. 

“Thank you.” You’re suddenly having a hard time breathing around this man. “But you really shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve hurt –”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t nothin’ but a feather.” Ari rumbles, his hands still resting firmly on your hips. 

“Somehow I doubt that.” You whisper, knowing that you should demand that he let you go. Except your body is too busy buzzing to actually cooperate. 

“Happy to prove you wrong any time.” While you suspect that he hadn’t really meant to say that, his smile is full of promise. “But right now, I’m afraid I’ve gotta head out.” Although it still takes another second for him to release you. 

Not that you’re complaining any. Which deep down you know could spell trouble for you. 

Before he leaves, however, Ari reaches into the front pocket of his jeans to hand you what looks a lot like a business card. “What’s this?” You mentally smack yourself in the forehead the moment the question leaves your mouth. 

“My card.” He responds as he now heads toward the door. “That’s my cell, just in case you need it.”

“Oh.”

“Call any time, day or night.” Ari’s gruff, no-nonsense tone goes straight to your core. “You remember somethin’ about Martin? Call me. You lookin’ for someone to stand guard while you lock up at night? Call me. You need to hear a friendly voice in the dark? Fucking call me.” 

His offer takes you by surprise. So much so, that you’re temporarily rendered speechless as you clutch the stiff piece of paper in your palm. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever take him up on his offer, you could certainly appreciate his generosity. 

“Thank you.” You rasp, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.

“Any time, Duchess.” His head dips politely as he exits through the front door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

And just like that he was gone, which meant you could finally breathe normally again. Strange butterflies once again fill your belly as you take your time examining the card your bounty hunter had left behind. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever call him, you decide it’s worth tucking into a zippered pocket in your purse before getting on with the rest of your day. 

Little did you know that you would come to need that tiny piece of paper sooner rather than later…  

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

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[mingisongs]

𓇢𓆸 solace in us

ateez! song mingi x reader ᡣ𐭩

summary; your boyfriend comforts you thru health concerns and fertility issues

pairing; song mingi x afab!reader

word count; 2.2k

tags; comfort, fluff, grief

trigger warnings; infertility, reproductive illness !!

notes; personal to me — ♡

ᡣ𐭩

my dream had always been to be a mother.

and after meeting mingi, that desire grew into an aching need. the thought of us blossoming into such a testament of our love as that filled me with not only joy for my own dream, but euphoria at the thought of getting to be the person who makes him a father. he was young, i was young, but i had never met anyone with as much love to give as he did, and i felt in my heart that he could and would be the best parent.

he was aware that i was no longer on any form of contraceptive, and while we weren’t purposefully trying to conceive, we weren’t actively trying to prevent it. it wasn’t really a thought for either of us, and the way we were intimate was never careless nor with the sole intent to get pregnant. but we both shared the idea that we wanted a family together in the future, and my greatest hope was that i would be able to surprise him with the news that he was going to be a father.

i sat beside him on my couch, my chin resting against my knees as my thighs were brought up to my chest. he was sleepily watching the movie we’d put on an hour prior, but my drowsy eyes could only focus on him. he was unaware of my staring at him, and i giggled quietly, causing his attention to turn to me.

“what?” he asked, blissfully ignorant to the fact that i hadn’t been paying a bit of attention to the TV. his bare, clear skin without makeup adorning his eyelids, playful concern spreading across his face as i struggled to answer. i shook my head, unsure of why the bliss i felt was causing me to laugh.

“i just love you,” i said softly.

his bashfulness caused the soft pink of his cheeks to darken, while i knew he wasn’t shy about his affection, but just flustered when i professed my adoration for him unprompted. he reached out, pulling me against him, and i snuggled closer into his chest. his scent was so comforting, welcoming, him. i hated the way that his presence made me sleepy from how safe i felt, because i wanted nothing more than to stay awake 24/7 showering him with kisses and praise.

he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “i love you more than anything.” another kiss, his lips against my hair longer this time. “anything.”

we fell asleep on the couch that night.

•

the next day, i was sat on the bathroom floor. i was struggling to keep quiet, but devastation was debilitating me, and stifling my sobs was becoming more and more difficult by the second. mingi was still here at my apartment, but he was in the other room, and in his usual fashion i knew he was waiting patiently impatient for me to return.

it was the fourth time my late period came with not one, but two negative pregnancy tests, and the knowledge i had of my cycle had made it almost impossible for the timing to have been wrong. i wrapped the plastic tests in toilet paper and shoved them down into the trash can, and stood up to wipe my eyes. splashing my face with cold water, wiping my nose, trying to convince myself it was okay, nothing helped. every time i felt a sliver of peace, it was broken with the reality of the circumstances. it took forever to catch my breath and gain the courage to return to mingi’s side.

when i opened the bathroom door, however, he was standing directly behind it, staring at me with a worry and fear i had never seen in his eyes before.

“what’s wrong?” he asked. “you were crying?”

i felt paralyzed, my blood frozen cold in my veins. we were both too nervous to speak.

he finally reached out, taking my hand in his. “please, please tell me.”

i didn’t want to speak, it felt as though i couldn’t. “i… i’m sorry for worrying you —”

he reached up to wipe a tear from under my eye. “talk to me. that’s what i’m here for.”

“my… my period was late,” i stuttered out. “but i took two tests and they were negative.” my voice broke at the end of my sentence. i hated that i felt so broken up over this. his love and his presence was more than enough, my happiness wasn’t reliant on being a mother.

“oh,” he pulled me into him, breathing out a sigh of relief and sadness. “baby, it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not,” i sniffed. “i feel so broken.”

“you’re not broken.” he rubbed my back and he squeezed me tighter. “you are so perfect.”

i cried into his shirt for a while longer, and as perfect as he is, he was there with me until i got through it.

•

my new doctor had ordered testing. they wouldn’t have been as concerned, if symptoms outside of not getting pregnant hadn’t also been present. bloodwork, ultrasounds, MRIs. the results were all to be discussed with my doctor at once, and i waited anxiously as the days passed before i met with her.

mingi clutched my hand, rubbing his fingers on my skin reassuringly, my knee bouncing rapidly. i had protested him being present for this appointment, yet he expressed the need to be there for me, and while he respected me immensely, i decided that his accompaniment would be beneficial in the long run. and i was right, as the news delivered by my doctor made my brain pull the parachute cord, and i was outside my body for the entirety of our conversation.

if he was upset, he masked it well, as he held my hand and took care of speaking to the doctor on my behalf. it was hard for me to cry in the presence of medical professionals, so i was frozen, the lump in my throat aching so bad i thought i might throw up. the doctor’s professionalism came across as apathetic, though the sadness in her eyes at having to share the results with me was apparent. bicornuate uterus, external endometrial adhesions, fallopian blockage, hydrosalpinx… she couldn’t fathom how the pain was tolerable for me, or how these things hadn’t been caught sooner. she was apologetic. she said she was sorry the health care system and medical industry had failed me. she said we could discuss other treatment options at a later date when i was ready. for now i was being put on a form of birth control, hormonal drug, contraceptive to help the symptoms and shrink the growths.

back in the car, mingi held me, and i cried.

•

when we returned home, my heart broke at my inability to be present for mingi, but i went straight to bed. i laid down, my blinds closed and the lights out, and covered myself with my blanket. it was cold in my apartment, beginning to rain outside, and i knew that the cool air would be a comfort as my tears burned my face.

the hum of the air conditioning overpowered the sound of footsteps, and i was startled by mingi joining me in bed.

“you don’t have to -”

“i want to,” he interrupted.

his arms slid around me from behind, pulling me close into being his little spoon, and he held me tight, resting his hand under my shirt, right on my lower belly between my hips.

as soon as his warm fingers spread across my skin, i couldn’t stop the tears. he pressed a kiss to my back, his forehead against my shoulder. “i wish i could take your pain away.”

i sniffed. “i’m glad that you don’t have to.”

his lips were warm against my skin, his voice soft and quiet. “baby, i hate to see you in pain.”

i struggled to speak. “i won’t be able to make you a father.”

i felt him take a shaky breath, and he gently grabbed my arm to turn me over and face him. he had taken so much initiative and cared for me so much in the short while that i’d been struggling, so i didn’t resist when he wanted to speak to me directly. i just didn’t want to see his face knowing i was causing him to cry.

but when i looked at him, he was giving me the saddest smile, tears welling in his eyes. “and i won’t be able to make you a mother,” he said, touching my face gently. “it’s not your fault. i wish so badly that i could give you the same.” he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “but we have so much time and so many options.”

i felt unworthy of such love and kindness. “it makes me feel so worthless,” i said. “i knew something was wrong. i just didn’t expect it to be that bad. i didn’t expect my body to be that fucked up.”

he traced his thumb along my cheekbone to wipe a tear away. “it’s not fucked up. nothing about you is fucked up. it is not your fault.” he kissed my nose. “today, i love you more than i ever have. and there is nothing worth more than your love to me.”

•

he wasn’t in bed when i woke up the next day. i figured he had stepped out briefly for something, but i didn’t question or worry. he had a habit of leaving without waking me if he thought he’d be back before i got up for the day.

i checked the time, though, and it was almost noon. i sleep a lot when i’m sad. and i sleep so deep. i could barely keep my eyes open.

mingi held me all night, until i was able to relax. my heart still ached so heavily in my chest. but the panic was gone. i was left with exhaustion and absolute despair. it wasn’t because i felt like my purpose was to be a mother, or that my happiness relied on it, or that i was failing mingi. it was because i was sick, my body was broken, and i had a chronic disease inside of me that made my future unclear and scary.

that was the worst of it. the infertility was just the icing on that cake.

i heard the front door open, and got tense at the same time that i felt comfort from mingi’s return. he was quiet as he moved about the kitchen, his movements gentle and silent for — what i KNEW was — my sake. he would’ve parted the seas for me, had i asked.

i didn’t hear him walking towards the bedroom, yet i heard the sound of a small bell jingling, and stayed still to listen closer. it couldn’t have been his keys, but i was unsure as to what it could’ve been otherwise. i hadn’t heard a sound like it before.

just as i sat up, a little gray and white kitten with a bell hanging from her collar came running into the room.

my mouth immediately fell open in shock, throwing the blankets off of me to join the kitten on the floor. i got to my knees to get a closer look, and behind the kitten followed my sweet mingi.

i looked up at him in awe, and he grinned happily.

“you didn’t,” i said. he joined me on the floor, crossing his legs, sitting right beside me.

he lifted the kitten up and set it in my lap, and i held my hands up, unsure what to do, but the little baby curled up on my lap and stared up at me, bright blue eyes looking calm and curious.

“it’s a girl,” he said. “i had been wanting to surprise you for a while but… after yesterday, i figured it was the right time.”

“oh, mingi,” i whispered, reaching down to pet her. she immediately began purring and leaning into my touch. seeing her up close, i realized her collar was a pink bow, the little gold bell jingling quietly with every movement. i looked back at mingi. he was looking back at me with such love, but also waiting intently to hear about how i felt. “i love you so much. i don’t know what to say.”

“are you happy?” he asked, his concern for my wellbeing so endearing i wanted to melt.

i nodded, reaching out to pull him in, and kiss him softly on his lips. “i am so happy. this is the most amazing thing you could’ve done for me.” i took his face in both hands, looking him in the eyes. “i love you.” another kiss.

he laughed quietly, kissing me back.

“so many things are uncertain,” he said. “and all we can do is wait it out. but i hope that one thing you never question is how much i love you. how in love with you i am.” he reached out to pet the kitten in my lap. “and now, she can be a testament to that.”

he became engrossed in petting her, talking to her sweetly, but i couldn’t look away from him. he was so loving, and so giving, and so perfect. it would take me an infinite amount of lifetimes to ever begin to repay him and it still wouldn’t be enough. i would be forever indebted to his selfless devotion, yet all he asked for in return was my presence. my affection. my love.

and song mingi will forever own my heart. ♡

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,844 Pairing: Negan x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, mild gore (killing walkers) Summary: In lieu of Negan's failing mental health, Michonne looks for options and Y/N steps up to do her share. A/N: This is part 1 of a miniseries (maybe 3?? parts) for Negan that I've been working on! I started it as a one shot, but... you know me lol so here we are! Part 2 will be released next week on Wicked Wednesday! Happy reading! “I’m afraid we’ve got a problem,” Michonne said seriously. You exchanged a glance with Daryl.

“What kind of problem? Like, Annoying Steve is being annoying or a new horror is coming to destroy everything we have and love?” you asked wryly.

Daryl let out an appreciative dry laugh but Michonne remained serious. “Somewhere in the middle, I think,” she said. “It’s about Negan.”

Daryl swore and paced a tight circle. “Course it is. Somehow, it’s still always ‘bout him, ain’t it?” he growled.

Michonne forged ahead. “Gabriel is—fed up with him. There’s no other way to say it. He’s not trying to do anymore counseling and he needs a break. I don’t blame him. He’s taken on everything with Negan since—since Rick—”

You frowned, your brow furrowing as grief roared upwards in all of you. “What exactly is the problem?”

“His mental state is really deteriorating,” Michonne explained. “Being in there by himself all the time, just the odd hour or two outside, no one talking to him—”

“Why should we give a shit?” Daryl asked in a low, dangerous voice. “Ain’t the whole damn point of him bein’ in there so he has to suffer for what he did for the rest of his life? His mental state… Fuck. They fed me one fuckin’ dog food sandwich a day after they shoved me into a fucking closet naked. They —”

You reached over and put your hand on Daryl’s arm before he got further charged up. He stopped abruptly and drew in a long breath.

“I know. I know what he did, but no,” Michonne said. “The point isn’t for him to just suffer. If we do that, we become no better than him.”

Daryl glanced at you and let out an exasperated exhale. “Hell, ya already know what I think about it,” Daryl said firmly. “He shouldn’t even be breathin’ still. ‘M the wrong damn person to ask ‘bout this.”

Michonne sighed and leaned forward on her hands. “I’m just trying to honor Carl and—”

“We know,” you interrupted her quickly. You paused thoughtfully. “I—I can take this on. I’ve dealt with him the least so far out of the three of us. Probably makes it my turn.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “What’re ya gonna do? Rub his back while he cries? Hold his fuckin’ hand? I mean, how do we help somebody like him.”

Michonne shrugged. “A little more conversation to start, I think. He said being alone and the boredom is eating him alive. Maybe we come up with some more things for him to do outside the cell.”

You nodded. “I’ll brainstorm,” you said.

Daryl looked concerned, his eyes flickering over you. “Yer gonna have to be careful. He’s a manipulative asshole. And I dun trust a damn thing ‘bout him. If he can get out, he will. Don’t matter what he’d have to do.”

“I’ll be careful. I’m not an amateur, Daryl,” you said, shooting him a smile.

He nodded, ducking his head. “I know. I just gotta say it.”

“Are you sure?” Michonne asked. “It doesn’t have to be one of us. I can talk to some other people.”

“I’ve got it. I’ll start today. I’ll take him his meals and check on him, make sure he gets some time outside the cell. I’ll take care of it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Flat on his back, Negan heard the door open and shut but he barely moved. His eyes stayed closed and he heaved a heavy sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in some anticipation of annoyance. “Gabey-baby, I am not in the fucking mood for your guidance counselor horseshit today, so why don’t you just turn that tight little toosh around, waltz back out, and leave me the fuck alone…” he said.

“Wow. That was—gross…” you said.

Now, his eyes opened. This was something different. You were different. He swung his legs down and sat on the edge of his cot, his hazel eyes finding you and looking you over. “God Bless America, a change in the fucking monotony,” he said. “Is Gabe still mad at me?”

You approached his cell, tray in hand and nodded. “Yep. In fact, so pissed that he’s officially on vacation from you.”

“Gotta envy that,” Negan quipped. “How do I sign up for one of those?”

“A vacation from yourself?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that’s in the cards.”

“Damn. It was worth asking.” He seemed to be looking you over again and you rolled your eyes.

“My eyes are up here, Negan,” you joked.

His lips curled into a half-smile. “Sorry. But Gabe isn’t exactly my type and I don’t get much chance to look at anything so—”

“Just stop right there, okay?” you interrupted him. You slid his tray through the slot at the bottom of the door and straightened back up.

But Negan wasn’t interested in his breakfast. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You know perfectly well what my name is, Negan,” you countered.

He cocked his head slightly. “You’re right about that,” he admitted. “So, what’s on the agenda?” he asked, finally moving to grab his tray. He returned to his cot and set it on the small side table.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Gabe was always counseling me. Trying to rehabilitate me. Were you a therapist or something in the old world?” He grabbed the small apple and shined it on his shirt before taking a bite.

“No. But we’re perfectly aware that your mental health has taken a nosedive recently,” you said.

Negan let out a low laugh. “And you give a shit?” he asked skeptically. “I nearly fucking destroyed all of you and you’re worried about my mental health?”

You sighed and nodded once, stiffly. “We’re not the same as you, Negan. We’re trying to do better. And Michonne wants to honor Carl’s vision.” You watched as Negan’s face fell. The look in his eyes grew distant and his shoulders slumped slightly.

