#cecil denis x reader

[emma23]

Wait, I don’t get it, please explain:

Cecil Denis x reader

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Y/N had spent the entire day in bed, as usual, cocooned in her blankets, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. Every once in a while, she sighed deeply, feeling that strange mixture of fatigue and restlessness. Her mind wandered, and once again, it landed on him—Cecil Denis, the one guy she couldn't get out of her head. She couldn't quite explain what drew her to him. Was it his eccentric behavior? His mysterious smile? Or maybe the fact that he had once complimented her singular dimple, something even she had barely noticed.

Y/N groaned, rolling onto her stomach, staring at the ceiling, replaying every interaction she’d ever had with Cecil, analyzing every word he'd said to her. Was that smile he gave me flirtatious? Or was he just trying to manipulate me like he does with everyone else? She squinted, trying to remember the exact phrasing of something he said last week, but of course, her memory failed her—again.

"Ugh, I think he likes me?" she muttered to herself, though she immediately doubted it.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts, followed by a familiar voice that sent her heart racing.

"Y/N, you in there?" Cecil’s voice, smooth and teasing, echoed from the other side of her bedroom door.

She panicked. "Hein?! Uh—what? Yeah!" Y/N flailed for a second, scrambling to get out of bed, realizing too late that she was still in her pajamas. She glanced at herself in the mirror, hating how her nose looked in profile, and gave up trying to look presentable.

The door creaked open before she could protest, and there he was—Cecil, leaning against the doorframe, his usual smug grin plastered on his face.

"You look... cozy," he remarked, eyes scanning the room cluttered with blankets and pillows. "Been in bed all day?"

"Uh... yeah. Sort of. I mean, it's been a long day. I'm just tired, you know?" Y/N mumbled, awkwardly smoothing down her hair. "What’s up?"

Cecil walked into the room, casually closing the door behind him. "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see if you were still alive. Thought maybe you'd gotten lost in all this." He gestured to the chaos of her bed with a laugh.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "I’m not that bad. Sometimes I get out of bed."

"Sometimes," Cecil repeated, raising an eyebrow. He sat down on the edge of her bed, his presence filling the room with a strange energy. "What were you doing? Thinking about me?"

Y/N's brain short-circuited. She blinked a few times, unsure if she’d heard him right. "Wait, what? I—uh... I don’t get it. Explain?"

Cecil chuckled, amused by her reaction. "You’re always in your head, Y/N. Thinking too much, panicking over nothing. It’s adorable, really." He leaned in slightly, his face inches from hers, his tone playful but with a hint of something deeper. "So, what’s going on in that overactive mind of yours? Am I taking up space in there?"

Y/N could feel her face heating up. "I mean... maybe? I don’t know. You’re confusing," she admitted, biting her lip nervously. "You’re always... around. And then you say things like that, and I never know if you’re serious or if you’re just messing with me."

Cecil’s eyes softened, his smirk fading slightly. "Who says I can’t be both?"

Y/N blinked again. "Wait, what?"

He sighed, shaking his head fondly. "Y/N, you’re overthinking it. What if, for once, you just let things happen without trying to figure it all out?" His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for a while. But you keep making it so damn hard to tell you."

Y/N stared at him, processing his words slowly. "So... you’re saying you actually... like me? Like, for real?"

Cecil laughed again, but there was a warmth in his gaze now. "Yes, for real. And I think you like me too, but you’re too busy questioning everything to just admit it."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself. He was right—she did overthink everything. And yes, maybe she did like him. A lot. But admitting it felt terrifying, like stepping into the unknown.

She sighed, finally letting herself relax a bit. "Okay... maybe I do. But I still don’t understand why you like me."

Cecil leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. "I like you because you’re different. You’re real. You don’t play games like everyone else. And... I kind of love that you say ‘hein’ all the time," he whispered, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension between them shift into something lighter. "You’re weird, you know that?"

"Takes one to know one," he quipped, his fingers gently tilting her chin up, his gaze locking onto hers.

There was a long pause, the air between them thick with anticipation, before Cecil closed the gap, pressing his lips against hers. Y/N melted into the kiss, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. For once, she wasn’t overthinking—she was just feeling, letting herself get lost in the moment.

The kiss deepened, and before she knew it, they were tangled together on the bed, the blankets wrapping around them like a cocoon. Cecil’s hands roamed over her body, exploring every inch, and Y/N found herself matching his intensity, her usual hesitations melting away.

Time seemed to blur as their passion took over, but there was no rush, no urgency. Just the two of them, figuring out their limits, pushing past them, discovering what felt right. Every touch, every kiss felt electric, pulling them deeper into each other.

After what felt like hours, they finally lay side by side, catching their breath. Y/N turned to him, her mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.

"So... wait. I still don’t get it. Are we... like, together now?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine confusion.

Cecil blinked, then burst out laughing, his whole body shaking with amusement. "You’re unbelievable, Y/N," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Yes, we’re together. God, you’re cute when you’re confused."

Y/N pouted, but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. "You’re gonna have to explain this to me again tomorrow."

Cecil chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I will. But for now, can we just enjoy the moment?"

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to him, finally allowing herself to relax. For once, she wasn’t panicking. For once, she wasn’t overthinking.

"Hey, Cecil?" she asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really like my one dimple?"