“Yeah… He was a helluva kid,” Negan said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you replied, taking a seat in the stiff wooden chair set outside his cell. “I watched him grow up from a scared little kid and survive everything this world threw his way. You have no idea what kind of loss that was.”

Negan was looking at you thoughtfully and you were surprised when he didn’t reply, only nodded, and then returned to his apple.

“The agenda is for me to—” you hesitated for a moment. What the hell was the agenda? “For me to help you how I can. I know you’re alone a lot and you probably need some company, a change of scenery every now and then, mental stimulation…”

Negan laughed and smirked. “That’s not the only kind of stimulation I need,” he said.

You glared at him. “Jesus, Negan…” you murmured, rolling your eyes.

“It’s the truth,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m not helping you with that. I guess you’ll just have to try your hardest to think back to one of your past six wives,” you sassed.

The grin stayed on his face. “Five,” he corrected you. Then, the smile faded. “But, uh, only the first really counted.” Negan’s head dropped and you watched him curiously.

He was struggling. You’d never sensed so much truth or vulnerability in a single thing that had left his lips.

“I see,” you said.

For some reason, this made him laugh again. “You know, Gabe used to say that all the time. It’s some of that non-value, non-judgement counselor language.”

You stood up suddenly and sighed. “Finish your breakfast. I’m gonna go do a few things and then I’ll be back. We’re gonna get you out of that cell for a while today.” You fixed a stern and perceptive look on him. “If you think you can behave.”

Negan looked curious. “For you? I might.”

You cocked your head at him and looked unamused. “You will, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Negan laughed again and turned back to his food. “Got it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Why don’t I come with ya?” Daryl asked, watching as you slipped the pistol into your holster.

You looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “You think I can’t handle this?” you asked.

“Not that ya can’t handle it. It’s just—it’s Negan. We all know what he’s fuckin’ capable of,” Daryl said, walking behind you out the front door and across the steps.

“You’re conflating past Negan with Negan now. I just talked to him, and I’m telling you—it’s like he’s been robbed of all his menace and power. He’s been sitting in that cell a long time, Daryl. I don’t think he’s the same and I don’t think he’s going to—to suddenly hit me over the head with a rock or something,” you said.

“But outside the walls? Already? Why dun ya just—just start with somethin’ in here first and see how it goes? That way there are other people around and I can stop by when I can and check in.”

You read the intense concern on Daryl’s face and then nodded. “Alright. We’ll stay in the walls today. But I think part of the problem with him is that he hasn’t seen a single different thing outside in too long. He’s going a little stir crazy in there and I can’t entirely blame him.”

“Yeah, well, he fuckin’ deserves it,” Daryl growled.

“He does. But Michonne is right… we should be trying to be better. Otherwise, we should have just killed him.” You paused, trying to come up with something for him to do that would give him a little exercise and change of pace. “I’ll have him help me clear out that area for the new garden plots. There are some plants to harvest over there anyway before we clear it. It’ll teach him something too.`”

Daryl nodded. “ ‘Kay. I’ll stop by and check in,” he drawled. “Just be careful. Dun let yer guard down.”

“You know I never do.” You turned and headed back toward Negan’s cell.

Negan rose from his seat on his cot, the tray from breakfast sitting empty beside him on the small side table. He watched as you withdrew a ring of keys from your back pocket and fiddled with them a moment as you stood in front of the cell door, eyeing the lock. Was this a good idea?

Negan took a few cautious steps toward you, watching your face intensely. “Am I… getting out on good behavior, warden?” he quipped, flashing you a half-smile. It seemed to draw you back out from your reverie.

“Temporarily,” you replied, finally fitting the key into the lock and turning it. The metallic clunk was striking. “If you can handle it…” you added.

The pistol on your hip wasn’t lost on Negan. He nodded. “I think so,” he said. “What’re we doing? Hard labor?”

“Not so hard,” you said. “But I would appreciate your help with something.”

Negan froze just after stepping out of the cell and fixed a queer look on you. “Appreciate?” he repeated.

You nodded. “Mhm…”

His eyebrows lifted. “You better be careful with the way you’re talkin’ to me, Y/N. I might just fall in love with you,” he chuckled. “I haven’t felt appreciated in… oh, I don’t know—how long have I been in here?” he asked, brushing a hand back through his hair.

“Didn’t Gabriel speak nicely to you?” you asked, shutting the cell door behind him, giving him a questioning glance.

“Well, sure. Or maybe not nicely. He was at least neutral,” Negan said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I think I ruined that though.”

You shook your head and sighed. “Yeah, he’s not pleased with you, Negan,” you agreed. “Look, this is just a test run. We’re staying in Alexandria today, but eventually… I’d like to get you outside of the walls on occasion.” Negan looked shocked. “Obviously, that’s going to take trust,” you emphasized. “But I think it would do you good.” You hesitated, wondering if you should admit this to him, but you decided it would be good for him to hear it. “You’re not the same as you were when you were locked in here. And—I intend on finding out if you can really be rehabilitated. Not that I’m ever going to forget what you’ve done… but there’s got to be more than this,” you said, gesturing to the cell behind him, “in your future. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“You’ve just explained exactly what has me so depressed,” Negan admitted. “I’ve spent most of the last however many fucking years wishing Rick had just killed me.”

Those words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. You gulped and couldn’t help feeling an ache of compassion at his words. Compassion for Negan. What a peculiar thought… You tilted your head toward the door. “Come on. Follow me and stay close. And let me be perfectly clear; I will shoot you if you try to pull any bullshit,” you emphasized.

He nodded, his expression surprisingly serious. “Got it.”

You led him out into the summer sunshine and walked through Alexandria until you reached the overgrown section near the wall that you planned to tackle for the day. The two of you had gotten plenty of stares as you moved down the street, but you noticed that Negan had mostly kept his head down. His shoulders were somewhat slumped and he made no witty comments on the walk, though you caught him closing his eyes to enjoy the breeze or staring up at the blue expanse of sky overhead multiple times.

He stopped beside you, his hands in his pockets, as you stared at the tall grass and brambles ahead and sighed.

“What’re we doin’, boss?” he asked.

“We’re going to start clearing this area out so eventually we can put in some new garden plots. But there’s a little more to it. We used to have some medicinal plants in here before it got overgrown. I’m hoping to find them and save them for transplanting, so we can’t just start ripping everything out.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what’s medicinal and what’s not?” he asked.

“I’m gonna teach you,” you said confidently.

Negan laughed a little at the assertion. “Look, doll… I was a gym teacher in the old world. ‘Not Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman,’” he said.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Wow. That was a deep bench reference,” you said.

He smirked at you. “I was pretty proud of it myself,” he said.

You couldn’t help a dry laugh and small shake of your head. “It’s not that hard. We’ll work together to start and I’ll show you how to identify them. The grasses can all be pulled, but we’ll identify the broadleaf plants and get them ready for transplanting if they’re something we can use.”

Negan looked skeptical but shrugged. “Well, you’re the boss. Not like I’ve got a full schedule,” he said.

“Exactly,” you agreed. There was a reason you weren’t just having him pull all the grass and doing the rest yourself. Negan was smart and not having any mental stimulation was probably contributing a lot to his mental health issues. If you gave him a task that was a little physical and a little mental, you were hoping it’d give him a sense of purpose and productivity.

You got started right away, mainly just pulling the grasses and clearing a large area that remained dotted with forbs. It was summer and the respiration of the plants you were sitting in made the air humid. It wasn’t long before you were wiping at sweat along your hairline and stopping to push wet strands back out of your face. For a while, you worked in silence beside Negan, only speaking to instruct him, but he finally tried to start some conversation on his own.

“So, what the hell did you do in the old world anyway? Were you some kind of plant guru?” he asked, pausing to pull off his gloves for a moment and get a drink from the canteen you’d provided for him.

You paused, standing up to look down at him where he knelt in the grass. He was sweaty too, like you were, and his dark blue shirt was clinging to his back in the heat. “I don’t think I owe you my backstory, Negan,” you said. Your tone wasn’t unkind, but it was a little stern.

“Aw, come on. This is part of that trust-building thing you mentioned earlier,” he said, taking another drink. “I’m just trying to figure you out a little bit,” he said.

You crossed your arms and surveyed him. “So, you can better manipulate me when it’s beneficial to you?” you asked.

“What? No,” he said with surprise, and you almost believed him. “I mean—I currently have no concrete plans to manipulate you…” he admitted, a small bit of jest in his voice. “I’m bored all the time in that fuckin’ cell. I could sure use the conversation. Isn’t that what this is about? My ‘mental health’,” he quoted, shooting an expectant look at you.

You sighed. “What do you wanna know?”

Negan licked his lips and then smiled, thinking about what he wanted to ask, but before he could say a word, bootsteps behind the two of you caused you both to look over to see Daryl standing there.

You went to greet him, pulling off your gloves.

“How’s it goin’?” he asked in an undertone, glancing past you to shoot a glare at Negan.

You shrugged. “Fine. It’s been completely fine so far.”

Daryl nodded, but still looked suspicious. “He ain’t tried anythin’?”

You shook your head, dusting the soil from your gloves. “Nope. We’re just working.”

Daryl nodded, still clearly apprehensive. “Well, s’almost noon. Get him back to his cell by 1 and I’ll bring his meal down,” he drawled.

“I can take care of that,” you offered.

“S’fine. I wanna have a word with him anyway.” He put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze, giving you a small smile. “Yer doin’ enough for him. Be careful.”

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding. “See you later.”

When you turned around, you noticed Negan had been watching the interaction carefully. There was a thoughtful look on his face, but when you simply returned and got back to work, he joined you again in silence. You continued on for another hour or so, managing to clear quite a wide area by the time you needed to get Negan back to his cell for a late lunch. You walked beside him, both of you now dirty and plenty sweaty, and your hand strayed to the handle of your pistol again absently.

Negan noticed and broke the silence that had stretched for what felt like a long time. “You’re a fuckin’ great shot with that thing,” he said, nodding toward the gun.

“What?” you asked, turning to look at him, puzzled.

“I said, ‘you’re a great shot’,” he repeated. You still looked confused. “I noticed… during the war,” he said. “I mean—I noticed you but also your aim.” You stared at him, your brow furrowed. “You almost blew Simon’s fuckin’ head off,” he said with a laugh. “If he hadn’t flinched at the last second…” Negan let out a low whistle.

“How’d you know that was me?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I noticed you.”

You looked… unsettled? Uneasy? Negan couldn’t quite define it, but there was some sort of tension in the air as you walked him back the rest of the way and finally locked him inside his cell again.

He gripped onto the bars and watched you turn away before he managed to get your name out. You turned toward him again, the high arch of your brow inquiring. “Thanks,” he said. “For today. It was the best fuckin’ day I’ve had in a while,” he admitted.

You gave him a baffled look. “I made you work outside in the sun all morning,” you laughed.

“Yeah… but I wasn’t alone. And I’ve had waaaaay worse company. Just—even if you decide you can’t do more than today, I want you to know that it mattered to me. Thanks.”

That look was on your face again, some mix of surprise and bewilderment. Finally, you sighed. “Daryl’s gonna bring you lunch. I’ll see you later, okay, Negan?”

He nodded, still gripping onto the cold, iron bars of his cell, and watched you walk out.

A short time later, Negan had washed his hands and splashed cool water from his basin over his face, dabbing at it with his small scratchy towel, when he heard the door open again. He looked up to see Daryl coming in with a tray of food and a scowl. He set it down by the slot at the bottom of the cell door and pushed it roughly through with the toe of his boot, almost spilling the water cup. Daryl’s expression didn’t change. It was stony and guarded.

Negan eyed him and then wandered over to grab the tray. He did feel hungry for once, something that had been rare for quite some time. When he straightened up, Daryl’s blue eyes were narrow and stinging.

Negan grabbed the apple off his tray and took a big bite. It was sweet and crunchy, satisfying and refreshing after being in the sun all morning. “Something on your mind, Daryl?” Negan asked, a faint smile on his lips.

Daryl stepped closer, right up to the bars. “Yeah. One thing. If ya fuck up, if ya try to hurt Y/N, if ya pull anythin’ I dun like, I don’t give a shit what Michonne or anybody else is tryin’ to do—I don’t give a shit about your rehab, I’ll put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Got it?”

That smile was still on Negan’s face, annoying the shit out of Daryl.

“I mean it, Negan. Ya hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said, taking another bite.

“Good,” he growled, and the archer left.

[zylokv]

TIME OF DEATH, I LOVE YOU. — myoui mina

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

synopsis — for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

word count ! — 14k

— 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 !

SPECIAL CHAPTER !

the scene was a blur of white coats and red streaks, of urgent voices calling out numbers and instructions that mina couldn’t process. her focus stayed on you, pale and unmoving on the stretcher as paramedics pushed you through the hospital corridors. every step felt like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from, her breath hitching with each glance at the blood staining your shoulder, your shirt, and the gurney beneath you.

the oxygen mask over your face rose and fell with shallow breaths, a frail sign of life that both comforted and terrified her. mina’s trembling hand gripped the edge of the stretcher, running to keep up as they wheeled you toward the emergency room. her legs felt like they could give out at any moment, but she didn’t let go. she couldn’t.

her hand clung to the edge of the stretcher, her knuckles bone-white against the metal as she ran to keep up. her legs threatened to give out with each step, but she refused to let go. every glance at you—your face pale and smeared with blood, the oxygen mask pressing against your lips—felt like a stab to her chest.

she hadn’t realized her tears were falling until they dripped onto your arm, mingling with the streaks of red already there.

“move aside,” someone said, reaching for her arm, but she jerked away, her voice sharp and broken. “no. just a moment.”

the stretcher slowed briefly as they reached the emergency room doors, and mina leaned over you, her breath catching as she studied your face. you were slipping away—she could feel it. your eyelids fluttered weakly, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. the sight was unbearable.

“you’re okay,” she whispered, though her voice cracked on the words. she forced herself to speak, her tears falling faster now. her breath hitched as she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “i’m here. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

usually you'd be able to reassure her, not this time. her heart felt like it shattered all over again.

“why?” she choked out, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. “why do you always have to be the hero? why do you always put yourself in harm’s way? don’t you see what you’re doing to me?”

she cupped your face with trembling hands, her fingers slick with your blood. “you don’t get to leave me. not this time. not again.”

her voice cracked as she lowered her forehead to yours, her tears slipping down her cheeks to stain your skin. “you’re going to wake up. you’re going to see me, and i’ll be here. i promise. i’ll be here.”

her words faltered, and for a moment, her mind was dragged back to that day—to the cold hospital corridors, the shouting voices, and the sight of you being taken from her while she stood helplessly, screaming your name. she remembered the desperation, the guilt, the agony of not being able to stay by your side.

not again.

this time, she wouldn’t let them take you from her. she wouldn’t let you wake up to somebody else.

the stretcher began to move again, slipping from her grasp as the nurses rushed to wheel you through the double doors. mina reached out, her hands shaking as if trying to hold onto you, to tether you to her somehow.

her knees buckled as the doors slammed shut, the sound echoing in the empty hallway like a final, resounding blow.

she collapsed onto the cold tile floor, her hands clenching into fists, stained with your blood. silent sobs wracked her body, her chest heaving with the weight of her despair. her tears dripped onto the floor, mixing with the crimson streaks that marked the path you had taken.

“please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “please, don’t leave me. not this time.”

but the hallway offered no answers, only the distant hum of machines and the haunting echo of her cries.

------

the sharp squeak of hurried footsteps echoed down the hospital corridor as your father rushed in, his coat disheveled, his tie hastily loosened. his eyes darted around, searching desperately until they landed on her—mina, slumped against the cold tile wall, her hands trembling in her lap, smeared with blood that wasn’t hers.

“mina,” his voice broke as he approached, his usually composed demeanor shattered by panic. he crouched in front of her, his hands hovering uncertainly before finally gripping her shoulders. “what happened? where are they?”

mina looked up at him, her face pale and streaked with tears, her lips quivering as if the words refused to leave her. she opened her mouth, but all that came out was a choked sob.

“mina,” he pressed, his voice trembling, desperate for answers. “did… did they—” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but his eyes searched hers for confirmation, for denial, for something. “the cops… they said they got shot. is it true?”

mina’s head dipped low, her hair falling over her face as she began to shake. “i… i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking with each word. “it’s my fault. they… they took the bullet for me.”

your father froze, the weight of her words sinking into him like a leaden anchor. his face contorted, a mix of pain and disbelief flashing across his features. “they… they took a bullet for you?” he echoed, his voice strained.

mina nodded, her tears falling freely now. “i told them— i didn't want them... i—” her voice broke entirely, and she buried her face in her bloodied hands, the guilt crushing her like a wave. “i’m so sorry. i couldn’t stop them. i couldn’t—”

your father’s throat tightened as he watched her crumble in front of him. for a moment, he was silent, his own emotions warring between anger, fear, and overwhelming grief. but when he saw the despair etched into mina’s face, his expression softened.