Cecil grinned. "It’s my favorite thing about you”

[lucylockets]

oh nothing just thinking about mark grayson x super!reader.

super!reader, who is involved in her community. she uses her strength and flight to help build homeless shelters. she volunteers at soup kitchens. saves residents from burning buildings. helps old ladies cross the road. saves cats from trees. carries endangered animals away from hunting grounds. she turned the colours blue and red into a sign of hope, trust, and protection.

super!reader, who knows omniman before mark gets his powers.

super!reader, who enjoys omnimans company. sure, the man is a little grumpy and a bit . . . intense. but he’s the only one who she knows that understands missing their home planet. she talks to him about Krypton, and he listens. he talks to her about Viltrum, and she listens. she noticed that he seems very passionate about the planet, but doesn’t judge. she pins it as repressed homesickness.

super!reader, who points out they both have red capes with a certain excitement, like a child fitting in with the cool kids. nolan decides to keep her around. perhaps she’d swear loyalty to viltrum soon and help him with his mission.

she isn’t a member of the Teen Team, or Fight Force, and wants to keep it that way. she helps out when needed, of course. sometimes she’ll take care of matters on other planets for Cecil, but she doesn’t work for the GDA. nolan respects that.

there’s a few things they disagree about. super!reader has a strict ‘no-kill rule’. nolan doesn’t. she purses her lips as she watches nolan kill thousands of Flaxans.

“you realise they would just return to earth to kill even more humans?”

(insert big sigh) “but what if we set up a rehabilitation centre on their planet?”

“either put that laser vision to good use kid, or lift those buildings out of the way for me.”

super!reader, who is invited to the grayson house for dinner, and she accepts because she doesn’t have any family of her own (except for Krypto), and often struggles with domestic tasks.

super!reader, who loves helping debbie with dinner. she really likes the woman, and wants to be a good guest. except, she often forgets her own strength. after debbie cleaned up one too many smashed plates, she assigned super!reader to the job of setting the utensils on the table. she had to hide the forks she accidentally bent in half from debbie or else be banned from the kitchen forever.

mark grayson, who first meets super!reader at dinner. his dad came into the house, still in his suit, but this time had a girl hovering at his shoulder. literally hovering. she greets him with a kind smile and he instantly becomes awkward.

“so . . . uh, hi. I’m Mark.” He holds out his hand. Nolan blinks. Debbie smiles to herself.

“I’m (name).” She shakes his hand. Mark blushes at the skin contact.

“You can sit next to me.” He says far too quickly. He adds on: “if you want.”

mark grayson, who goes red when nolan expresses worries to super!reader about mark not developing powers, because why is his dad embarrassing him in front of the pretty girl?

he gives her a “thank you,” when she dismisses nolan’s worries with a laugh and a small hand wave. she claims there’s nothing to worry about. nolan’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t speak about it anymore. she doesn’t actually have any qualifications to say that, but for some reason, her words seem to be took as the truth.

mark grayson, who practically wills himself to get powers sooner so he can join you and his dad (and impress you).

super!reader, who is excited for mark to get his powers. she looks forward to mark joining her and nolan on missions, and their hangouts will become so much more fun!

when mark does get his powers, he, super!reader, and krypto fly around the garden, playing catch with the dog.

mark loves krypto. debbie denied every request for a dog when he was younger, claiming that the animal would end up her responsibility and just add to her plate. so, krypto comes along with you. he’s a pretty friendly dog, but obviously especially loves superheroes a little more, because he flies excited circles around mark whenever he sees him.

mark grayson, who talks to super!reader about Seance Dog, and shows her the comics. he worries about her viewing him as a complete nerd, and she does tease him, but she listens to him talk. krypto took great interest in the hero dog, and seemed to become jealous whenever mark praised the character.

one time, super!reader found krypto in marks room, with ripped pieces of the comic around him, looking quite pleased with himself (if dogs can look like that). she had to fly across five states to get that issue and replace it before mark saw.

(she has to reassure krypto that he’s the only hero dog in her heart. she asks mark to tell him the same. he does.)

super!reader, who is asked by nolan to help with marks training. she helps mark with his flying, and is much kinder than his father while guiding him through the air. she jokes that she’s ready to catch him if he falls. mark laughs, but is secretly imagining it.

and one day, on some mission, she does catch him. he’s in her arms, bridal style, and she’s smirking at him. he goes red, and mumbles something about how he was “just about to catch himself.” she laughs. he’s never noticed how . . . firm her arms were before, but now he can feel them. after that, he has to make an effort to not stare at her arms for too long.

even though she’s helping nolan train mark, viltrumites can be different to kryptonians so she’s quiet for some parts. she laughs behind her hand as nolan asks mark to hit him and mark misses. mark punches her in the shoulder, and she gasps at the power which was able to send her away a few meters. she retaliates by sending him into the atmosphere. (all in good fun of course) (nolan gave them both a lecture on “professional and mature usage of powers.”)

super!reader, who likes her newfound trio of superhero’s. she laughs about their costumes. about how hers is red and blue, nolan’s is red, and marks is blue. she likes their matching colours, even if they’re different shades. because those colours mean something to her.

mark grayson, who asks super!reader about Krypton. what it’s like, if she misses it, the people, the customs, the language. she answers all his questions with a twinge of sadness and longing.

super!reader, who mutters and mumbles under her breath in kryptonian, and then looks up at mark as if expecting him to respond or nod at what she just said. mark blinks back at her and gives her a slow thumbs-up, hoping that it’s appropriate for whatever she just said.

super!reader, who over pronounces some words and has a discreet accent in her voice. mark loves it. he notices it and can’t quite place it to any country. he imitates her one day as a tease, but instantly regrets it when he sees her shoulders fall and she becomes quiet. she’s gifted to a million apologies from him, and now he only ever encourages her to talk because he “likes hearing her voice.”

super!reader, who scribbles notes to mark and nolan. they’re mostly updates on any long term missions, or sometimes notes of gratitude to debbie. except, her handwriting is the messiest any of them has ever seen and a lot of words are just simply indistinguishable. mark sneaks them into his pockets and keeps them.

super!reader, who tunes into marks heartbeat when the night goes quiet. she doesn’t know why it brings her a sense of calm to hear the steady thumping, but it does, so she doesn’t complain.

super!reader, who instantly bonds with atom eve at first meeting. she immediately loves the girl, as she’s her first female friend. she marvels at her powers, and atom eve marvels at super!readers. sometimes atom eve will construct a heavy object (like a car) and super!reader will bench it. it gives them a both a chance to show off.

one time super!reader asked nolan for a penny. he was confused, but handed her one anyway. she thanked him before excitedly pressing it into atom eves hand. she watched in awe as atom eve changed the faces into the different people she called out.

super!reader and atom eve, who whisper and giggle to each other over nonsense while mark rolls his eyes and mutters “girls . . .” under his breath.

mark grayson, who basks in the praise that super!reader gives him when he shows her his costume for the first time. she compliments the ‘i’ on it. he thanked her, but doesn’t admit that he took inspiration from the ‘S’ on her suit.

he does tell her eventually. months later, when they’re sitting on a rooftop somewhere. she smiles and says, “that’s flattering, but I didn’t choose the ‘S’ because of my name.”

he gives her a confused look and asks what it means then. she looks at the sky for a moment and replies, “on my planet, it means ‘hope.”

and that’s what she’s provided him with. that’s what she’s provided Earth with. and he couldn’t be more grateful.

[lavenderhateswritting]

Oh please please do more conquest x reader stuff!!!

"You are worried petal. Do not deny it I can hear your heart." Conquest is laying on the couch where he has been sense you walked into the front door. His body is so large that you can barely see the couch underneath him. He's watching Survivor because he has some insane fascination with watching reality TV you weren't going to question it.

"The GDA asked me if I had seen or heard of a violent aggressive Viltrumite being hidden somwhere round my area. You're looking at him now and thinking baout how stupid you had been to think you'd be able to hide this giant of a man for any longer than you already have.

"So they are asking you have stomached much harder foes from what you've have told me." He has lifted his eyebrow at you as though the idea of this doesn't really concern him at all. It is easy to forget that he has only lived on this planet for a few months when he is layed out like this. He's relaxed wearing a pair of sweat pants sprawled out taking up as much space as he can completly relaxed in a way he never could be before.

"So, if Cecil is asking me something he already knows the answer and he's probably known the answer for a while now." Your hand is brought up to your face. God what were you doing. You weren't supposed to be involving yourself in the fate of the world anymore and now you've somehow run yourself face first into it.

"Come here and sit Y/N." He reaches his hand out to you wrapping his hand around your wrist. His eyes have s softness into them that you aren't quite sure anyone, but you has seen. You allow him to pull you further until you're standing right next to him and you can see that there is no room for you anywhere to be found.

"And where will I sit you giant." A light smile pulls at your lips. And a large grin forms on his.

"Then I suppose you will have to find space." Before you could register it your body was yanked forward and you were pulled on top of him. It was easy to forget the power he held until moments like these. His body rippling with the hard tough muscle built through a life of war. You can feel every ridge of him as your face is pressed against his sturdy expanisve chest.

"I bet you're real proud of yourself huh." You can feel the chuckle he releases rumble through his chest like an earthquake through mountains.

"That I am Petal that I am." His hands come up to grab your waist.

"We will fight this battle and conquer whatever is to come. I will rip this Cecil a part myself so that we may stay together." And then he held you clser as hard as he could without it hurting and just for a moment you could pretend the world wasn't falling a part.

[cherryite]

overthrown - interlude. the lake

summary. in the aftermath of your encounter with the oracle, you and the rest of the heirs search for answers, and you find yourself... 'dreaming', a bit too vividly (word count. 7.6k)

content. princess!reader x prince!mark grayson, fem!reader, strangers to lovers, slow burn, angst, yearning, hurt/comfort, fantasy au, saving the world, war time activities, found family

warnings. MDNI!!, depictions of violence, blood/gore, and injuries, loss of family, death, grief, rex being a dickhead lowk, survivors guilt, anissa (because she deserves a warning), eventual smut (not this part)

author's note. oh heyyyyyyy, i know a lot of you don't read this fic but it's literally my labor of love. i hope you all enjoy, shit's getting real from here on out lol. as always, i love to chat about my fics! so don't be afraid!! (i listened to i bet on losing dogs while writing this and also the power of prophecy from hotd s1 so!!)

taglist. @pickledsoda @heartfully10

previous/next

plot/ world info character index

Candles flicker in the dark.

Wax drips down the tapers, pooling on the table like pools of thick tears from a crying eye. Everyone is still half dressed, sleep clothes the only thing worn, bags under their eyes. Cecil paces at the head of the table, his tunic is ruffled and his face is contorted in deep thought. He’s muttering under his breath, running a weathered hand along the length of his jaw as he thinks.

Rex slumps in his chair between Eve and Rae, arms crossed, his lower lip slightly puffed out like a child denied a treat. “I can’t believe I woke up for this,” he mumbles.

Eve hardly even glances at him as she gives him a swift ‘wack’ to the back of his head. He groans. Rae smiles to herself. “You woke up because she was screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night,” Eve hisses lowly, her tired green eyes glaring at him, “consider being useful for once instead of complaining.” 

You sit hunched in your seat, your knees drawn to your chest near the foot of the table. Your arms have wrapped themselves around your knees, you aren’t sure if it’s for warmth or to comfort yourself. Mark sits in the chair nearest to you and he thinks he’s being subtle about how he keeps peeking over at you to make sure you’re okay. He’s been hovering since he barged into your room after the Oracle visited you. You shiver, the cold of the night cloaked castle floors seeping up through your feet and nipping at your skin, the thin fabric of your night clothes doing little to help. Your heartbeat still echoes faintly in your ears. You haven't entirely left that moment; that figure made of starlight, the voice that made goosebumps run along your arms. It clings to your skin like static.