“mina,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “this isn’t your fault. do you hear me? this isn’t your fault.”

she shook her head violently, her sobs growing louder. “it is. it is. if it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have—”

“stop.” his voice was firm but kind, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “listen to me. they made a choice—a reckless, selfless choice. but that’s who they are. they would never let anything happen to the people they care about. you know that.”

mina looked up at him, her face a mess of tears and anguish. he offered her a shaky smile, his own eyes glistening. “they’re strong,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own fear. “and they’re fighting right now. we have to believe that.”

just then, hurried footsteps filled the corridor, and mina’s parents appeared, their faces etched with worry. her mother stopped abruptly, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw her daughter—her usually composed, graceful daughter—reduced to a trembling, crying figure on the hospital floor.

“mina…” her father’s voice wavered as he approached, his brows furrowing deeply. he crouched beside her, his large hand resting on her shoulder. “what happened?”

her mother knelt beside her, cupping her face with both hands. “mina, darling, why are you crying? what happened? tell us.”

mina looked at her parents, her tears spilling over once more as she struggled to form the words. “it’s them,” she whispered hoarsely. “they… they got shot.”

her mother’s gasp echoed through the hallway, and her father’s face darkened, his hand tightening slightly on her shoulder.

“they… they took the bullet for me,” mina admitted, her voice cracking again. “they saved me, and now they’re in there, and i don’t even know if—” she broke down entirely, sobbing into her hands as her mother wrapped her in a tight embrace.

her father glanced at your father, his expression hardening. “how could this happen? how could they let it get this far?”

your father sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own grief. “i don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “but we’re all here now. that’s what matters.”

mina’s sobs filled the hallway, a raw, guttural sound that shook everyone to their core. her mother stroked her hair, whispering soothing words, while her father placed a protective arm around both of them.

for the first time in a long while, mina allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let her emotions consume her without restraint. and in that moment, surrounded by her parents and yours, the cold hospital corridor became a place of shared anguish, silent prayers, and fragile hope. -----

the sterile, blinding light of the operating room illuminated the tense faces of the surgical team. the air was thick with urgency, the steady beeping of the heart monitor providing a fragile sense of stability as they worked.

“patient has a gunshot wound to the shoulder,” the lead surgeon announced, his voice firm but calm. “entry wound is clean, but there’s considerable damage to surrounding tissue and suspected involvement of the subclavian artery. prepare for vascular repair. we need to stop the bleeding now.”

the team moved with precision, instruments clinking as they were passed back and forth. a nurse suctioned away the pooling blood, revealing the torn, reddened flesh of the shoulder.

“blood pressure dropping—80 over 50,” a nurse called out, her voice tight with concern.

“let’s move! i need better visualization,” the surgeon barked, his gloved hands steady as he worked to locate the bullet.

the anesthesiologist glanced at the monitors, adjusting the flow of oxygen. “heart rate’s steady for now, but keep an eye on the blood loss.”

another nurse moved swiftly to hang a fresh unit of blood, the crimson liquid flowing into your veins in a desperate attempt to keep your body stable.

“there it is,” the surgeon said, his voice sharp with focus. with delicate movements, he used forceps to carefully grasp the bullet, lodged dangerously close to the subclavian artery. “this is going to be tricky. if we nick the artery…” he trailed off, the implication heavy in the room.

the team held their collective breath as the surgeon maneuvered the bullet free, a small, jagged piece of metal now gleaming under the harsh surgical lights.

“got it,” he announced, dropping the bullet into a metal tray with a soft clink.

a brief sigh of relief rippled through the room, but it was short-lived.

“massive bleeding from the artery,” another surgeon called out. “clamp! now!”

a vascular clamp was quickly applied, and the lead surgeon’s hands moved deftly to repair the torn artery. sutures were placed with precision, the bleeding gradually slowing as the repair took hold.

“pressure’s stabilizing,” the anesthesiologist reported, her voice lighter. “but they’re not out of the woods yet.”

just as the tension seemed to ease, the heart monitor emitted a sudden, piercing tone—a flatline.

“cardiac arrest!” the anesthesiologist shouted, her hands flying to adjust the oxygen flow.

the room erupted into chaos.

“start compressions, now!” the lead surgeon barked, stepping back to let the nurse press down on your chest with calculated force.

the defibrillator was rolled closer, its cold, clinical whine rising as it charged.

“charging to 200 joules,” the technician announced, their hands moving deftly to attach the pads.

the team collectively held their breath. “clear!”

a jolt coursed through your body, momentarily lifting your chest off the table. all eyes flicked to the monitor, desperate for a sign.

nothing.

“no response,” the anesthesiologist confirmed, her voice tight.

“charge to 300. we’re not losing them!” the surgeon growled, his determination cutting through the fear that gripped the room.

“charging to 300. clear!”

the second shock surged through your body, the room eerily silent except for the sound of the defibrillator and the flatline that still screamed from the monitor.

“come on, fight!” the nurse performing compressions shouted, her voice cracking.

the surgeon’s hands clenched into fists as he stared at the monitor, willing it to flicker back to life.

but it didn’t.

“one milligram of epinephrine,” the anesthesiologist called, injecting the medication into your IV line in a last-ditch effort.

they waited, the flatline echoing in their ears, time stretching unbearably.

the surgeon’s voice was heavy, nearly broken. “resume compressions. we go again.”

the camera of your life seemed to pan away, leaving the sterile lights of the operating room and the frenzied team blurred in the distance. the cold, unrelenting sound of the flatline remained, cutting through the quiet despair. -----

the waiting room had grown eerily quiet, save for the muffled hum of hospital machinery and the occasional announcement over the intercom. mina had finally fallen asleep on one of the stiff chairs, her head resting awkwardly against the armrest. her parents and your father sat nearby, their exhaustion etched into their faces.

your father leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face before reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. when his hand emerged, it held a small, slightly worn photo, the corners bent from years of handling. he stared at it for a moment, a faint, wistful smile tugging at his lips before he slid it across the table toward mina’s parents.

“you know,” he began, his voice low and soft, “they were always fearless, even as a kid. this was taken during their swimming lessons—back when they were training for lifeguard certification. they were only seven, but already saved a kid at that age.”

mina’s mother picked up the photo, her brows knitting together as she studied the image. in it, a young version of you stood at the edge of the water, goggles pushed up onto your forehead, your grin wide and confident. the waves crashed behind them, but you didn’t seem to care—fearless, just as your father had said.

“this beach…” mina’s father murmured, leaning closer to get a better look. his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was trying to place it. “it looks familiar.”

your father nodded, his smile tinged with nostalgia. “it’s a small cove down south. we used to visit every summer when they were younger. they loved the water—spent more time swimming than on the sand. always said they want to save more people some day.”

mina’s mother’s expression suddenly shifted, her lips parting as if a long-buried memory had just surfaced. she glanced at her husband, her voice trembling slightly. “do you remember, darling? that summer… the beach we used to visit every year when mina was a child?”

mina’s father straightened, his eyes widening as realization dawned. “of course. we went there every year until she was about six or seven. but…” his voice trailed off, his brow furrowing. “there was that one time—”

“when she almost drowned,” mina’s mother finished, her voice barely above a whisper. she clutched the photo tighter, her hand trembling. “she was playing in the shallows, but the tide came in so fast. we couldn’t reach her in time. she was pulled under…” her voice broke, and she glanced at her husband, tears welling in her eyes.

“but someone saved her,” mina’s father added, his tone growing steadier. “a child. they pulled her out of the water and brought her back to the shore. by the time we got to her, the child was gone. we never even got their name.”

your father’s eyes sharpened, and he leaned forward. “you thought it wasn't a lifeguard?”

mina’s father nodded. “yes, they had short hair and goggles. we assumed…” he trailed off, glancing back at the photo.

“it was bambam,” mina’s mother said suddenly, her voice tinged with certainty. “at least, that’s what we thought. he’d gone to the beach with his family the same summer. we assumed he was the one who saved her because she mentioned playing with him that day. that’s why they became so close afterward—she believed he’d saved her life.”

your father’s lips parted slightly, his gaze flicking back to the photo. “but it wasn’t bambam,” he murmured, his voice laced with quiet disbelief keeping the information to himself.

your father’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward, his breath catching in his throat. “how old was mina?”

“six,” her mother replied, her voice trembling as she looked at the photo again. “it was that beach. i’m sure of it now. and the child who saved her… they had the same goggles.” she said smiling as she points to the picture of you wearing your goggles

the weight of her words settled over the room like a thick fog. your father exhaled sharply, his hand running through his hair. “so it was them,” he murmured, almost to himself.

but before anyone could say more, the sound of hurried footsteps and urgent voices echoed down the hallway. the three of them turned toward the source of the commotion, their conversation forgotten in an instant.

“we need extra hands in OR-2!” a nurse called out, her voice tight with urgency as she pushed a gurney past the waiting area.

mina stirred at the noise, her eyes fluttering open just as her parents stood. “what’s happening?” she asked groggily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

her mother rushed to her side, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “it’s nothing, sweetheart. just stay here and rest.”

but mina’s eyes narrowed, her gaze darting toward the direction the nurses had gone. “no,” she said, her voice firm despite the hoarseness. she stood abruptly, swaying slightly before steadying herself. “it’s them, isn’t it? something’s wrong.”

“mina, wait—” her father started, but she was already moving, her footsteps unsteady but determined as she followed the voices.

when she reached the double doors leading to the emergency room, they slammed shut in front of her, the red “authorized personnel only” sign glaring back at her like a cruel taunt. she pounded on the door, her fists hitting the cold metal with a desperation that matched the tears streaming down her face.

“let me in!” she cried, her voice breaking as her parents caught up to her, trying to pull her back. “please, let me in! i need to see them!”

“mina,” her mother pleaded, wrapping her arms around her daughter and pulling her away from the door. “you can’t go in there. they’re doing everything they can. you have to trust them.”

but mina shook her head violently, her sobs tearing through her chest. “i can’t just wait out here! i can’t—” her voice cracked, and she slumped against her mother, her strength giving out as the weight of everything came crashing down.

behind the doors, the muffled chaos of the emergency room continued, a cruel reminder of how close you were to slipping away. and all mina could do was cry, her tears soaking into her mother’s shoulder as her father held them both, his own face etched with a pain he couldn’t hide. -----

FLASHBACK

the sun hung high in the cloudless sky, bathing the beach in golden light. the sound of waves crashing against the shore mixed with the laughter of children playing tag and the whistle blows from the lifeguard stations scattered along the coast.

you were only seven, but the confidence you carried made you seem older. the red lifeguard shirt you wore was oversized, practically swallowing your small frame, but you wore it like a badge of honor. you were in training, after all—a junior lifeguard, part of the summer program for kids who wanted to help keep the beach safe.

“all right, everyone, focus!” your coach, a burly man with a booming voice, called out as he demonstrated CPR techniques on a dummy. the group of kids around you nodded earnestly, some practicing the motions on their own.

you were about to ask a question when a piercing scream shattered the idyllic scene.

“mina! someone, help! my daughter—she’s in the water!”

your head snapped toward the sound. a woman stood at the edge of the shore, her hands clutching her face in sheer panic. her cries were frantic, desperate, as she pointed toward the deeper waters.

“please, help her! she’s drowning!”

the beach seemed to freeze for a moment before erupting into chaos. a man—you assumed it was her husband—was already sprinting into the water, his movements frantic as he searched for his daughter. lifeguards nearby grabbed their equipment, blowing whistles and shouting orders to clear the area.

“stay put, all of you!” your coach barked, his eyes narrowing at your group. “this is no place for kids. the professionals will handle it.”

but your feet were already moving before the words registered. adrenaline coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.

“hey! stop!” one of the older lifeguards shouted as you tore past him, but you didn’t listen. your gaze was locked on the water, on the faint glimpse of something—or someone—struggling against the current.

the waves grew stronger the farther you went, and the saltwater stung your eyes, but you pressed on. you could barely make out the small, flailing figure just ahead.

mina.

she was six, her tiny arms thrashing as the tide pulled her under. her face would surface for a fleeting moment before disappearing again, her cries muffled by the roar of the ocean.

your heart pounded as you pushed through the water, your breath labored but determined. the world around you seemed to blur—her mother’s screams, the shouts from the lifeguards, the crashing waves—all of it faded into the background.

you reached out, your fingers brushing against her arm just as another wave dragged her under.

“got you,” you muttered under your breath, lunging forward and grabbing her firmly. her body was cold, her movements weak, but she was still breathing—barely.

“hold on,” you said, though you weren’t sure if she could hear you.

with every ounce of strength you had, you kicked against the current, pulling her toward the shore. the weight of her small frame and the force of the waves made it harder than anything you’d ever done before, but you refused to let go.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, your feet found the sandy bottom. you dragged her the rest of the way, collapsing onto the wet sand as the lifeguards rushed toward you.

you barely registered the commotion—the parents crying out, the lifeguards checking her vitals. all you knew was that she was breathing, her tiny chest rising and falling shakily.

“kid, what were you thinking?” your coach’s voice cut through the haze, equal parts furious and relieved as he grabbed your shoulder.

“i… i couldn’t just watch,” you said, your voice trembling but firm.

he stared at you for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “go back to the group. now.”

you glanced back at the girl—mina, though you didn’t know her name at the time—as her parents gathered her into their arms, tears streaming down their faces. her mother held her close, while her father looked up at the lifeguards, his gratitude spilling out in hurried words.

you didn’t stay to hear it. slipping away quietly, you returned to your group, your coach’s sharp gaze following you the entire time.

it wasn’t until much later that you realized you hadn’t even introduced yourself. maybe fate will bring you back together and you can save her life again? -----

the morgue was unbearably cold, the kind of chill that seeped into bones and refused to leave. the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting an almost sickly hue over the room.

on the steel table, a body lay motionless, shrouded in a pristine white sheet. the stillness in the room was deafening, broken only by the subdued murmurs of two doctors standing at the foot of the table.

“no pulse,” one of them said quietly, their voice flat yet tinged with exhaustion. their gloved hand slipped away from beneath the sheet, as if reluctant to confirm the obvious.

“it’s over,” the other replied, their tone heavy with resignation as they glanced at the monitor nearby. the jagged peaks of a heartbeat were absent, replaced by an unwavering flatline.

“time of death…” the first doctor paused, their gaze lowering to the clipboard in their hand. “1:43 a.m.” the words hung in the air, suffocating, final.

the second doctor let out a small sigh, setting down the stethoscope they’d been holding. their hands moved to remove the sheet, revealing just enough of the figure beneath to confirm details for the report. the stark contrast of lifeless pale skin against the sterile steel table felt almost too vivid under the artificial light.

“they lost too much blood,” one of them murmured, more to themselves than anyone else. “there was nothing else we could’ve done.”

there was no reply. only the faint scratching of a pen against paper as the first doctor began documenting the events, their writing meticulous and methodical, but their expression betrayed the weight of the moment.

“what a shame,” the second doctor finally muttered, shaking their head. “so young.”

the first doctor nodded absently, flipping to the patient file and double-checking details for the report. their fingers lingered on the edge of the page before finally turning it.

there, in stark, clinical handwriting, was the name:

kim jennie.

-----

the white walls of the waiting room seemed to close in as time stretched unbearably thin. mina sat with her head buried in her hands, her trembling fingers curling into her hair. her parents sat beside her, silent but tense, their eyes fixed on the swinging double doors that separated them from whatever fate was being decided beyond.

your father stood, pacing back and forth, his hands fidgeting with the edges of his coat. his usual calm and composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. instead, he looked as though he were barely holding himself together, the strain of the situation etched deeply into his face.

then, the double doors burst open.

two surgeons and a nurse emerged, their scrubs streaked with crimson, their faces pale and worn with exhaustion. the lead surgeon, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp, clinical gaze, scanned the room briefly before stepping forward.

“mr. and myoui family,” he began, his voice calm but laced with a weight that made the air in the room grow heavier.

mina shot up from her seat, her parents following suit, while your father froze mid-step. the sight of the blood-streaked gloves made their stomachs churn.

“how are they?” your father asked, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

the surgeon pulled off his gloves slowly, methodically, the motion almost maddeningly deliberate. “the situation was... critical,” he started, his eyes meeting theirs, but his expression gave away nothing.

mina felt her knees buckle, her mother’s hand quickly steadying her. “please,” mina’s voice cracked, raw and desperate. “just tell us. are they... are they okay?”

the surgeon let out a slow breath, glancing briefly at the others before continuing. “we encountered severe complications—”

mina’s heart dropped, the room spinning.

“—but we managed to stabilize them in time.”

it took a moment for the words to sink in. your father blinked, as though trying to process what he had just heard. “they’re... they’re okay?” he asked, his voice trembling.

the surgeon nodded. “they lost a significant amount of blood, but the bullet missed any major arteries. we were able to stop the internal bleeding and repair the damage. they’re not out of the woods yet, but they’re alive and stable. they’ll need close monitoring and time to recover.”

mina let out a strangled sob, her hands flying to her mouth as tears streamed down her face. her parents wrapped their arms around her, relief flooding through them in waves.

your father staggered back, his legs giving way as he sank into a chair. his hands covered his face, his shoulders shaking as the tension that had gripped him finally broke.