Cecil finally ceases his pacing, his eyes drawing to look at you. “So,” his voice is rough from sleep,  “what exactly did the Oracle say to you,” Cecil leans with his palms on the large oak table, looking at you expectantly.

You swallow, albeit a bit nervously. Your mouth feels exceptionally dry. “It said that Thala’s Blade would be the key to defeating the Dark God’s army,” you say, your voice low as you explain, “that we’d find it where the God’s used to rest their heads. And that hope needs to wield the blade.”

The room is eerily still, the occupants of it processing quietly to themselves. The silence is not comfortable.

Rex scoffs, “But the Blade’s just a bedtime story, it’s a myth. My grandfather used to tell me that story at bedtime. We may as well be looking for a dragon.” Rae shoots him a look, her wild chestnut hair swishing around her as she turns, “well obviously it’s real, why would the Oracle waste its time lying to us?”

Eve is contemplating to herself, “‘Where the God’s used to rest their heads’... what do you all suppose that means?” She steeples her fingers in front of her mouth as she leans forward. You can practically see her mind working.

Cecil sighs, “in the stories, the God’s had a temple here in the Realm. They used to stay there when they visited mortals or had business down here. It was a convergence point, where the realms touched. I’ve never heard of it being real, or any mention of where it’s located.”

The room is tense. The past month has been rough. The prophecy doesn’t exactly say how to beat the Dark God. Meetings have been filled with collecting armies, making allies where they can, preparing for potential attack. But now they have a clue, something to go off of and it may not even be real. 

Mark drums his fingers against the hard wood of the table, his brows drawn in thought, “If the Blade does exist, and the Oracle wants us to find it…” He trails off, hesitating before he regains his train of thought, “The Oracle said Hope must wield the Blade. Do we know what that could mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rex scoffs, motioning to Mark, “who else would it be? Mark’s the strongest of us. He’s the heir of Viltrum and he’s the best fighter we have. If anyone’s going to take on the Dark God and his army with a legendary sword, it’s Mark.”

Mark suddenly seems a bit uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. “But it didn’t say my name.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Rex says, waving a hand tiredly, “the Oracle doesn't have to say any of our names directly considering how we're already apart of the prophecy. I’m just placing my bets early that it’s you.”

“Honestly, I think that's the point. That’s what it wants us to figure out,” Eve murmurs, still thinking, her fingers steepled under her chin. “The Oracle didn’t give an answer. It gave us a path and we should follow it.”

“Our best course of action is to see if there's any clues or documentation in any written sources in the library,” Rae suggests, “at least that's how I see it.”

Cecil huffs, his brows pinched together. “Good thinking.” He turns, running his hand down his face tiredly. “Start searching, tonight if you can. We’re sitting ducks right now. And without the upperhand Thala’s Blade could give us, I’m running out of ideas on how to win this war.”

The whole table nods, and your stomach feels queasy. Mark’s fingers have stopped drumming against the table now and you can tell he’s watching you again. You can feel his gaze, warm and steady, even as your own eyes remain fixed on the dark wood of the floor beneath your bare feet. When you raise your gaze to look at him though he quickly looks away when your eyes meet his. There’s a slight flush at the tips of his ears, his jaw tightening as he picks at a thread on the sleeve of his tunic. His hand rests near yours on the table, close enough to touch with just a twitch of your hand. You don’t, but his presence cloaks you in a comforting feeling.

Cecil rubs his temples, already muttering to himself about war plans and temples and gods as he scans the large map of the Realm on the table. You can hear him continue to mumble about how he hates magic, and how this is all one massive divine headache.

Eve pushes her chair back. “Well. No sense sitting here like idiots.”

You glance up at her, broken from your trance. Her green eyes flick toward you with something akin to determination. “Come on. We’re going to the library.”

Rae rises as well, smoothing the green silks of her dress. “I’ll help too. Besides, it’s either that or I’ll stay up all night thinking about how Rex could actually be right about something.”

“I am always right,” Rex calls after her with a wink, followed by a yawn as he slumps further in his chair. Eve scoffs without even looking back at him. Rae attempts to hide the smile that creeps onto her lips. 

You rise to follow them, your frame a little shaky from the night's events. Mark is standing up as soon as you are up and out of your chair. You turn your head to glance at him, your eyes finding his own, almost like a silent communication of assurance between you both. The way he looks at you then— soft and a little helpless— makes something twist in your chest. You just nod to him, whispering a quiet ‘goodnight’ as you brush past him to catch up with Eve and Rae. They’re already halfway to the door, Eve is muttering something about how there has to be something somewhere. As you catch up with them, you spare a glance over your shoulder.

Mark is still watching you.

And you realize, as you follow Eve and Rae out of the large oak doors of the council room, that it’s not just your place in the prophecy that has you afraid. It’s the feeling growing in your chest every time you look at him. And you don’t know what to do with it.

~

The palace library is still this late at night. Eerie shadows line the walls, candle fire waves as a soft night breeze drifts through the tall rounded windows. The air smells of old books; slightly musty and earthy, a faint hint of what can only be described as vanilla and worn parchment. Tall, looming bookshelves fill the space, nearly touching the high ceilings, crammed full to the brim with texts far older than any soul still breathing. 

You, Eve, and Rae are tucked away in a quiet corner, sifting through so many different texts it makes your brain feel like it’s melting out of your ears. Reading through sources so old the pages could disintegrate if you're not careful enough. A hefty volume sits in your lap, your legs folded beneath you on the thick woven rug. The skirt of your dress fans out around you, flowy light blue fabrics cloaking your figure as your fingers trial delicately across lines of faded ink.