“can we see them?” mina’s father asked, his voice thick with emotion.

the surgeon hesitated, glancing back at the doors. “not yet. they’re still in recovery, and we need to monitor them closely for the next few hours. but i assure you, we’ll let you know as soon as they can have visitors.”

mina nodded, her tears unstoppable but now tinged with relief.

the surgeon offered a small, reassuring smile, though his exhaustion was evident. “they’re lucky,” he added, his voice soft. “it was a close call, but they’re strong. they fought through it.”

as he turned and walked back through the doors, the weight in the room began to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of hope.

mina collapsed back into her seat, her body trembling with the aftershocks of fear and relief. “thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, though she wasn’t sure who she was thanking—the surgeon, the universe, or whoever had been listening to her silent prayers.

the waiting room fell quiet again, but this time, the silence was different. it wasn’t the oppressive weight of dread but the tentative stillness of hope, fragile and delicate, yet unwavering.

-----

mina sat slumped in the chair by your bed, her face buried in her hands. the hospital room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the constant beeping of the heart monitor. her hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to her tear-streaked cheeks.

"you know, you could at least twitch or something," she muttered, her voice muffled. "just to let me know you’re still in there. but no, you have to be dramatic about it."

she let out a humorless laugh, looking up at you with red, swollen eyes. "you’re probably loving this, aren’t you? making me sit here, worrying myself sick while you take a nap. typical."

she reached out to brush a strand of hair off your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment. "you always were stubborn," she murmured, her voice softening. "but this is just cruel."

time passed in a blur, the hospital room becoming a constant in her life. her parents had tried coaxing her to leave, even for just a few hours, but she refused. the thought of not being there when you woke up—because you would wake up—was unbearable.

hiro had visited once, his tiny voice breaking through the heavy silence. “mama, when will they wake up?” he’d asked, his big eyes filled with worry.

mina knelt to his level, forcing a smile despite the lump in her throat. "soon, sweetheart," she said, brushing a hand through his hair. "they’re just resting."

but as soon as he left with momo, mina’s resolve crumbled again. she refused food, refused sleep, refused to leave your side. her parents had to practically force her to drink water.

"you look like a zombie, mina," sana had said, plopping down in the chair opposite her. "honestly, if they wake up and see you like this, they might pass out again."

mina had glared at her, too tired to come up with a witty retort. "thanks for the pep talk, sana."

"anytime," sana had replied, leaning back in her chair. "but seriously, eat something. you’re not helping anyone by starving yourself."

now, hours later, mina was back to silently begging you to wake up. she leaned over the bed, her hands gripping the rails as tears welled up in her eyes.

"if you can hear me," she whispered, her voice shaking, "just… just give me something. a twitch, a blink, anything. please."

suddenly, your fingers twitched. mina froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

"no way," she breathed, staring at your hand like it had just performed a magic trick. then your eyes fluttered open, and she gasped, stumbling back so hard she almost tripped over the chair.

"you’re awake," she whispered, her voice trembling. she turned, ready to run out and call for a doctor, but a weak tug on her wrist stopped her.

mina turned back, her eyes wide as you held onto her. your breathing mask muffled your words, but she could still make them out. "are you… okay?"

she blinked, her jaw dropping. "am i okay?" she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "you almost died, and you’re asking if i’m okay?"

your lips curved into the faintest smile. "you look like… you haven’t slept in days."

"because i haven’t!" she snapped, though the tears streaming down her face betrayed her anger. "do you think I’ve been here doing yoga? i’ve been losing my mind, waiting for you to wake up!"

you squeezed her hand weakly, your eyes soft despite the exhaustion clouding them. "sorry… didn’t mean to worry you."

"oh, you didn’t mean to—" she cut herself off with a shaky laugh, her emotions swinging wildly between relief and frustration. she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "you’re impossible."

your smile faded as you gazed at her, your voice barely above a whisper. "mina… are you okay?"

her breath caught, her hands trembling as she gripped the bed rails. "why are you worried about me?" she choked out, her voice cracking. "you’re the one who almost—"

she couldn’t finish the sentence, the weight of it too much to bear. instead, she collapsed into the chair beside you, her head resting against your arm as her tears soaked into the hospital gown.

"i love you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "and you’re not allowed to scare me like this again. do you hear me? never again."

-----

you leaned back against the headboard, exhaustion sinking deep into your bones. the machines around you hummed softly, their steady rhythm the only sound in the quiet hospital room. mina sat at the edge of your bed, her freshly washed hair falling over her shoulders, her fingers twisting the edge of her sweater.

she hadn’t spoken much all day, but you could feel the storm brewing inside her. when she finally broke the silence, her voice was trembling, barely above a whisper.

"this is all my fault."

you turned your head, your brows furrowing. "mina—"

"don’t," she interrupted, her voice sharp and cracking all at once. she looked up, her eyes rimmed red, tears glistening like they were ready to fall at any moment. "don’t tell me it’s not. if i hadn’t… if i hadn’t done what i did, none of this would’ve happened."

you stared at her, unsure of how to respond. the weight of her guilt was suffocating, and you could feel it pressing down on both of you.

"you wouldn’t be here," she continued, her voice breaking. "you wouldn’t be lying in this bed, hooked up to these machines, barely able to breathe on your own. i did this to you."

"mina, stop," you said softly, your voice carrying the kind of weariness that only comes from surviving something that should’ve ended you.

she ignored you, her tears spilling over as she buried her face in her hands. "i ruined everything. i destroyed us. and now… now you’re suffering because of me."

your chest ached—not just from the physical pain but from the sight of her breaking down in front of you. you reached out, your hand weak and trembling, and placed it over hers. "mina, listen to me."

she shook her head, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. "how can you even look at me? after everything i did… i betrayed you. i broke your trust. and now i’m watching you pay the price for my mistakes."

"mina," you said, your voice firmer this time. she stopped, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours, and you could see the sheer depth of her guilt staring back at you.

"this isn’t just your fault," you said quietly. her eyes widened, and you pressed on before she could interrupt. "it’s mine too."

her mouth opened, but no words came out. you took a shaky breath, willing yourself to say what you’d been avoiding.

"before the accident… even before i lost my memory, i forgot something important. i forgot how much you mean to me. i let myself get so blindsided by what you did that i decided to forget how much i loved you. i forgot to be there for you… through thick and thin, like we promised."

mina’s breath hitched, her hands flying to her mouth as if the words had physically struck her.

"i convinced myself that it didn’t matter anymore," you continued, your voice cracking. "that we didn’t matter. and i let that anger consume me. i stopped fighting for us, mina. i stopped loving you."

she let out a choked sob, shaking her head in disbelief. "no… you didn’t deserve this. none of this is your fault."

"it is," you said, your voice trembling. "because love isn’t just about being there when it’s easy. it’s about being there when it’s hard—when it hurts. and i wasn’t. i let my pride and my pain get in the way of us."

"but i pushed you away," she whispered, her tears streaming freely now. "i made the mistake. i broke us."

"and i let us stay broken," you said, your voice soft but resolute. "mina, we both failed. we hurt each other. but we’re still here. we’re still breathing. and that has to mean something."

her shoulders trembled as she wiped at her tears, her voice shaking. "how can you still say that? after everything i’ve done… how can you still believe in us?"

"because we made a promise," you said, your gaze locking with hers. "through sickness and health, right? through thick and thin. i forgot that before, but i’m not forgetting it now."

mina let out a shaky laugh, the sound tinged with disbelief and sorrow. "you’re too good for me," she whispered, her hands reaching out to cup your face. "you always have been."

"and you’re too stubborn to give up," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the tears in your eyes. "so let’s stop pretending like this is the end. we’ve got too much left to fight for."

she stared at you, her lips trembling as fresh tears spilled over. then, slowly, she leaned in, her forehead pressing against yours.

"i’m sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "i’m so sorry for everything."

"me too," you said, your voice barely audible. "but we’re here now. and that’s what matters."

for a moment, the weight of everything—of the past, the pain, the mistakes—lifted just enough for hope to shine through. and for the first time in what felt like forever, you both allowed yourselves to believe in the possibility of something better.

-----

you were propped up on the hospital bed, still stiff and sore from the accident. mina sat on the chair beside you, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through some article. the quiet hum of the machines filled the room, and you were grateful for the rare moment of peace.

“you look like you’re trying not to fall asleep,” you muttered, breaking the silence.

mina glanced at you, her brow arching. “and you look like you’re trying not to breathe too hard. what’s your point?”

you snorted, instantly regretting it as a sharp pain shot through your chest. you winced, clutching your side. “ow. damn it, mina, don’t make me laugh.”

mina’s teasing demeanor vanished instantly. “hey, are you okay?” she asked, leaning closer. "i didn't even say anything funny!"

“your face is funny enough,” you shot back weakly, smirking.

mina rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “wow, the audacity of someone who can’t even sit up straight without looking like they’re about to pass out.”

despite the pain, you chuckled again, wincing as you did. “stop, seriously. my body hurts. i think even my eyelashes are sore.”

mina bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “fine, fine. no more jokes. you’re too fragile right now.”

“fragile? i’m indestructible,” you retorted, though your grimace immediately undermined your words.

she shook her head, finally letting out a laugh—soft, warm, and entirely unintentional. the sound was enough to make your chest feel lighter, even if it physically hurt.

“you’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head fondly.

“and you’re still here,” you replied, your voice softer now.

before she could respond, a stifled noise echoed from the hallway. neither of you paid it much attention, too caught up in your exchange.

“fine,” mina said, crossing her arms dramatically. “i’ll just sit here and be silent, then. you can entertain yourself.”

“finally,” you said, leaning back against the pillows, trying to hide your grin.

she stared at you for a few seconds, then muttered, “you’re insufferable.”

you couldn’t help it—you laughed again, only to immediately groan in pain. “stop it, seriously,” you said, wincing.

“stop what? i’m not even trying!” mina said defensively, though the smile on her face betrayed her amusement.

what neither of you realized was that you weren’t alone. just outside the slightly ajar door stood mina’s parents, your father, momo, and sana, all watching silently with amused expressions.

“look at them,” mina’s dad whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“they’re falling in love all over again,” your dad added, his voice tinged with warmth.

“ugh, it’s so cute it hurts,” sana said quietly, clutching her chest dramatically.

momo, on the other hand, looked completely indifferent to the emotional scene unfolding in front of her. “wait, my bag’s still inside,” she muttered, squinting at the room.

“seriously, momo?” sana groaned, smacking her arm lightly. “love is literally in the air, and you’re worried about your bag?”

“well, it’s a nice bag,” momo muttered defensively, crossing her arms.

“let’s give them some space,” mina’s dad said, smiling as he placed a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “we’ve got some time to grab a meal anyway. i’m sure they could use the quiet.”

“yes! food!” momo’s eyes lit up, her previous concerns about the bag instantly forgotten. “where are we going?”

sana rolled her eyes but followed the group as they began to leave, herding momo along like an unruly child.

“don’t forget your bag,” sana muttered sarcastically.

“oh, thanks for reminding me!” momo chirped, turning back briefly before sana dragged her away.

“sorry about her. she’s been like this since middle school.” sana mumbles shaking her head in disapproval

“have not!” momo protested, but sana didn’t let her finish, dragging her out of the hall.

mina’s mom stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “let’s leave them alone. they deserve this moment.”

with that, the group quietly stepped away, though not without sana muttering something about momo’s terrible sense of priorities.

inside the room, completely unaware of your guy's audience, you and mina finally fell into a comfortable silence. as the door clicked shut, you glanced at her, watching the soft smile playing on her lips.

“what?” she asked, catching your gaze.

“nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. “just… thanks for being here.”

she reached out, her fingers brushing yours lightly. “where else would i be?”

the moment lingered, warm and full of unspoken words, as the world outside seemed to melt away.

love was definitely in the air.

-----

you leaned back against the headboard, finally able to sit up without wincing every two seconds. mina perched on the edge of the bed, the tray of soup balanced on her lap. she held up a spoonful, her expression somewhere between patient nurse and smug caretaker.

“okay, open up,” she said, her tone light but commanding.

you raised an eyebrow. “you know, you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“and you’re really stalling,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes playfully. “now eat before i dump this on your lap.”

you sighed dramatically, opening your mouth. the soup was warm and soothing, but you made a show of smacking your lips like a child. “wow, this is... edible.”

“oh, you did not just insult my soup,” mina said, her jaw dropping in mock offense. “you know i made this from scratch, right?”

“scratch, huh?” you teased, pretending to examine the spoon. “does ‘scratch’ mean opening a can now?”

mina gasped, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “that’s it. starve.”

you reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could retreat. “okay, okay! i take it back. it’s amazing. the best soup i’ve ever had. michelin-star worthy.”

“that’s what i thought,” she said, smirking as she picked up the spoon again.

after a few more bites, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“what’s so funny?” mina asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“this just feels so... different,” you admitted, leaning back. “last time she tried to feed me like this it was like my body rejected her.”

mina’s eyes widened. “wait—are you serious?”

“it was jennie,” you admitted with a chuckle. “she wouldn’t stop fussing over me. i couldn’t stand it.”

mina couldn’t hold back her laughter, a soft, melodic sound that filled the room. “so you were a menace, huh?”

“a certified menace,” you confirmed, smirking. “but with you? it’s easy. comforting, even.”

her laughter faded, replaced by a soft smile that made your chest ache in a completely different way. she didn’t say anything, but her eyes spoke volumes.

“you’re full of surprises,” she said after a moment, scooping up another spoonful.

“oh, you have no idea,” you replied, leaning forward slightly.

she tilted her head. “oh? care to elaborate?”

“did you know i used to train to be a lifeguard?” you said, leaning back with a smug grin.

mina blinked. “a lifeguard? you?”

“yep. saved a couple of lives,” you said casually, as if it were no big deal.

“are you sure you didn’t just sit on the chair looking cool with sunglasses?” she teased.

“hey, i’ll have you know i was fully certified,” you said, feigning offense. “you’re looking at a hero, mina.”

she snorted, shaking her head. “all right, hero. what else?”

“well,” you said, pretending to think, “i was also a karate and boxing champion. black belt.”

mina stared at you, her jaw dropping. “are you even real?”

“and,” you continued, ignoring her disbelief, “i played a few instruments growing up. piano, guitar, drums—you name it.”

she groaned, throwing her head back. “is there anything you didn’t do?”

“i’m just answering your questions,” you said with a shrug. “oh, and i was also class president. twice.”

mina narrowed her eyes. “okay, now you’re just bragging.”

“hey, you asked,” you said, smirking.

she groaned, throwing her head back. “how am i supposed to compete with that?”

“you don’t have to,” you said, your tone softening. “you’re already perfect.”

mina froze, her cheeks turning pink. “stop being cheesy.”

“i mean it,” you said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “you’re everything, mina.”

mina paused, her hand stilling for just a moment before she let out a small laugh. “you’re just saying that because i’m feeding you.”

“no, seriously,” you said, sitting up a little more. “i feel like... i don’t know enough about you. like, really know you.”

she blinked, clearly caught off guard. “you already know plenty.”

“not really,” you said, shaking your head. “we jumped straight into this marriage without... taking the time. and i want to know everything, mina. the good, the bad, the embarrassing.”

mina hesitated, her gaze dropping to the bowl in her hands. “everything?”

“everything,” you repeated, your voice soft.

she exhaled slowly, setting the bowl down on the bedside table. “okay... but don’t laugh.”

“no promises,” you said, grinning.

she rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her face. “well... when i was a kid, i wanted to be a ballerina. i even took lessons for years.”

“that tracks,” you said, nodding. “you’re ridiculously graceful.”

mina’s cheeks turned pink. “yeah, well... i quit when i was thirteen. i didn’t think i was good enough.”

“that’s impossible,” you said immediately. “you’re good at everything.”

“i’m not,” she said quietly. “but thanks for thinking that.”

you frowned, leaning forward a little. “what else? tell me more.”

she bit her lip, thinking. “i used to collect plushies. like, obsessively. my entire bed was covered in them. my parents used to joke that there wasn’t room for me to sleep.”

you laughed, the image of a younger mina surrounded by plushies too adorable to handle. “do you still have them?”

“some,” she admitted, smiling. “but most of them are in storage.”

“we’re bringing them out,” you said firmly. “i want to see them all, and i want to know what you named them.”

mina laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that made your chest ache in the best way. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you married me,” you pointed out, grinning.

she shook her head, but the smile didn’t leave her face. “fine. your turn again.”

“what else do you want to know?” you asked.

she tilted her head, studying you. “what’s something embarrassing about you? something no one else knows?”

you groaned, leaning back. “you’re really gonna make me do this, huh?”

“absolutely,” she said, smirking.

“okay, fine,” you said, sighing. “when i was ten, i tried to impress this kid at school by climbing a tree. long story short, i got stuck, cried for half an hour, and had to be rescued by a fireman.”

mina burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “you’re kidding.”

“i wish,” you said, grinning despite yourself. “it was the most humiliating day of my life.”

“that’s amazing,” she said, still laughing. “i can’t believe you’ve been a hero and a damsel in distress.”

“hey, it’s called range,” you said, smirking.

her eyes softened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. then, almost instinctively, you leaned forward, and she met you halfway.

the kiss was gentle at first, her lips warm against yours. but as the moment deepened, it became something more—something raw and unspoken.

when you finally pulled back, mina’s face was flushed, her eyes wide. “you... you’re supposed to be resting.”

“can’t help it,” you said, grinning. “you’re impossible to resist.”

mina buried her face in her hands, groaning. “you’re going to be the death of me.”

“better me than your soup,” you teased.

“that’s it,” she said, reaching for the tray. “i’m done feeding you.”

you laughed, grabbing her wrist again. “okay, okay! truce?”

she laughed softly, shaking her head. “you’re annoying.”

“and you’re perfect,” you said, grinning.

“stop,” she said, rolling her eyes. but the way she squeezed your hand told you she didn’t really want you to.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt exactly as it should.

-----

hiro climbed up on the bed with an air of determination, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the blanket as he hauled himself up beside you. “are you still sick?” he asked, tilting his head, his round eyes wide with concern.

“not sick, just tired,” you replied, ruffling his hair gently. “but i’m getting better, thanks to you and your mom.”

“me?” hiro asked, pointing to himself.

“yeah, you,” you said, grinning. “your hugs are magical, didn’t you know?”

his face lit up. “i have magic hugs?”

“the best ones,” you said, pulling him closer for a quick squeeze.

hiro giggled, settling in beside you. “mommy said i can stay for a little while. can i show you something?”

“of course,” you said, leaning back against the headboard. “what do you got?”

hiro pulled out a small stack of drawings from behind his back, spreading them out proudly on your lap. “i drew these! this one is you, and this one is mommy, and this one is me!”

you picked up the drawing of yourself, smiling at the colorful stick figure wearing a cape. “you made me a superhero?”

“because you are!” he said earnestly. “you saved mommy and me.”

your chest tightened, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “thanks, buddy. this is the best drawing I’ve ever seen.”

“really?” he beamed.

“really,” you said, reaching for another drawing. “what’s this one?”

“that’s us at the beach!” hiro said excitedly. “we’re building a sandcastle, and mommy is bringing us snacks!”

“sounds like a perfect day,” you said, smiling. “we’ll have to make that happen when I’m better.”

hiro’s eyes lit up. “promise?”

“promise,” you said, holding out your pinky. he linked his tiny pinky with yours, sealing the deal.

after a few more minutes of showing you his artwork and telling you elaborate stories about his drawings, hiro started to yawn.

“getting sleepy?” you asked, brushing his hair back gently.

“no,” he mumbled, but his eyelids were already drooping.

“come here,” you said, shifting slightly to make room for him. he curled up beside you, resting his head on your chest.

within minutes, his breathing evened out, and you realized he’d fallen asleep. you couldn’t help but smile, your hand resting lightly on his back.

you watched him for a moment, your chest tightening with a warmth you couldn’t quite describe. it felt… perfect.

a soft click made you open them again, and you spotted mina standing in the doorway, her phone in hand.

“are you taking pictures of us?” you whispered, raising an eyebrow.

“maybe,” she said, grinning. “you two are too cute to resist.”

“blackmail material for when he’s older?” you teased.

“absolutely,” mina said, stepping closer. her gaze softened as she looked at the two of you. “but mostly because I don’t want to forget this moment.”

“come join us,” you said, patting the empty space beside you.

she hesitated, then shook her head. “i don’t want to wake him. besides, you both look too peaceful.”

you smiled, your heart swelling as you looked down at hiro. “thanks for giving me this.”

mina’s eyes glistened, and she leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “thank you for being his hero.”

“always,” you murmured, closing your eyes again.

hiro had curled up beside you, his little hand clutching yours as he let out soft, steady breaths. you adjusted the blanket over him, careful not to wake him, and leaned back against the pillows. your own eyelids felt heavy, the steady rhythm of hiro’s breathing lulling you closer to sleep.

just as your head began to droop, you felt the bed shift slightly. mina had slipped in beside you, moving with practiced care. she settled on hiro’s other side, her movements slow and deliberate.

“you’re sneaky,” you mumbled sleepily, cracking one eye open.

“shh,” she whispered. “go back to sleep.”

you didn’t have to be told twice. within moments, you’d drifted off, the warmth of hiro tucked against you and mina’s presence on the other side filling the space with quiet comfort.

at some point, mina must have nodded off, too. she lay with her head resting against your shoulder, her arm draped protectively over hiro. the three of you looked like the picture of peace, nestled together as if the world outside didn’t exist.

the door creaked open softly, and a muffled gasp broke the silence.

“oh. my. god,” momo whispered dramatically.

“look at this,” sana chimed in, her voice equally hushed but tinged with excitement.

“don’t wake them,” your dad said, though he didn’t stop himself from pulling out his phone.

mina’s parents leaned in closer, their faces lit up with soft smiles. “it’s perfect,” her mom whispered, snapping a photo.

“we should frame this,” momo said, her face practically glowing with mischief.

“or make it the family holiday card,” sana added with a smirk.

“don’t be ridiculous,” mina’s dad said, though even he was taking pictures with his phone.

hiro stirred slightly but didn’t wake, and neither did you or mina. the family quickly tiptoed out of the room, whispering excitedly among themselves.

the three of you stayed sound asleep, unaware of the impromptu photo session that had just taken place.

and somewhere in the haze of sleep, mina shifted closer to you, her head resting comfortably against yours as her hand brushed against your arm. if she was awake, she might have blushed. but for now, she was content, her family whole and happy in the quiet glow of the moment.

-----

the day was perfect for a family outing—blue skies, a gentle breeze, and the sound of kids laughing echoing across the park. hiro was practically buzzing with energy, darting toward the playground the moment you stepped foot onto the grass. you and mina strolled behind him, fingers brushing occasionally as you walked.

settling onto a bench near the jungle gym, you watched hiro scale a climbing wall that was clearly meant for older kids. “look at him go,” you said with a chuckle, shaking your head. “he thinks he’s training for the olympics or something.”

mina smirked, resting her chin in her hand. “he gets it from you. always aiming higher than necessary.”

“oh, so now it’s my fault?” you teased, nudging her gently.

she laughed softly, and for a moment, everything felt easy, natural. her hand slid toward yours, her fingers brushing over your palm, but as they grazed the spot where your wedding ring used to sit, her smile faltered. she quickly pulled her hand back, tucking it into her lap.

before you could say anything, a cheerful voice cut through the air.

“well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker!”

you turned to see nayeon, her signature bright smile lighting up her face as she approached. “wow, it’s really you!”

“nayeon?” you said, grinning. “what are you doing here?”

“just enjoying the day,” she replied, pulling you into a friendly hug. “and look at you! you’re looking so much better than the last time i saw you.”

mina’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she watched the interaction, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the bench.

“uh, nayeon, this is my wife, mina, you've met her before.” you said, gesturing toward her.

“mina! i’ve heard so much about you,” nayeon said, extending a hand. “it’s great to meet you again.”

mina smiled politely, though her grip was firmer than necessary. “likewise.”

“nayeon’s an acquintance,” you explained, glancing at mina. “we met—”

“at a bar,” nayeon interrupted with a laugh. “you remember that? you were sitting there looking like the world had ended, and i had to save you from being lonely?”

mina’s smile tightened. “how… kind of you.”

“it was nothing,” nayeon said with a shrug. “but honestly, you were a mess back then. i’m glad to see you’ve got your life together now.”

mina’s eyebrow twitched. “yes, well, they’ve had plenty of support.”

nayeon didn’t seem to notice the subtle edge in mina’s tone, but you definitely did. when nayeon finally left after some more reminiscing, mina turned to you, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

“so… she’s just a friend, huh?”

“mina,” you said with a chuckle, “nayeon is like ten years older than me.”

“and?” mina shot back, her lips pursed. “some people don’t care about age. and the way she was looking at you…”

“she wasn’t looking at me any particular way,” you replied, fighting a grin.

mina huffed, crossing her arms tighter. “she practically sparkled every time you smiled at her. i’m surprised she didn’t sit on your lap.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at her jealousy, leaning in closer. “are you seriously jealous right now?”

“i’m not jealous,” she muttered, though the slight blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.

“you’re adorable when you’re jealous,” you teased, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

she turned her head away, trying to hide her growing smile. “stop.”

“you’re even cuter when you’re trying to act unbothered,” you added, earning a playful shove from her.

“i’m serious. stop,” she said, though her laughter bubbled up despite herself.

back home, hiro was already knocked out on the couch, clutching a stuffed animal mina had sneakily bought for him earlier in the day. you smiled as you carefully carried him to his room, tucking him in with a soft blanket.

“he had a good day,” you said quietly as you joined mina in the living room.

“we all did,” she replied, her expression warm. but then, she fidgeted, her hands tucked behind her back.

“what’s going on?” you asked, tilting your head.

she stepped closer, revealing what she’d been hiding—a small velvet box. your heart skipped a beat as she opened it to reveal your wedding ring, polished and gleaming like new.

“i’ve been meaning to give you this,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “i know i hurt you. i know i broke every promise i made when i gave you this ring. but… i want us to start again. to rebuild everything we lost. i still want forever with you. will you… will you take this back?”

your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the ring. her eyes were teary but resolute, her hands trembling ever so slightly.

“you know,” you started, a teasing smile breaking the tension, “for someone who’s not jealous, you sure know how to make a grand gesture.”

she laughed through her tears, swatting your arm lightly. “don’t ruin the moment!”

“i’m not,” you said, your voice softening. “but you don’t have to do all this. it’s not about the ring, mina. it’s about you being here, trying, and loving me.”

her lips quivered as you took the ring from her hand, sliding it back onto your finger. before you could say anything else, she surged forward, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. it was as if all her fears, regrets, and hopes were poured into that single moment.

when you finally pulled away, you grinned. “i’m still surprised you kept it all this time.”

“well… i almost threw it into the han river once,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “but momo stopped me.”

“remind me to thank momo later,” you said, laughing softly.

“you better,” she teased, resting her forehead against yours. for the first time in a long while, it felt like everything was falling into place.

-----

the myoui corporation department store was bustling with activity, its modern grandeur commanding attention from every shopper who walked through its pristine halls. mina strode confidently across the glossy floor, her tailored suit accentuating her poise as her assistant, dahyun, trailed closely behind with a tablet in hand.

“dahyun,” mina began, her voice calm yet firm, “i want the third-floor atrium redesigned. we’ve been catering too much to exclusivity. it’s time we incorporated spaces that families with young children can enjoy—play areas, family lounges, and nursing rooms. focus on accessibility and comfort.”

dahyun glanced up from her tablet, blinking in mild surprise. “that’s... not exactly in line with the previous strategy, president myoui.”

mina stopped walking, turning slightly to fix dahyun with a look that was both patient and pointed. “are you suggesting it’s a bad idea?”

“not at all!” dahyun hurriedly replied, her cheeks coloring slightly. “i’ll make sure the revisions are prepared and ready for review.”

mina nodded, resuming her pace. “good. i want the new designs by next week. make it practical, but maintain the quality we’re known for.”

as dahyun scribbled notes furiously, she dared to glance at her boss’s expression. something about mina seemed... softer today. “if you don’t mind me asking, president myoui,” dahyun ventured cautiously, “what brought on this sudden focus on family spaces?”

mina didn’t answer immediately. her gaze softened as she thought of hiro and the way he grinned so brightly whenever they went to the park. “priorities change, dahyun,” she said quietly. “let’s leave it at that.”

meanwhile, across the bustling department store, you were walking with your legal team, engrossed in discussions about upcoming contract negotiations. it had been a few weeks since you’d taken on the role of legal director, and though you were still settling into the position, you couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction that came with it.

“we’ll finalize the terms for the lease renewal by the end of the month,” one of your team members was saying when you glanced up and spotted mina.

there she was, effortlessly commanding attention as always, her team hanging on her every word. beside her, dahyun was typing furiously, clearly struggling to keep up.

you didn’t think twice. excusing yourself mid-conversation, you picked up your pace, leaving your team to catch up as you made your way toward her.

mina caught sight of you almost immediately, her expression softening in a way that was barely perceptible to anyone but you.

“hey,” you greeted casually, stopping in front of her.

“hey,” she replied, her voice quieter, tinged with surprise.

without hesitation, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, completely oblivious—or perhaps entirely unbothered—by the presence of both your teams. mina’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, her composure faltered as a faint blush crept up her neck.

dahyun froze, her eyes darting between the two of you. “oh,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks burning as she quickly pretended to focus on her tablet.

“have you eaten lunch yet?” you asked, your tone light as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

mina blinked, still recovering from the unexpected affection. “not yet. i was planning to after this.”

you nodded, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “good. make sure you actually eat this time, not just sip on black coffee.”

mina rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a small smile. “you sound like you’re giving orders now.”

“just taking care of my wife,” you quipped, the words slipping out with ease.

dahyun’s fingers froze mid-typing, her eyes widening as she glanced at mina, whose blush deepened visibly.

“you’re embarrassing me,” mina murmured, though there was no real bite to her words.

you leaned in slightly, your voice low and teasing. “you love it.”

before she could retort, you turned and began walking back to your team, leaving mina standing there with her assistants staring at her in awe.

“president myoui,” dahyun whispered once you were out of earshot, “that was... bold.”

mina sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “focus on the task at hand, dahyun,” she said briskly, though the faint smile on her lips lingered for far longer than she intended.

-----

your new office in the myoui corporation was nothing short of breathtaking. floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city skyline, sleek furniture that probably cost more than your old car, and a desk so big it could double as a dinner table. mina really went all out.

you stood in the middle of the room, trying to decide where to place the ridiculous bouquet of roses mina had sent earlier with a simple note: “welcome to your new throne. love, mina.”

as you debated whether the flowers would look better on the desk or the small coffee table by the window, the door clicked open behind you. you turned to see mina, elegant as always, stepping in with a soft smile.

"so, how do you like it?" she asked, her voice tinged with pride as her eyes scanned the room and then landed on you.

"i feel like a majesty in here," you replied, gesturing to the plush leather chair behind your desk. "but it’s a little too much, don’t you think?"

"nonsense," mina said, walking closer. "you deserve the best." she leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing her arms. "besides, you’re part of the myoui empire now. appearances matter."

you chuckled, placing the flowers on the desk beside her. "and the hidden minibar? appearances?"

mina’s lips curved into a smirk. "a small indulgence. but," she paused, leaning closer, "if you think that’s over the top, you haven’t seen the… additional renovations i made."

your brows furrowed as you tilted your head. "what renovations?"

mina stood, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor as she strolled to the far side of the office. with a press of a button on the wall, a hidden panel slid open, revealing a small lounge area—complete with a plush sofa, a lockable door, and soundproof walls.

"i figured you might need a space to… relax during long hours," she said, her tone deceptively casual.

you blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks as realization dawned. "mina… this isn’t just for me to relax, is it?"

she shrugged, walking back toward you with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye. "well, it’s not entirely not for you either."

before you could respond, she looped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. "besides," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear, "i figured it’d be safer to plan ahead. no nosy assistants barging in, no cameras in this section of the floor… completely private."

your hands instinctively found her waist as her lips met yours, the kiss starting slow but quickly deepening. her usual poised demeanor melted into something far more uninhibited as she pressed closer, backing you up against your desk.

"mina, we can’t…" you managed to say between kisses, though your hands betrayed your words, trailing down her back.

"we can," she countered, her voice low and sultry, "and we will. don’t worry. i made sure we wouldn’t get caught."

"you’re dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, your voice low as you looked into mina’s darkening eyes. her smirk widened, her hands moving to loosen the knot of your tie.

"danger is part of the fun," she murmured, her lips ghosting over yours before trailing down your jawline.

your breath hitched when her hands tugged at your tie, pulling you closer until your hips pressed against the desk. the cold surface bit through your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you two.

"mina," you started, but her name caught in your throat as her lips found the sensitive spot below your ear.

"shh," she said softly, her fingers deftly working to undo the first button of your shirt. "you’ve been working so hard setting up this office, and helping with the corporation. let me… give you an early pay."

her voice was smooth as silk, but the deliberate pace of her movements was anything but patient. her hands trailed down your chest, undoing buttons one by one as her lips followed the path of her fingers.

you tried to regain some control, gripping her waist and spinning her so that she was the one pressed against the desk. she gasped softly, her eyes wide for just a moment before a sly smile curved her lips.

"oh?" she teased, tilting her head. "decided to take charge?"

"you started this," you shot back, leaning in until your nose brushed hers. "but i’m finishing it."

the kiss that followed was anything but gentle—raw, desperate, like the tension between you had been building for far too long. your hands slid up her thighs, hiking up the hem of her skirt just enough to feel the smooth skin beneath.

mina’s breath hitched, and her nails dug into your shoulders. "you know, we really shouldn’t," she whispered, though the way her body arched against yours betrayed her words.