Eve sighs, her brow knit together as she shuts the book in her lap with a quiet thump. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing about where the sword could be.” She rises, brushing her hands on her skirt as her simple magenta dress swishes at her feet. Pink magic glows from her fingertips, soft and shimmering, as she returns the book to its place with a flick of her wrist, slotting it back amongst the other texts. Her eyes scan the shelves, already reaching for another.

Across from you, Rae grumbles, adjusting her glasses on her face and rubbing her temples, a similar expression on Eve’s. “This is hopeless,” she mutters, “I think I’ve read nearly every book in here about the sword, the God’s, the temple, the Realm’s geography… and still nothing.” 

“Rae’s cracking,” Eve mumbles as she continues to scan the shelves.

Rae looks up, deadpan. “Cracking? My brain is shattered. My mind is a soup.”

“Same,” you mumble, your fingers rubbing at your temples. “Sword soup.”

Eve slides another ancient tome from the shelf, fuzzy pink particles curling lazily in the air around her hands. She hums to herself, eyes scanning the faded title, shrugging as she brings it over to where she was sitting. Eve flops into the chair, tossing the book on top of the ever growing stack of them between you all. 

“We should probably rest soon,” she mumbles. “If the Oracle said we’re meant to find the Blade, maybe we’ll stumble across something eventually. Or maybe it’ll find us.”

“Maybe,” you echo, your voice laced with quiet and tiredness. Your fingers ghost over the page of the book in your lap, but you aren’t really reading it. Your mind drifts like a boat lost at sea, back to Ephia, to your brother’s easy laughter, to his sharp mind and stubborn heart. Aaric would’ve found the sword by now, whispers a dark voice you try your best to ignore. He was always so smart.

Before the thought can truly sink its claws in, Eve shifts her body toward Rae with all the subtlety of a cat about to knock a goblet from a table. 

“So,” she starts, drawing the word out. “Rae.”

“Oh no,” Rae says immediately, but Eve hardly pays any attention and continues on.

“You and Rex,” she teases, drawing the words out slowly, as if savoring them.

Your brows rise, curiosity stirred. “Rex?” you ask, genuinely surprised. It’s difficult to picture it in your mind. Rex is brash, just as fiery as his magic, and unapologetically loud. While undeniably skilled, his complete lack of tact often grates on your nerves. Rae, by contrast, is thoughtful, sharp, and fairly competent. You can’t even imagine Rae having an interest in him.

Rae’s face goes red instantly. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” Eve pushes, her eyes sparkling, “Because when I spoke to him yesterday, he said he thought you were pretty.” Your eyes flicker up to watch the interaction, just catching the way Rae fidgets .

“I do not care what Rex thinks,” Rae says quickly, a little too quickly, the tips of her ears turning an unmistakable shade of red. She grabs the nearest book and flips it open without looking at the cover. “He’s loud and cocky and annoying.”

“Yes, yes, yes, all true. Trust me, you get to know someone very well when your parents arrange a betrothal when your barely six years old,” Eve says, flopping her head to the side, her red hair gleaming in the candle light, “and yet I still catch you looking at him at every council meeting, and at training, and when he-”

“Eve, I think I would rather talk about anything else right now than talk about Rex,” Rae interrupts, pushing her glasses up her nose with a strained sigh. Eve grumbles to herself, crossing her arms as her head rolls back against her chair. Eve turns her gaze to you, studying you like you're a puzzle she’s trying to crack.

“How’s Mark,” Eve asks, the question obviously directed at you. You pinch your brows together, looking up from the tome in your lap again.

“He’s… as fine as he can be, everything considered,” you respond, flipping the book closed slowly, “why?”

Eve shrugs nonchalantly, her magic twisting from her fingertips, wrapping itself around a book amongst the stack between you all. It drops into her lap, a quiet plop amongst the silence. 

“He just seemed stressed at the council meeting. I figured that you would know what's up, considering all the time you two spend together.” You finally look up to meet her eyes, but she’s sifting through the book in her lap nonchalantly. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest as you think back to a few hours prior, Mark sitting beside you, his dark hair ruffled, bags underlining his brown eyes. How he got uncomfortable about being the first choice of the five of you to wield the sword. 

The weight of the world is crushing him and it’s easy for you to see; the loom of his father’s ghost over him, the pressure to assist his mother in matters of the Realm, the stress of controlling powers he hasn’t even fully discovered the extent to. And you can’t even begin to think of the implications of the second half of Eve’s words. So you just shift, your face neutral despite the way your mind wanders to matters surrounding Mark.

“He just has a lot going on, just like the rest of us.” You fiddle with the corner of the closed time in your lap, the parchment smooth under your fingers. “Between the prophecy, the Dark God’s army, and the aftermath of his father’s…” You trail off, the word death catching in your throat. You don’t finish the sentence, cutting yourself off. Your eyes start drifting off towards the pale moonlight shining through the stained glass of the library. 

Eve doesn’t push further after that.

Eventually, Eve yawns and sets her book aside. Rae begins gathering the tomes you’ve already read into a pile. The sound of worn leather and rustling parchment fills the quiet night air. And you sit for a moment longer, gazing at the dancing shadows on the walls. 

When you finally get up to leave, Rae loops her arm through yours, squeezing gently. You try to offer her a faint smile in return. Eve leads the way out, her steps slow and unhurried, her magic dimming at her fingertips as she tugs the library doors open with a quiet creak. The scent of old paper and candle wax lingering in your wake. And so does the quiet ache beneath your ribs.

~

The halls of the palace are quiet at this hour, cloaked in the kind of silence that feels more uneasy than still. Moonlight seeps in through the stained glass, casting fractured light beams across the stone floor in deep hues of violet and amber. Mark walks slowly, lost in thought, Steelsworn at his hip, though he hasn’t needed it since training the morning before with you.