"you're backing out already?" you countered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke.

she didn’t answer with words. instead, she pulled you down, claiming your lips again as she let out a soft, muffled moan.

your hands explored her freely now, mapping out every curve as if committing her to memory all over again. the desk creaked slightly as you leaned her back against it, her hair falling like ink over the polished wood.

"you’re going to ruin my skirt," she whispered breathlessly, though her tone was more amused than scolding.

"you’re the one who planned this," you replied, smirking as your lips trailed down her neck. "consider it part of the… renovations."

her laugh turned into a soft gasp as you found a particularly sensitive spot, and her hands gripped the edge of the desk for support.

"just… make sure no one walks in," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly.

"you already said this place is soundproof," you teased, nipping at her collarbone. "besides, you’re the boss. who’s going to interrupt you?"

she didn’t respond, too caught up in the way your hands and lips moved over her. -----

the soft hum of the air conditioner filled the bedroom as you leaned back against a mountain of plush pillows, the silkiness of your matching pajama set brushing against your skin. the set, of course, was mina’s doing—custom-made with your initials embroidered on the pocket. mina, dressed in an identical set, had her arm lazily draped over your waist as the two of you lounged on the massive bed that could probably fit half a soccer team.

“so,” mina began, her voice soft and curious as she glanced at you, “what would you want to name our next child?”

you turned your head to look at her, arching a brow. “next child? are we really jumping into that conversation already?”

“we’re wearing matching pajamas. this is as domestic as it gets,” she teased, her lips curving into a playful smile. “besides, hiro’s growing up so fast. don’t you think it’d be nice to have another little one running around?”

you chuckled, running your fingers along the luxurious fabric of the comforter. “okay, let’s say we have another kid. what are you thinking? traditional? unique? or something ridiculously extravagant like… diamond or cashmere?”

mina gasped, feigning offense. “excuse me, i have taste, thank you very much. but now that you mention it… cashmere has a nice ring to it.”

you groaned, laughing. “mina, no.”

“fine, fine.” she tapped her chin thoughtfully, her tone turning serious for a moment. “if it’s a girl, maybe something soft and elegant. like hana or akari.”

you nodded, considering it. “not bad. hana myoui does have a nice flow to it. and if it’s a boy?”

mina tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “you get to name him, as long as it’s not something weird like ‘thunder.’”

“what’s wrong with thunder? it’s bold!” you argued, grinning.

mina rolled her eyes, gently pinching your cheek. “you’re impossible.”

“you love me for it.”

she smiled, her fingers brushing your hair back. “unfortunately, i do.”

the conversation drifted as mina reached over to a bedside table that probably cost more than your first car, pulling out a velvet box. inside was a delicate bracelet—gold with tiny diamonds, with her initials engraved on a tiny charm, elegant and understated but unmistakably expensive. she slipped it onto your wrist without saying a word.

you blinked at her. “what’s this for?”

“just because,” she said simply, her voice soft. “i like spoiling you.”

“mina,” you groaned, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“don’t fight me on this,” she warned playfully, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “you’ve been through so much. let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

after a moment of comfortable silence, she glanced at you with a curious glint in her eye. “you know… i’ve been thinking about something.”

“uh-oh,” you said, feigning caution. “should i be worried?”

“maybe.” she grinned, sitting up slightly. “i think you should get a tattoo.”

you blinked, caught off guard. “a tattoo? really? you don’t strike me as the tattoo type.”

“not for me,” she clarified, smirking. “for you. something small.. like my name."

you burst out laughing, shaking your head. “mina, are you serious?”

“dead serious,” she said, her expression unchanging. “imagine it—‘mina’ tattooed on your wrist, or maybe your collarbone. somewhere visible. a constant reminder that you’re off-limits.”

“you do realize this is next-level possessive, right?” you teased, still laughing.

“and?” she shot back, her tone playful but firm. “is it really that bad to want the world to know you’re mine?”

you sighed, resting your head against her shoulder. “fine, but only if you promise not to name our kid cashmere.”

she laughed, her melodic giggle filling the room. “deal.”

as the two of you settled into the comfort of the moment, talking and dreaming about your growing family, neither of you noticed the way time slipped by. it wasn’t until mina glanced at the clock and realized it was past midnight that she pulled the covers over both of you, her warmth wrapping around you like a blanket.

“goodnight,” she whispered, her voice laced with contentment.

you smiled, closing your eyes. “goodnight, mina. and for the record, hana’s a great name.”

“i know,” she murmured, holding you close. “it’ll be perfect.”

and with that, the night faded into peaceful silence, the promise of a brighter future lingering in the air.

-----

the night was alive with soft jazz notes and a low hum of chatter from the exclusive bar. the four of you—mina, momo, sana, and yourself—occupied a luxurious corner booth, the dim light casting an intimate glow over the table. momo’s animated storytelling had everyone laughing, her wild hand gestures making sana wheeze as she tried to sip her drink.

beside you, mina sat poised, her slender fingers tracing invisible patterns on the back of your hand resting on your thigh. the touch was possessive but soft—a silent statement of claim.

“so,” momo said, squinting at the cocktail menu, “what’s next? something dangerously strong, maybe?”

“how about something mina wouldn’t touch in a million years?” sana teased, raising her eyebrows at mina. “do they even serve red wine slushies here?”

mina shot her an unimpressed look but smirked. “i’m versatile. don’t test me.”

“says the woman who calls anything under 90 points undrinkable,” momo muttered, earning a giggle from sana.

just as the teasing continued, a figure approached the table. tall, elegant, and undeniably confident, the woman seemed to glide rather than walk. you recognized her instantly—a k-pop idol with a glittering reputation.

“hi there,” she purred, her attention locked on you. she ignored the rest of the table, mina included, as if the others were invisible. “i couldn’t help but notice you. mind if i join?”

mina stiffened beside you, her hand freezing on your leg. her eyes darted up to the idol, assessing, cold and sharp. momo’s mouth twitched, clearly trying to suppress laughter, while sana leaned back, ready to enjoy the show.

“can i help you?” you asked, tone neutral, though mina’s grip tightened slightly on your thigh.

“just curious,” the idol said, leaning closer than necessary. “someone as attractive as you—how are you still single?”

mina inhaled sharply, her nails pressing lightly into your leg. momo and sana exchanged a glance, both silently bracing for mina’s explosion.

without missing a beat, you lifted your hand, the faint glow of your wedding ring catching the light. “i’m not single. happily married.”

the idol’s smile faltered but didn’t entirely fade. “oh… well, marriages aren’t always—”

“excuse me,” you interrupted, voice steady as you gestured to a nearby staff member. “can you kindly escort her elsewhere? i believe she’s lost her way.”

the idol’s face reddened, and she stammered something inaudible before the staff member politely ushered her away.

when you turned back to the table, mina’s gaze was already fixed on you. her pride and amusement were unmistakable, though her lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to maintain her usual composure.

“that was… well played,” momo said, grinning. “you didn’t even flinch.”

sana nodded enthusiastically. “you’ve really got a knack for making people regret their decisions.”

mina’s hand moved from your thigh to the back of your neck, drawing you closer. her voice was low and intimate as she whispered, “thank you for shutting her down so quickly. i was seconds away from doing it myself.”

you smiled, tilting your head toward her. “did you think i wouldn’t?”

mina leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a brief but deliberate kiss. “you’re too perfect sometimes, you know that?” she murmured, her voice laced with a rare softness.

sana cleared her throat dramatically. “uh, public place, guys. public. place.”

mina ignored her, picking up a slice of the appetizer platter and holding it out to you. “here,” she said, her tone commanding but warm. “eat.”

you blinked. mina never fed anyone, let alone in public. but she waited, her expression unreadable, until you leaned forward and took a bite.

“oh my god,” momo muttered, leaning toward sana. “is this even real? she’s… spoiling them.”

“she’s in deep,” sana whispered back, grinning.

“don’t make me regret inviting you two,” mina said flatly, though the corner of her lips curved upward.

but as you sit there, watchin them peacefully, you realize you wouldn’t trade this chaos for anything. -----

the air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine trees and fresh earth. the myoui town had hardly changed, its quiet charm untouched by the passing years. it was just as peaceful as you remembered it during your honeymoon with mina, but now, it felt even more alive with hiro’s laughter echoing through the streets.

“this place always feels like stepping into another world,” you mused, glancing over at mina, who was holding hiro’s hand as they admired the rows of blooming hydrangeas.

mina smiled, her face glowing in the golden afternoon light. “it hasn’t changed much. it’s why i love coming back here.”

hiro suddenly tugged on mina’s hand, pointing at a small pond nearby. “look, mama! koi fish! can i feed them?”

mina nodded, her voice soft and indulgent. “of course, but stay close.”

you trailed behind them, carrying a bag filled with snacks and small trinkets you’d picked up for hiro earlier in the day. watching them interact always filled you with a quiet warmth. hiro, who once stumbled over his tiny feet, was now running confidently, his energy boundless as he scattered fish food into the pond.

after a while, you joined mina on a bench overlooking the water, her hand slipping into yours without a word. you noticed how her grip tightened slightly, her eyes lingering on hiro.

“you’ve been quiet,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. “what’s on your mind?”

she tilted her head, leaning it gently on your shoulder. “just… thinking how far we’ve come. i’m glad we made it here, together.”

your lips curved into a smile. “me too.”

later, as the sky began to darken into shades of amber and lilac, the three of you returned to the small house that mina’s family maintained in town. you helped mina with preparing dinner, chopping vegetables while she stirred the pot, the two of you working in easy harmony.

hiro was playing in the living room, his laughter filling the space as he built a block tower.

“he’s growing up too fast,” mina murmured, her voice tinged with bittersweet affection.

you glanced at her, wiping your hands on a towel before wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. “he’s turning out pretty great, though. just like his mom.”

mina chuckled, leaning back into your embrace. “you’re biased.”

“and proud of it.”

the evening passed in quiet contentment, the kind of peace you’d once thought was unattainable.

as the night deepened, you and mina sat on the porch, watching hiro chase fireflies in the yard. suddenly, mina called out, her voice soft yet carrying a gentle urgency.

“come here, sweetheart!”

you turned to see a small figure toddling out of the house, her tiny legs unsteady but determined. your daughter—her cheeks round, her hair tied into a tiny bun that mina had fussed over earlier—was walking toward her mother.

hiro noticed immediately and ran to her side, carefully holding her hand to steady her. “careful, hana,” he said, his tone protective yet gentle.

“you’re doing so good, hana!” hiro cheered, his grin wide.

mina’s hand found yours, her grip firm yet tender. “he’s such a good brother,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“he had good examples to follow,” you murmured, your eyes meeting hers.

a comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the soft giggles of your children.

then, as if unable to resist, mina turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “so… what do you think about number three?”

you groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “mina, we just had hana—”

“exactly,” she interrupted, her tone light. “and look how perfect she is. why not one more?”

you peeked at her through your fingers, your lips twitching despite yourself. “you’re wild.”

she grinned, leaning in to kiss your neck the exact same spot where your tattoo resided, a small tattoo of her name. “and you love me for it.”

watching hiro guide hana, the two of you couldn’t help but exchange a glance—a silent agreement that, for all the chaos and exhaustion, this was the life you never knew you’d wanted.

fireflies dot the air. hana toddled around near mina’s feet while hiro chased the glowing insects with wild abandon.

you smiled, your heart swelling with pride and love. “yeah. we did good, didn’t we?”

mina rested her head against your shoulder, her hand finding yours once again. “we did.”

and as you watched your children together, you realized there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

-----

end of the special chapter, and the series.

a/n — have this :P i'm sorry for causing sadness here's something to mend that. here's the result from the vote, honestly a big surprise as i didn't think you guys would choose the right choice.

[deansapplepie]

You couldn’t lose each other

Summary: You were pregnant, then you weren’t.

Warnings: ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of character death, mention of “putting someone down”, soft Merle, on purpose asshole Daryl, blood, hurt, mental instability, hurt, stubborn main characters, loss, grief, and maybe more. 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

A/N: I never experienced miscarriage and am writing everything based on my knowledge through series, movies, soap operas and books, so it may have inaccuracies. If you are sensible to any of those topics please don’t read, your mental health is more important!

It had started about a week ago, heavy dizziness and morning sickness (which didn’t happen exactly only in the morning). On top of that your period was late, which you tried to atribute to the sub nutrition all of you went through while on the road, but as soon as other symptoms started… you knew it was probably other thing.

You went on a run with Daryl to get more baby formula for Jude and just discreetly added a pregnancy test on your backpack, in a part you hoped Daryl wouldn’t look because he never did. As soon as you got to the prison and had some alone time you risked yourself going somewhere, no one would see you or find you, to pee on the damn thing and find the truth. The truth was… you knew it, you didn’t need a test, you were undoubtedly and very much pregnant.

One end of afternoon, Merle sat by your side and didn’t bother to tip toe around you. “When are ya gonna tell ‘im?”

“What?” He took you back with his question.

“When are ya telling my brother ya’re with his baby?” Your eyes widened at his question. “Daryl ain’t the only one with observation skills. Who ya think taught him everything? I saw the symptoms and the pregnancy test you hid on your pocket the other day.”

“Fuck you Dixons.”

“Ya already do it to one of us.” He sassy replied, you rolled your eyes as usually happened during your banters.

“Soon. I’m just waiting the whole governor thing end. He already has too much to worry about, he’ll freak out if I tell him now. He’ll probably put me on bubble of safety and not let me do anything.” You stated, Daryl could have the rough exterior but both of you knew how he was, how he cared about people. Also he had changed so much the last months, and it was for the better. “Don’t tell him, let me do it.”

“Al’ight.” He surprised you, you had learned how to deal with Merle, but he wasn’t the same asshole as before. Still an asshole though. “It’ll be good have a mini Dixon around. I’ll help to keep ya’ll safe.”

“I know, you can be a jerk sometimes but I know you care about your family.” You gave the older Dixon a small smile and squeezed his hand to reassure him. That had been one of the nicest things he ever told you and coming from Merle, that was a lot.

The governor had asked for Michonne to leave your group alone, you didn’t believe a word of it it, but Merle did or at least he had to try. That morning he disappeared with her and all of you knew what he was up to. Daryl went after them, you wanted to go too but of course he wouldn’t “allow” you.

Some time after, Michonne arrived, alone. You asked about Merle and Daryl, and she told everything that happened with Merle. He had set her free and went by himself. It wouldn’t end up well, you could feel it in your guts, and your feeling just confirmed to be true when Daryl arrived alone.

Everyone gathered around him to know what happened and he told you with teary eyes. The others left to give both of you some time.

“Daryl, I’m sorry.” You said, both of your hands cupping his face, he averted your eyes. “Hey, look at me.”

“Leave me alone…” he grumply answered trying to get out of your grasp.

“We’re together in this, huh? I’m here for you, we both cared about Merle.” He snorted.

“Ya cared about Merle? Ya never liked him!”

That wasn’t true, he knew it wasn’t. He was hurt, he had to put his brother down, there wasn’t anyone else that could do it for him, even if there was… it had to be him. Somehow, in his abused mind, he thought it was all his fault. Merle died because he wanted to be a better person, he wanted to protect his little brother as much as he could in this fucked up world, and that was the way he found to do it. It was just a matter of time for you to do the same and it would be entirely his fault if you ended like Merle. You were the last thing he had from the old world. You were the only good thing he had, and if he had to push you away to keep you alive, that was what he was going to do, because he couldn’t afford living in a world without you.

“This isn’t true, Daryl. You’re hurting, I get it…” he cut your speaking before you could finish.

“Ya don’t. Ya never will!” He distanced himself when you tried to touch his arm. “We should break up.”

“What?!”

“Ya heard it.” He confirmed.

“Ok, when you’re not speaking no sense we can talk, I know you’re not ok, but there’s a limit of shit I can take.” You wouldn’t continue to insist on it if he was going to continue acting like that. You knew he was suffering, but so were you and he was being a prick.

“There ain’t gonna be another talk. I said what I said.” Those words left his mouth as if they were nothing, but each of them felt like a knife in his throat.

“Is it really the moment for you to dump me?” You knew he was emotionally unstable, no one make good decisions like this.

“Did I stutter?” The moment he threw the harsh words, he knew he had got what he wanted, the hurt in your eyes pained in his chest and this time he was sure he had lost you for good.

Since that day, you didn’t talk to him and he also ignored you. You asked Rick to not put you both working together anymore. You moved your things to Carol’s cell, now also your cell. Woodbury had fallen, now the survivors of the town had joined you at the prison.

Your little secret was still yours, or sort of… Carol was a mother. She went through all the shit you were going through, all of you saw Lori going through it. She knew it already, but didn’t tell you anything until one week after everything that happened.

She asked you, “aren’t you telling him?”

This time you didn’t even got surprised and already knew what she was talking about. “No.”

“And when it starts to show?”

“I’ll tell I just fucked someone and was too drunk to remember.” You stubbornly replied.

“You’re being childish, he deserves to know.” She was right, but you were tired and emotionally damaged already.

“ ‘cause he’s being a fucking kid too. I get it, he’s suffering, but he needs to stop hurting people every time he’s hurt. It’s time he grows up and man up.” You said arms crossed.