He should be asleep. That’s what William would tell him, anyway. Probably accompanied with a tired laugh and a half-hearted jab about bags under his eyes, how they don’t suit a prince of the Realm. But sleep hasn’t come easy in weeks for him. He finds that his magic thrums too loudly when the world goes quiet. His mind won’t let him rest. Especially not after earlier.

He pauses at the end of a long corridor, glancing through a nearby window. The gardens below are cloaked in silver, still and quiet in the dark. Somewhere beyond them, tucked away in the castle’s east wing, he knows the library was occupied not long ago, the candles only recently snuffed. 

The image lingers in his mind; you hunched over a book, the blue of your dress spilling around you like seawater, fingers curled lightly over the fragile edge of a page. He had barely even noticed Eve and Rae were there with you. He hadn’t meant to stop by on his way back from talking with his mother and Cecil post council meeting. Hadn’t meant to look in through the half-open door when he’d passed.

But he had anyway, something stirring in his chest as he did.

He hadn’t gone in, though. Just peeked in for a heartbeat too long, long enough to feel that pull again. The one he doesn't know how to name yet. The one that keeps haunting him when he does get sleep, the one that makes his fingers twitch whenever you, the princess of Ephia, is near.

He’s still not used to thinking of you that way, not really. Sometimes you feel too distant, too out of reach for someone who talks about your brother like he was still in the room with you. For someone who paints late at night and leaves clay under your fingernails. For someone who’s kind in a quiet way, not because it’s expected of you as a princess, but because you don’t know how to be anything else but that. For someone who lets him talk about his father, how he misses him, about how he feels the crushing weight of his legacy constantly.

He saw the way you looked at him today, when Cecil brought up the Blade. The way your lips parted like you might say something, but didn’t. The way your hands curled in your lap. The way you listen when he talks, like what he’s saying matters, like you’re hanging on every word.

Hope must wield the Blade.

He doesn’t know what that means and that in itself makes his head spin. 

But he does know this: the moment the Oracle appeared in your room and spoke of Thala’s Blade, the way it looked at him and called out to him with its sickening voice—Hello, Gods’ Born—it felt like a hot brand on his skin.

He can tell everyone thinks it should be him, that he should wield the sword of hope against the people who killed his father. He’s the strongest. The prince of the Viltrum Empire. The one born from powerful blood, his father’s blood, even if that blood feels like it’s eating him alive sometimes.

But strength and worth aren’t the same, Mark knows that.

And when he looks at you, he wonders if maybe the Blade was never meant for someone like him at all. The thought stirs in his head, like a bug buzzing in his ear, that it should be you.

Mark leans his head back against the stone wall, closing his eyes for just a moment. The air is cool, sharp. His shoulders ache from training, from holding himself together in front of the council, in front of his mother, in front of you.

He wants to say something. He just doesn’t know what.

He wants to be someone who can help the ones he cares about. But how can he do that if he can’t even help himself.

~

It’s been a couple of days of searching for information on the sword. When you aren’t buried in books with Eve and Rae, your time is spent in the training yard with Mark. Sleep has been finding you easily these days despite it all, your body weary and slack, your muscles sore. 

Tonight is different though.

You're sleeping, or at least you thought you were. At least you had been. There’s no clear line between rest and waking. Only a slow, syrupy pull upward, like you’ve been drifting in a warm sea and now something tugs you to the surface. Your thoughts are soft and smudged, like charcoal rubbed too hard into parchment. Your mind is hazy, fuzzy. The bedsheet beneath you doesn't feel the same, but it did at the same time. Climbing out of bed, your bare feet touch the ground, stone cold against your feet. 

The air feels wrong.

You can hear sounds in the hallway, muffled voices, quick footsteps, a strange, electric hum that crawls beneath your skin. You move, though it doesn’t feel quite like walking. Your steps are light, almost weightless, like your body isn’t real. The torches along the corridor flicker low, their flames dimmer than they should be. The walls seem to shift in the corners of your vision, blurring, warping. Stone and smoke woven into one. 

A figure rushes past. A boy, small but swift, disappears around a corner and folds himself into the shadows. You follow, your pace slow and uncertain, drawn forward as if you’re a puppet on a string. You are inclined to think it’s Oliver until you see he’s obviously older, perhaps eleven or maybe twelve. The sound of heavy breathing and an odd buzz fills your ears as you approach the boy, curled with his legs to his chest. You crouch down, your hand reaching out to comfort him. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, your voice sounds unreal, like you yourself are just a dream. It echoes around in your skull, warped and unreal.

The boy tilts his face up to you and your heart stops. His face is younger, but still unmistakeable. You recognize his deep brown eyes, nearly black as they shimmer under thick lashes. His raven hair is flopping in his eyes a bit, tousled and wild. Tan skin is flushed as tears run down the apples of his cheeks.

“Mark…” you mumble, your heart lurching. Your thoughts spiral. What is happening? Where are you? But the dream refuses to clarify, the edges of it too soft to grasp. Mark’s smokey figure looks at you, his brows furrowed. He looks so young, so sweet, too sweet to be crying alone.

“Dad wants me to attend the council meeting,” he sniffles, his hands shaking on where they grip at his knees, “But I can’t, he doesn’t understand.” It’s his voice, but pitched higher, still wrapped in childhood.

“Why can’t you,” you say, your voice just a murmur, moving of your own accord, wishing to comfort him in this strange dream. Your fingers brush over the soft skin of his cheeks, her thumbs brushing away the tears that flow. He looks panicked, he looks scared.

“She’s there,” he says quietly, filled with hesitation. You stiffen and your heart sinks. 

“Who’s there Mark?” you prod, your voice distorted and your heart pounds against her chest.

His voice is small as he speaks. “Anissa.”

Her brows furrow. Anissa was High King Nolan’s Master of Ships. She was not only a feared magic user, but well known for her house’s fearsome fleet of ships. A name whispered sharply across council tables. Feared. Powerful. Unyielding. Your parents hated her with the kind of cold disdain reserved for those who weren’t just dangerous, but too clever. Your father hated her, your mother even more. Your mother said she was power hungry. You vaguely remember your parents  fussing over the fact that Nolan didn’t see how dangerous she truly was one night when they thought you and Aaric were asleep. Crowned in ambition, your mother said once. Aaric was told never to be alone near her if they visited the Empire, but those sentiments were never extended to you. She hasn’t been seen since Nolan’s death.

A sickenly sour feeling curls in your stomach now, stronger than memory.

“Can you tell me why she upsets you?” you ask, your hands resting on his shoulders gently. His eyes widened, shaking his head. His frame tense and suddenly panicked. You withdraw a bit, nodding, “Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

He wipes his nose with the sleeve of his tunic and he speaks again, “I want to go see Mom, but I have to walk by the council room. I’m scared.”

You stand, unsure what you're even doing in your foggy state. You reach out, “I’ll walk with you.”

He takes it, his hands shake as you lead him towards Debbie’s quarters. The world around you pulses with fog, thick and unsteady. The walls ripple, like the castle itself can’t quite remember what it is, solid or smoke, memory or dream. Each step is muffled, the ground beneath your feet barely there. But his hand stays in yours, and you don’t let go.

Time passes slow, but also so fast at the same time, you have no idea how long you walk with Mark, until the fog dissipates a bit, a door half cracked, warm flickering light shines out. Hushed voices drift into your ears as you stop just before the door. Mark grips your hand, tightly as you quietly press your ear to the door. There’s maybe two deeper voices, one more feminine one. Something compels you to listen as you pick up words, their voices low and urgent. 

“... it is not the right time. The Dark God isn’t strong enough yet.”

“We must act soon, or the Hand will grow suspicious over time.”

“Then we kill him if he notices.”

“Your ambition will get us killed, Anissa.”

“And ambition doesn’t tempt you, Conquest? War does not tempt you?”

“Enough bickering. We wait. Disposing of the King will not be easy. We have to wait for the exact perfect time. Or it will be far too suspicious.”

“Preferably when the Dark God is at his strongest.”

“The boy must go too. He’s already powerful. That power cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

Mark tugs at your hand, drawing your attention as you look down at him. His eyes are wide, uncomfortable. 

“We shouldn’t stay here. It’s not safe,” Mark whispers, “we need to keep going.”

“One moment Mark,” you respond, trying to focus more, even though he continues to tug at your hand. 

You peek around the door, just slightly. Around the council table you know all too well, stands three figures, basked in the light of a few flickering candles. A woman with short cropped hair and sharp, angled brows—Anissa. Beside her stands a grizzled older man with white hair and a heavy mustache—Conquest, the Master of War. The third is tall and stone faced, dark hair cropped close to his skull—Thragg, former Grand General of the Empire. Thragg, he used to visit your father often, another council member. You barely have time to process what you’ve seen before Mark is pulling you away, yanking you into the mist of the castle walls.

“Mark, wait–,” you say, hushed as you strain your neck back, trying to hear more of the discussion happening in the council room. But when you turn back, you no longer feel the hold of Mark’s hand. The fog thickens around you. You’re alone.

Only a fuzzy feeling, surrounded by a thick fog as the castle walls melt away around you. Your breathing picks up, your heart slamming in your chest as panic sets in. Your mind is a mess as you run into the swirling haze where Mark disappeared in, scrambled and confused. But the mist swallows your voice whole.

Suddenly, the floor shifts, reality shifts. The dream moves on.

The disorientation fades and you find yourself amongst familiar bricks, the air thick with dust from crumbled walls. You know these halls, you’ve walked them so many times as a child it’s hard to forget them. Spreading your fingers out against the crumbling stone, you find your house sigil etched into the center stone of the hallway. A pretty blue fish, with long flowing fins. 

Home, you’re home. But how? 

But it’s wrong. Muffled screams ring in your ears, the air crackles. Screams echo throughout the grand halls. Magic surges, dark, violet light streaking across the sky. And then, much to your horror, you hear your own voice. Screaming for your mother. For Aaric. You look up reluctantly and see the wall. The one that crumbled between you and them. 

Familiar voices tear your eyes away, coming face to face with someone you’d thought you’d never see again. Aaric, his face contorted in pain, staring at the walls that once protected them, the walls that now separated them. It all happens so fast, your brain is barely catching up, because your heart thumps painfully in your chest, hazy tears drip from your cheeks. 

Aaric is standing poised, your mother behind him as magic ebbs from both of their bodies. Your mother looks so determined but so frightened at the same time. She was a healer, not a fighter. Your mother wasn’t built to fight.

In front of them, Descending through the air, wrapped in ribbons of shadow, comes Anissa. She looks a bit older than when you saw her in the council room, her dark hair is still cropped short, her eyes still narrowed and mean. Lean, powerful, and terrifying. She’s clad in typical Viltrumite wear, white and grey metal, a sword almost as big as her clutched in her hand.

“Shallan,” Anissa says, her feet touching down on the rubble, her voice creaks in your ears like rusted metal, “Still lovely, even under such grim circumstances.”

Your mother tenses, shifting uncomfortably. “Wish I could say the same,” she says bitterly, her voice raw from screaming. Her face is twisted up, like how it would when you or Aaric broke something in your youths.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Anissa says, wind curling her brown hair, her face sour. “Your family would have lived, had you bent the knee. Married Aaric to me.” Your mother grips Aaric’s shoulder, her eyes void of anything other than despair. 

“And I would rather die than let you touch my son,” she spits, her voice cracking, tears, angry and hot run down her face, “I would rather die than bend the knee to the traitors that killed Nolan. You have forsaken him for a deep evil.”