“You know his past better than I, I thought you from all the people would understand.” The older woman wisely said.

“Carol, I appreciate your concern, he’s your friend too, but you don’t understand.” You said, was it you? Was it the hormones? You couldn’t know. “Please, don’t tell him. It’s not your place to do it.”

“I won’t. You’re the one that should do it.” As soon as she answered, she left you alone.

One week later, or a little more, it seemed like Rick had forgotten his promise that he wouldn’t put you ti work with Daryl as he put both of you on fence duty to kill the walkers. Ok, there were more people with you, but you couldn’t help but feel yourself being watched and you knew the weight of his stare. You could feel it in your soul. Also, you couldn’t help yourself and from time to time look at him, because you would be a liar if you said you didn’t love him anymore or that you didn’t find him handsome and attractive, and what’s beautiful was made to look at.

It was middle of the morning, even though it was starting to get cold the sun was strong for whoever was working under it. You had sweat and few stains of blood from the walkers you had killed through the fence. You were feeling extra tired, you thought it was because pregnant women got more sleepy, so you didn’t think about it so much.

Some minutes after you felt a sharp pain on your lower stomach. Weird. ‘Please let it just be a stomachache or gases’, you thought.

You continued working then you felt the pain in the same place but sharper. ‘Please, don’t let it be anything with my baby’, you thought again.

You kept doing your job, this time more slowly as you felt the pain irradiating through your body, until you felt a stabbing pain in the same place and something hot going down your legs. You looked down and saw blood. “NO!”

You shouted and that called people’s attention Daryl’s specially. He looked at you and all he could see was blood. Did you hurt yourself with the weapon? Did the governor came back and wounded you? Did somehow a walker managed to bite you?

“Nooo-hooo-ooo.” You shouted cried throwing yourself to the ground.

In seconds he was kneeling by your side. “Hey, hey, look at me. What is it? What happened, doll?”

“I lost it.” You said, crying more at your realization. “I lost it.”

“What did ya lose, babe?” He asked, he thought you were delirious due to the blood loss. His hands around your face trying to make you look at him, trying to ground you. He was panicking, where were you hurt? Was he going to loose you anyway and he had spent the last weeks loosing his time with you?

You cried. “Our baby, I lost our baby.” You said between sobs.

It hit him like a punch on his stomach. You said your baby, a baby from both of you, a baby he didn’t know existed, a baby that… his abused mind played with him again. A baby that could be possibly gone because of him. “Stay with me, love. I’m taking care of you.” Who were you? Just you? You and the baby? Was there any chance this was a weird bleeding but the baby would still be ok? He didn’t know. He knew nothing about it.

He didn’t think twice, he took you in his arms and started running. “HERSHEL!” He yelled the doctor’s name again and again, until he found him and had you in the infirmary.

Before getting to the infirmary you had passed out, maybe it was the shock or it could also be the blood loss, you’d never know.

Hershel examined you. Daryl stayed all the time by your side, making questions to the doctor. Teary eyes while he explained everything. You were indeed pregnant, and yes, you had lost the baby. Daryl’s hopes were shattered at pieces, he cried. He the big rough man that didn’t like to show his emotions cried, it was Hershel. He was a friend. He was family after all.

After making sure nothing had stayed in your uterus, the old man had a talk with the younger one. Hershel made sure Daryl knew it wasn’t his fault, at this point he already knew the archer well and knew he was guilting himself for it. He ensured it was something that could happen at this early stage, you were at the maximum 2 months pregnant according to the tissue your body expelled from you. That small tissue was what would be your baby. The feeding poor in nutrients could have harmed your body, it was pretty much a disorder in your uterus so that happened. There was no one to blame, besides the end of the world.

Some time had passed when you woke up, you were as much as clean as they could got you and you had warm feeling on your right hand. You looked to your side and you saw Daryl worried and guilty eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” You said. You remembered everything.

“Maybe.” He said, even if Hershel had already reassured him. “But it doesn’t make it less worse. I could have lived it with ya for the little time we had.”

“I was the one that didn��t tell you.” You turned to your side and extended your left arm till you were touching his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I AM sorry.” He said giving emphasis to that. “I… I dun know what I was thinking.”

“I know.” You knew he was lost at that moment, but it didn’t hurt you less when he pushed you away and both of you needed each other. “Merle wasn’t your fault. The baby neither.”

At the mention of Merle’s name and the baby, your voice quivered and the tears threatened to leave your eyes, and they did. They fell from your eyes and you couldn’t do anything about it. “I ain’t pushing ya away anymore. I… I was so afraid of losing ya too.” Tears also slipped on his face.

“Merle was happy, he knew he was going to be an uncle.” You remembered the conversation you had with him the day before he sacrificed himself. “He noticed it and asked me about it. I was going to tell you when the governor shit was over.”

You also felt guilty about Merle’s death. You knew sometimes he didn’t take some smart decisions, but did he tried to face it all alone because he also wanted to be a better person to his nephew or niece? He had told you he would protect all of you.

You sobbed. You both cried together, now your arms thrown around his neck and your face hiding in it. You both had lost too much already, you couldn’t afford losing anything else. You couldn’t lose each other.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325 @hayley1998 @shadowcitrine @vaniniweenie @cupidelocke

[opbackgrounds]

The Romanticism of One Piece VII: The Sea, and Conclusion

AO3 Part I Part VI

“Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.” —Herman Melville

There is nothing more Romantic than to yearn for the sea. In his book Image of the Sea: Oceanic Consciousness in the Romantic Century, Howard Isham describes what he calls the “cosmic liquescence” that artists, writers, and musicians so often tapped into during the Romantic era. These were the last days of the sail, the world teetering on the edge between eras. To be alive during this time was to endure change, and the image of a ship being tossed about by the sea was a metaphor for those caught up in the spirit of the age.

Even more than our own, the world of One Piece is one of water. The ocean as metaphor has the benefit of being extremely broad, at times, paradoxically so. With a little bit of effort, the sea can represent basically whatever you want it to. In the real world, it can mean freedom for those who sail it, but with the proliferation of the Atlantic slave trade, Barbary pirates, and young men being press-ganged into service against their will it can just as easily be a symbol of oppression, terror, and slavery. Pirates were known to be somewhat democratic, but sailors stuck serving under cruel and unreasonable captains could be led to a watery death with no say in their fate. The ocean is life, sustaining countless people with its bounty and giving employment to sailors, fishermen, and any and everyone related to those trades. It is also death, cold, impersonal, and certain. 

A ship might be stuck helplessly in the doldrums or ravaged by savage wind and waves. It is adventure and mystery, for no one knows what lies beyond the horizon or what lurks beneath the surface. It is the thing that separates us, but also the means by which we travel, enabling new connections and the exchange of trade, culture, and colonialism. Depending on their purpose for setting sail, ships of this era were one of the few places where people of vastly different national origins, languages, religions and cultures not only lived together in close proximity, but depended on one another for their livelihoods and survival. An excellent example of this in Romantic literature can be found in Moby Dick, where the American point of view character Ishmeal becomes fast friends with the Pacific Islander Queequeg while working on the international whaling crew.

The sea can be feminine, the primordial mother of us all. Aphrodite was born of sea foam; mermaids, sirens, and nereids roam the waters to tempt, seduce, help, or destroy unwitting sailors. Ships are almost always referred to as she. Via the tides, the ocean is connected with the moon, also traditionally feminine. But the sea is also be masculine. Characters such as Old Man of the Sea, Poseidon, Oceanus were all male, as were the winds all ships depended on.

During the time that the Romantics wrote, sea-side vacations were increasingly prescribed as a health cure while sailors themselves suffered from ailments such as scurvy, typhus, and dysentery. Several poets reminisced longingly about their youthful childhoods swimming care-free in the sea. But the ocean is unfathomably ancient and supremely haunted by the souls of countless lives lost beneath its waves. 

In Moby Dick, the titular whale could represent God, the Devil, or Nature itself. To Tennyson, the breaking of the waves represented grief. The journey across the sea in Rime of the Ancient Mariner deals with life and redemption. To Wordsworth, the sea was immortal. To Byron it was freedom. Shelley writes of the West Wind stirring the sea—and thus the dreamer—awake from a deep summer slumber. To quote Keats, “Oh, ye! who have your eyeballs vexed and tired/Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea”.

I could go on, but let’s not belabor the point. In light of this vastness of metaphor, it is fair to say that in One Piece that the sea isn’t representative of one single thing. The New Era is brought in with Whitebeard’s crashing waves during the Marineford War. The terrible power of the Agua Laguna shows the force of Robin’s darkness breaking the Straw Hats apart, while the stormy skies of that time show the turbulence going on within the crew. Sailing brings people of different cultures, societies, and ideas together, and that forced interaction can break down prejudice and foster understanding between different species and cultures, as shown in both the Fishman Island and Skypiean flashbacks.

The Grand Line itself is portrayed as a cogwheel of fate, bringing the strong together in a clash of wills, and the limited navigational tools means that it is difficult, if not impossible to backtrack—you must live your life without regrets, and continue to move forward as you grow stronger as a person and crew. The sea represents the life of a pirate, often cruel, unfair, and dangerous but ultimately liberating. The promise of adventure exists somewhere beyond that unbroken horizon, a place of wonderland and dreams

The World Government may rule over a hundred and seventy allied nations, but no one owns the sea. Thus, as Luffy says at Sabaody, the Pirate King isn’t about conquering anything, but to become the freest man in the world.

I would also be remiss not to mention that the Sea Metaphor of One Piece is incomplete, and will be until the secrets of the Devil Fruit are finally revealed. It is curious that the force that’s presented as the epitome of freedom completely rejects Devil Fruit users, including the one representing liberation. Egghead also added the interesting element of the sea being an existential threat to the entire world, when the destructive power of the sea over land had been previously limited. It would be interesting to revisit this topic after the series has ended to see how Oda resolves these seemingly competing ideas.

But if there is one metaphor I think rules above all else, it is the sea as home, specifically home for the outcast. Robin says during her flashback, even before the Buster Call comes, that she’s studying to become an archeologist in order to go out to sea with her mother. Her home life on Ohara is one of ostracization. Even the archeologists, who love her dearly, don’t let her in on their deepest, darkest secrets. This is for her own safety, but to an eight year old girl who’s been rejected by everyone else on her home island, even her own family, it’s enough for her to seek solace in the promise of the sea. Then, during the Buster Call, Saul promises her that in the vastness of the sea she will find friends, and she will find family, that no one is born to be alone. It’s a sentiment Reiju echoes to Sanji during the Whole Cake Island flashback.

The sea is an escape. Most of the Straw Hats in one way or another have complicated relationships with their places of origin, and for many returning would be difficult if not impossible. Even a character like Nami, who is universally beloved by her hometown, spent eight years thinking that the people of Cocoyashi Village hated her, making her relationship with them relatively fraught while she was a member of Arlong’s crew. During that time the sea, and the treasure she found therein, was her only hope of freedom. The only Straw Hat who ends up staying behind has strong ties anchoring her to someplace other than the Going Merry. It’s not until hundreds of chapters and many real-world years later that an even greater force usurps Vivi from her homeland.

Similarly, fights with the marines and other enemies often end once the Straw Hats hit the open water. The society that tries to squeeze the citizens of the world into a specific shape loses its power over the boundless ocean. This is, of course, a double-edged sword. Water 7, the bandits of chapter 1, and Garp’s blackmail of Dadan show that it also deprives outlaws like Luffy the benefit of society’s protection. But those who refuse to conform to the whims and pressures of the world gain from fleeing to the sea, and what is to dream if not to refuse to conform in one way or another? Every single one of the Straw Hats want something that conventional wisdom says is impossible, but they search anyway, and in doing so find like-minded friends with which to band together. And like how a cord of rope is stronger than its individual fibers, together this found-family has the ability to challenge society and win, finding their own freedom in the process. 

The reason I hone in on the Sea as Home metaphor so strongly over the more general Sea as Freedom metaphor is developed during Luffy’s post-Marineford flashback. It’s here while he’s forcibly befriending Ace that Luffy reveals to him that being alone is the worst pain in the world, worse than being punched all day by a grown man in spiked boxing gloves. It’s after this that he, Ace, and Sabo discuss the freedom of the seas and piracy, and the moment they become brothers. It is this desire for connection, the longing for the outcast to find their place with other outcasts, that drives Luffy to the sea in the first place. It’s there he finds his people, and while he’s not able to navigate, or cook, or do anything remotely useful on a sailing vessel, he’s able to protect the people flying under his flag. It’s a symbiotic relationship between captain and crew, a complete and total interdependence that is required when sailing the treacherous waters of the Grand Line. 

During the Davy Back Fight, Luffy makes a prophetic statement when fighting Foxy that he’s willing to fight to the death for his friends. It’s an idea echoed during his fight with Bleuno on Enies Lobby, when the latter wonders how long Luffy will keep fighting against the combined might of the World Government. It’s the reason why the death of the Merry, the fight against Usopp, and Robin’s supposed betrayal is so devastating both for the reader and the Straw Hat Pirates. The found family that had developed over the course of the manga has ruptured, and they lost the ship with which they’ve called home.

The Water 7 Saga ends with a reconciliation between brothers and their home built anew, this time stronger and more able to weather the stormy waters that wait ahead, the peaceful lamb exchanged for a fearsome lion with a mane as bright as the sun. Nothing has challenged the internal fortitude of the Straw Hat Pirates quite like that saga and nothing ever will again, because both their home and family has been forged into something unbreakable, allowing them to sail the sea, and pursue their freedom, any way they wish.

Conclusion and Final Thoughts

”Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt in solitude, where we are least alone”—Lord Byron

I want to end on this point, because despite all the similarities between the Romantic movement and One Piece, in this we see one great difference. For all that the characters in Moby Dick are forced to depend on one another and the good judgement of their captain to survive, the book ends with everyone except Ishmael dead. Romantic poetry calls for solitary contemplation, and the landscapes of this era diminish the individual in favor of the wide, open spaces of nature. The zeitgeist of the age celebrated the misunderstood, melancholic genius. If One Piece were written during this time, Luffy would never have been the main protagonist. The rise of the Byronic hero would have made sure that honor went to a darker, more brooding character like Law or Ace.

In 1770, a boy of 17 named Thomas Chatterton committed suicide in his small garret apartment. Having grown up fatherless and in poverty, this young genius of a poet was unable to scratch out a living with his writing, and after battling both depression and the pressure of changing his profession, he instead chose to end his own life.

The death of Chatterton sparked a cult following. His life and death would be commemorated in art, plays, and operas, with poets like Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelly, and Keats all dedicating works to his name. His influence can still be felt today in the trope of the suffering arts that he and countless others helped codify.

One Piece is the story of a boy who rejects the confines of society in search of his own freedom, but he does not do so alone. Luffy is driven as much by the desire to be with his friends as he is by his desire to find the One Piece. The series agrees that risking death is an acceptable part of chasing one's dream, but rejects the notion that it should be sought out or celebrated. In One Piece, it’s better to live an undignified life in the hope of a better tomorrow than to give into an easy death. 

It is ironic that for all that the Romantics emphasized the self, many were friends with one another, Wordsworth and Colridge collaborated in writing Lyrical Ballads. Mary and Percy Shelly were married, and Mary Shelly famously wrote Frankenstein while on a retreat with Lord Byron. The German Romantic movement kickstarted with a group of men who wrote and studied together at the University if Jena, with similar groups later popping up in Berlin and Heidelberg. The American Transcendentalists even formed a club, with Thoreau only able to conduct his two year stint in the woods because the property was owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson, while his mother did his laundry. 

One Piece recognizes that genius is not a solitary venture. Those seeking their freedom cannot and should not do so alone. Existence isn’t a crime, the sea is vast, and your people are out there somewhere.

There are of course other differences. One Piece is written in a post-nuclear, modern world. Among other things, the mysterious, idealized past of the Void Century is not one of primitive nature but hyper-advanced technology, and the progress of man is something to be embraced rather than rejected. 

Yet the biggest difference I keep circling back to is One Piece's unabashed celebration of life. At the end of the day, it’s a story meant to make people laugh. Oda is unafraid of plunging into the depths of despair and tragedy, but he doesn't linger there before pulling the reader back into joy.

LP Hartley once wrote that, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there”. One Piece can never be mistaken as a story of the historical Romantic movement. There’s just too much difference between the world of today and the one where these works came.  But I hope that I've shown how it carries some of that legacy into the present day. Intentionally or not, Oda has taken an old idea and used it as a guardrail for the entire series. Like the sun, guiding the dawn of a new era. The dawn of Romance, if you will.

A Romance Dawn. 

[bwat5-blog]

Good Example Of What I Mean

**Spoilers For Arcane**

Okay. So, regarding my recent ranting on the topic of people making baseless arguments and by extension my harping on them, this is what I mean. And for the record, I'm not new to the internet. this sort of idiocy is far from cutting edge trolling. I know that. But as we are all here routinely in this space devoted to this story, I saw this earlier this morning and it happened to be a great example of what I posted last night.

First of all, I am not re-blogging the person who had posted it with sincerity because I broke my own rule and responded to an Arcane Critical post last night and woke up to 20+ comments this morning. That's on me. But I will say I am not mentioning this just because of one stupid meme. I have seen some variety of this statement countless ways:

"Caitlyn suffers for the first time and loses her mom and everyone acts like its an excuse to hurt all of Zaun".

This kind of thing right here is exactly what I mean when I say some of yall are just flat wrong. I can't tell if it is intentional or not, because you quite literally have to ignore massive chunks of the show to believe something like this, but at the end of the day when I say some takes are not worthy of discussion this is what I mean.

By the way, this isn't even about our man Silco here. I can't read enough to tell if anything in that box is real words or not but he has lived forty something years of history in this world. You better believe his box would be full. Because here's the thing. It isn't about agreeing or disagreeing with his reasons. It's about recognizing that he has them. THAT is consuming this story in a way that is worthy of respect and discussion.

But this?:

Survives being lured by child's voice to building fire by Jinx that kills six other enforcers

Almost killed by Jinx on bridge where Vi is also almost killed

Taken hostage nude in her child-hood home, forced to dress in Enforcer clothing and bound and gagged while Jinx tries to convince Vi to murder Caitlyn

Spares Jinx at Vi's request

Jinx smashes Caitlyn with gun and kills Caitlyn's mother, 2 other councilors, and blows up building

Attack squad of Zaunites crashes memorial killing several including almost Caitlyn and Vi

They know Jinx has weaponized hex-tech and has proven a threat

Comes up with plan for strike team after Vi (not blaming her she was right just pointing out) tells her they have to find a way to stop the invasion of Zaun.

Survives brutal fight with Sevika, saves Vi from Isha (presumably, we don't know if Isha would have shot), and after she held the shot for Vi the first time, Vi swore she was ready to end it this time, Vi blocks her shot. (Vi was right and Caitlyn was in complete mental health spiral, just giving some perspective).

After all that an incredibly talented manipulating warmonger takes over and that's all she wrote.

And of course that is to say nothing of the fact that the people I'm irritated with completely leave out the concept of Caitlyn's grief and trauma when considering her actions and story at all. Ignoring it in your consideration I can agree to label as ignorance. Disregarding it because you think the fact that she comes from privilege means she is unaffected by extreme traumatic violence and loss, or worse undeserving of recognition and care from it, that I'm afraid is a question of humanity.

As I have stated before none of this is to say I expect anyone to agree with everything or even anything Caitlyn did. She is a complex character and her decisions in many cases are SUPPOSED to be hard/impossible to accept. The way we each connect to these characters and this world is what makes it special. But stuff like this? You can do better.

[buddierecs]

eddie diaz centric buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

let's hear it for the boy (my fav fic of all time, i will rec this until i die) by: hattalove "in which eddie attends a self-empowerment group for gbtq men to supplement his therapy, and is empowered to: forgive himself, say "i'm gay" to his own reflection in the mirror, accidentally adopt an adult, make fried rice, and tell his straight best friend that he's in love with him. not necessarily in that order." word count: 56k important tags: self-discovery, coming out, friends to lovers, getting together, gay disaster!eddie diaz give your heart and soul to charity by: 42hrb "eddie dumps God, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself." word count: 12k important tags: therapy, catholic guilt, emotional hurt/comfort, pining, getting together, minor buck/tommy got me feeling like it's all it's gonna be okay by: wafflesofdoom "eddie struggles to voice his want for physical affection to buck as their relationship turns romantic, and buck helps him embrace his clinginess again." word count: 8.3k important tags: established relationship, ptsd, fluff, light angst counting pulses by: tinyydancerr "eddie diaz’s life is going great. he’s in therapy, he’s got a great girlfriend, a great kid, his friend is getting married to the woman of his dreams, and his best friend just came out to him. how his best friend is dating their new friend. things are going great. he promises." word count: 63k important tags: ocd, catholic guilt, co-parenting, emotional infidelity, therapy, coming out, pining, slow burn and we're back...in the car again by: beulaugh "buck gives christopher permission to finally watch jurassic park, and it sends eddie down a feelings spiral." word count: 11k important tags: feelings realisation, fluff, oblivious!eddie diaz, christopher diaz has two dads wrap me in your love by: kiwibuckley "five times eddie uses a weighted blanket, plus the one time he doesn’t need too." word count: 16k important tags: touch starved!eddie diaz, therapy, comfort, friends to lovers, minor buck/tommy, fluff, oblivious!buddie, nightmares things you don't say reach me somehow anyways by: siblysleaves "eddie tells the family he chose how much they mean to him. all of them except one" word count: 14k important tags: therapy, love confessions, team as family, getting together, first kiss lucky just to linger in your light by: hattalove "in which eddie accidentally waxes poetic about buck to the new york times." word count: 4.9k important tags: pining, getting together, gay disaster!eddie diaz no kingdom to come by: waywardrenegades "when his father experiences a health scare, eddie flies to el paso." word count: 23k important tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, love confessions, light angst, getting together her real name was grief by: justhockey "the shattered fragments of his ribcage have been rattling around inside of him like a warning siren: you can hear his heartbreak from a mile away. And now - here in his living room, in front of chimney - eddie let’s go...." word count: 5.8k important tags: post 6x11, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, love confessions, getting together, mutual pining the archer (this is a series with fics that have multiple ratings but i am putting it in anyways) by: nonalovesyou eddie repeats his affirmations in the mirror every morning, while he shaves the stubble from his jaw. 'my name is eddie diaz. i am autistic. i am gay. i am a good dad and i am a good person. i deserve to be happy and i deserve to feel good.' (it's taken him a long to be able to say it outside of his head. It's taken him an even longer time to say it and believe it.) word count: 146k important tags: autistic!eddie diaz, therapy, ptsd, falling in love

you wonder why i'm bitter by: simplyylupin “me and buck had sex,” he blurts. hen stares at him for a long time. “i'm going to need wine for this conversation, aren't i?” he nods meekly." word count: 3.9k important tags: pre-relationship, getting together, tommy bashing, miscommunication, pining, jealous!eddie diaz it's always on the tip of my tongue by: allyasavedtheday "eddie diaz vs the great romance paradigm." word count: 17k important tags: demisexual!eddie diaz, therapy, emotional hurt/comfort, character study, season 7, falling in love

[weebsinstash]

losing my mind over the idea of Lucifer being swerved every time by an oblivious reader. He “casually” drops how he used to pull wives at the drop of a hat and reader just goes “that’s great Lucy ☺️” and wanders off while bro is going through the stages of grief

I just love the idea of like, a Reader who GENUINELY IS oblivious and isn't trying to troll him by any means, you ARE just completely unable to fathom this man is coming on to you or legitimately means the things he says.

You're sitting there after Husker made you a tequila for the first time and you're sipping on it and Lucifer's just plopping down in the next stool over, "there was once a time in the past I shared a tequila with a woman, and, well, let's just say 9 months later my daughter Charlie was born!" and you reply without any hesitation at all, "yeah! you know, this is my first time trying tequila but I think it's really nice, although everything Husker makes me is pretty tasty so I've been trying lots of new stuff recently! like the other night I had my first shot of absinthe with Alastor and the taste was so--" and Husker is FACEPALMING and Lucifer is... honestly I think it would be really cute if he ADORES when you show your interests and passions when you start ranting about stuff, so he's like, even when he's mentally gritting his teeth with frustration, he'll be sitting there watching you doe eyed for as long as you want to talk, entertaining any of your long winded tangents or rapidly changing conversational topics

Ugh... you don't understand... the allure of being a tiny fragile human and he's. Well also tiny but he's this ancient inhuman creature who's also just A Silly Loving Family Man. Like. He's ALL POWERFUL. He can pull you into a singing dancing musical where he can make whatever he wants appear, he CAN basically warp materials and reality however he pleases, like... just...he's the small full package who probably HAS a full package if you know what I mean 😏 don't even look at me but characters like him n deku got me thinking about being fawned over by cute guys who are shorter than you but can absolutely easily overpower you without breaking a sweat and are more hung than nature should really allow

Seduction can be a fine line between sexy and cringey and can you imagine he says something to you that just, it just does NOT land. He's got you on your back in your bed and he's above you, with his hand directly under your chin, and he purrs that he wants to plant his seed directly in the fertile soil of your garden and you just LAUGH IN HIS FACE, like "BITCH WHAT?!" Like you CRUSH HIM, FATALITY, man is suffering psychic and emotional damage, you are chipping away at his health bar as you sit there "Haha, you're so goofy Mr Morningstar 🤣 you always know how to make me laugh" and he's HUFFING and laughing in frustration, "OKAY, let's try this again! When I'm done with you, Charlie might have a new sibling on the way!"

"Awww thank you! Charlie's already like a sister to me but I'm glad you're seeing it literally 🥰"

Can you imagine it. The ultimate cockblock. Giving him the ultimate swerve, hitting him with the ultimate grand slam, "YOU'RE LIKE THE FATHER I NEVER HAD" like, how can he possibly stick his dick in you now he knows you see him as YOUR DAD 🥺❤️ He can't VIOLATE his BABY (or can he 😳🤔)

Can't stop thinking about Reader who is completely unaware that this man is unhinged levels of Down Bad until the very moment he's wrestling you down to either fuck you or have a full on love confession. You're just goofing around and palling around and occasionally giving him hugs where you smush your titties or whatever in his face because he's the perfect height and you love to tease him and, then, to YOU, he's 'suddenly without warning' trying to kiss you, say all these passionate things to you, putting his hands in places they've never been before--

I'm still hung up on... the idea of Lucifer impregnating the Reader and you have your little you know cute apple womb tattoo and. I just know he'd be fussing and cooing and like ANNOYING levels of lovey dovey, baby talking your belly before you're even showing. He'd wanna get married with a big fancy flashy wedding to show you off. He'd wanna announce to all of Hell he has a new spouse and want everyone to fear/worship/respect/adore you. He's making this baby SO MANY GIFTS with his own two hands, you have no idea. Duck themed cribs, duck themed onesies, duck themed ducks, he'll make it all! In fact he'll make too many! But, still not enough to satisfy him! Everything has to be perfect, for you, for the baby, for his growing lovely family!

I dunno. Don't expect me to be normal about the fact the man can shapeshift either... he's about to slither right into my incognito tabs...

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat Fill #8: Jaehaerys receives word of the twins

This time we have a trick! Which in this case means "something that wasn't on the prompt list." Though it could mean something entirely different next time it appears as a poll option, so be warned...

This fill won't make much sense unless you've read Fill #7 aka the first part of Regnal AU aka "consummation babies" as it's a continuation of that, where we get Jaehaerys's POV of receiving Baelon's letter sharing the happy news.

x~x~x

Father,

I bring joyous tidings from Runestone: our family has grown by two! After a day’s brave labor, my good-daughter brought forth a pair of screaming babes, furious at being parted from the safety and warmth of the womb. Though the birth came one moon early and they are yet small, their lungs are quite healthy indeed, and the maester assures me that they are as healthy as can be.

Your heart would swell to look upon them, as mine has. The name of the eldest is yet to be decided, as it is a matter of fierce debate between Daemon and Lady Rhea, but the younger is to be Aemon. He is the very image of my brother. I swear that I can see him in his eyes—not only the color, though that too they share, but the manner in which he studies me, as though he knows things that I do not. His hair is strikingly light of color, just as Aemon’s, though the maester has reminded me that it will yet darken, perhaps to something more like mine own. Selfishly, I wish otherwise. 

And the eldest! Daemon is insistent that he should be Baelon, after my own name, while Lady Rhea favors Hubert or Rodrik, after her great-uncle. He reminds me of Rhaenys at birth, hair dark like his mother’s. His eyes are as a field of lupin clouded by storm, and it is already plain to all that he has a warrior’s heart. If his brother is out of his sight for but a moment, he howls his displeasure at the world, whereas his brother Aemon howls whenever he is given into Daemon’s arms, much to my son’s dismay.

Words cannot describe how it is to hold them. I feel as though a piece of my own heart has been returned to me, and I am certain that they are destined for greatness. You may discount such as a proud grandsire regarding his first grandsons, but it is more than that. You will understand when you meet them.

All of this to say that it is my intention to remain at Runestone beyond the original moon I had planned. I beg your indulgence in this matter. The realm is peaceful and we are at the height of summer, in a time of plenty. Should that change, I shall of course hasten back to your side, but Daemon is yet young to be a father, at only seven-and-ten. Although he has made great strides as a husband since the wedding, I would offer him whatever guidance and wisdom he needs. It is quite a thing, after all, to suddenly find oneself a father twice over!

Please give my love to Mother and sweet Gael. They will adore the twins as surely as I do. I only wish our family could meet them sooner! It is the maester’s recommendation that they remain at Runestone until their first year has passed. As such, I seek your guidance on the matter of dragon eggs for their cradle. I know that you have forbidden that any be taken outside of King’s Landing, but it is good for the health of the babes. I implore that you consider it. If you are amenable, I shall gladly fetch and safeguard them myself.

Your son, etc,

Baelon

Jaehaerys leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a celebratory sip of wine as he reread the missive from his son once more. It was far cheerier in tone than anything his son had written in the years since Aemon’s death, which was heartening on its own. He had hoped that his son’s first grandchild might grant him reprieve from his grief, but his joy at Rhaenyra’s birth had been fleeting. That he had named the younger child after Aemon, however—that spoke to a healing all its own. Merely hearing his brother’s name spoken would on occasion plunge him into despair.

Twins. Jaehaerys looked out the window of his solar, into the warm morning sun piercing through. Was it a good omen, or ill? Rhaella and Aerea’s birth had been heralded as a blessing, yet his sister’s family had come to sorrow and ruin. Aerea’s death—

He set his wine cup down, mouth tightening at the memory of it, even after all these years. It had been a thing of horror, but best not let himself fall into the trap of superstition over reason. He had watched his line dwindle over the years, sons and daughters claimed by death, one by one, to Alysanne’s everlasting grief. The holdfast stood nigh empty, save for Baelon, Gael, and Viserys’s small family.

His sons had given him but three grandchildren, and from them, three great-grandchildren.

For Daemon to have nearly doubled that number was encouraging, and made suffering his grandson’s bitter protests over his match with Rhea Royce more than worth it. Rasher than his father, and with an arrogance not matched in deed. Fatherhood can only improve him.

Would that he could swap Daemon’s success for Viserys’s lack. The match between Viserys and Aemma had been more than fitting, and yielded a great-granddaughter, but his granddaughter had suffered four miscarriages already, which did not bode well for future children from his eldest grandson. And yet it was Viserys who would take the throne someday, after Baelon’s reign.

Even so, the birth of two great-grandsons was to be celebrated. At not even nine moons past the wedding, they could very well have been conceived that very first night. If the gods are good, it is a sign of things to come.

That the children had been born at Runestone was unfortunate. It meant waiting for their presentation to court, though that could also be for the best. He was no stranger to sons who never reached their first name day. But if Runestone’s maester insisted they were in good health, despite the twins’ early birth, then that was encouraging.

I could send Allar to attend at Runestone, Jaehaerys mused. Doubtless a house of Royce’s standing would have a capable maester, but royal children deserved the very best of care. And then there is the matter of the dragon eggs.

There was a reason his son’s letter had taken on a wheedling tone. He greatly misliked the thought of any eggs leaving the care of the Dragonpit or the well-guarded holdfast. Elissa Farman’s theft was not so distant as to have fallen out of memory. There would be those who might expect dragon eggs to find their way to Runestone, and seek to steal them.

If they are as healthy as the maester claims, then they have no need of them. When the babes were old enough to travel, they could be brought to King’s Landing and have dragon eggs placed in their cradle then. Doubtless his wife would petition Baelon every moon to have them brought here.

His eyes fell once more upon the one paragraph that had drawn his attention. I am certain that they are destined for greatness. Baelon was inclined toward excessive pride in his children, as he had been with both his own sons’ births. But for him to insist upon it, to have already found such solace—

Jaehaerys sighed, feeling his bones creak with the motion. Baelon’s dark mood since Aemon’s death had been a matter of concern for years now. His son attended to his duties as Hand with diligence, but little satisfaction. Jaehaerys had begun to fear that the Iron Throne would be the same for him, a burden rather than an opportunity. It was not a fear he would have had a decade before, when his sons had been eager with possibility.

If anything happens to the babes, it could plunge him into despair. In that, his son was far more alike Alysanne than him. Precautions would be needed, but perhaps the prospect of Baelon finding new purpose outweighed the risk of dragon eggs falling into the wrong hands. After all, no dragons had come of the eggs lost before.

He may have his dragon eggs, but I cannot fathom what he is thinking in allowing Lady Royce to entertain such names for a Targaryen child. That must be quickly settled. Daemon’s stubborn pride is of some use here, at least.

Jaehaerys took up his quill. It will be a pain to be without him for a time, but Hightower has been agitating for his younger brother to be appointed to some role within court. He can take this opportunity to prove his usefulness in Baelon’s absence.