Anissa just tilts her head slightly, her lips quirked slightly. Her smile is thin, cruel. That sour feeling in your belly returns. “Oh Shallan, how little you understand about the Dark God.”

Aaric holds his stern expression, despite all that's being said he doesn’t even flinch. But you can see the way his throat bobs, how his powers thicken the air around him. He’s scared, he would never admit it but he is. Your heart is in your throat as you watch the interaction, frozen as if your veins have been filled with ice.

“One more chance,” Anissa says, her voice low and serious, “bend the knee and the Dark God may find use for you.”

She barely even finishes her sentence before Aaric advances, a blast of magic surges from his palm, hitting Anissa squarely. The air erupts in a crackling roar. Anissa skids backwards, her head snapping towards your brother.

“I will never kneel to the likes of you, traitor,” Aaric spits, his gait steady, confident, and powerful. Anissa just regains her balance, cracking her neck, before advancing on Aaric. They clash, a flurry of magic shoots through the air, the sound of sword metal colliding.

You pull yourself from your daze to run to grab for your mother, to pull her out of the way of the fighting, but your hand goes right through her, like you’re a ghost. Your limbs move so slow it’s like you’re moving through honey, because you could touch Mark in your last ‘dream’. But you can’t here. This has to be some cruel trick, to watch your mother, to watch Aaric die and be fully unable to help in any way. Tears prick your eyes as frustration sets in, attempting to cling to your mother, even though you continue to phase through her. Your eyes are trained on Aaric and Anissa. 

They continue to exchange blows, a flurry of swords and magic twisting around them as they fight. Aaric lands a heavy blow on Anissa, knocking her in the nose with the hilt of his sword, curling his magic around her ankle to slam her back into the ground. He’s breathing heavily, watching her still form, turning to look at your mother, to look at you. 

“Mom– Mom are you okay?” Aaric shouts, making his way over to your mother, his shoulders heaving from the fight. It happens so fast, the misty dream state barely hides the way Anissa surges up behind him, so fast you could blink and miss it. Your mother screams. You scream. Aaric doesn’t, because his empty eyes are staring at you, his head rolling on the ground as his body slumps a few feet away. Anissa lowers her sword, coated in Aaric’s blood, glaring down at your mother. 

“Aaric!” your mother cries, her eyes wide and terrified as his name tears from her throat. Anissa rolls his slack head under her foot, as if he was nothing more than a bug under her shoe. A horrifying sickness seeps through your body, unable to take your eyes off of your twin. Your baby brother. His jaw slack. His eyes vacant and dull.

“All who oppose the Dark God must fall,” Anissa speaks, her voice a hiss, “I’ll reunite you with your husband and son. And when I find your daughter, her blood will stain my sword. Your family will be whole again. My final kindness I’ll do for you, Shallan.”

Your mother, tears in her eyes, rage surging below her stare, is strong in her final moments. “I may die here today, but you will not win. One day you will find yourself at the end of the road, Anissa. And you will have no one to save you, not even your God.”

Anissa simply stares at her, the breeze ruffling her hair, her face splattered with blood. Aaric’s blood. 

“Whatever brings you comfort, your Highness,” she says, her voice cold, a horrifyingly emotionless expression on her face. Anissa’s sword swings down swiftly, lodging directly in the front of your mother’s skull. You screech, scrambling forward as if you can save her. But you just fall, suddenly floating through the air, as if you fell through the floor. Your eyes squeeze shut, begging for this to stop, your heart breaking, your stomach plagued with a sickness you don’t know you’ll ever be able to get rid of.

You feel like you're on the ground again when you open your eyes. The grass beneath your bare feet is bright, the scene laid out before you is a sprawling lake, the sun beating down on your tear stained face. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t all fake, an evil twist of your mind. You find yourself squinting, your shaky legs pulling you towards the lake as if you’re just a puppet on a string. Before you is a woman, tall, gorgeous, ethereal. Soft features and deep beautiful skin that glows with divine warmth, staring out at the lake, water lapping at her feet. She doesn’t turn as you approach.

“Oh sweet dreamer, you’re quite a far way from home.”

You freeze, her voice ringing in her ears like she’s in your head speaking. The figure radiates warmth, basking in a feeling of what can only be described as a yearning for something better. 

It shakes you then, your mind mush and your heart squeezing in your chest. This is Thala. This is the Goddess of Hope. 

“Thala,” you whisper, a shake coating your voice.

“I need help,” you find yourself saying, as if you don’t have control of your own words. Thala hums, her gaze still fixated on the lake. The sound is soft and sorrowful.

“I know. That’s why you’re here.” 

A thick quiet falls over you both.

Thala stands, still has a statue, her gaze fixed on the water as it ripples. She’s draped in robes that ripple like liquid starlight, the crease with every brush of the wind. Her hair coils down her back in long, intricate braids. The lake laps gently at her feet, the water so clear you can see every stone that lies underneath it as it reflects the blue sky.

“I assume you mean to ask about my Blade,” she murmurs.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yes. The stories aren’t quite clear…” you say quietly, as if you speak too loud then she will disappear. Thala finally moves, tilting her head, the faintest but saddest of smiles of her lips. “I find stories are often where truth is stored when the world is not ready for it.”

On shaky legs, you step forward as your bare feet sink into the soft Earth. “Can you help us? Help us find it.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine as Thala’s eyes meet yours, shimmering with a sadness that is ancient and deep. “This place,” she says, half ignoring your question, lifting a hand toward the lake, “once bore witness to the sorrow of a thousand lost things, of betrayal, my loss of hope. Here, the world thins.”

You follow her gaze. The lake stretches endlessly before you, calm and unbroken. A mirror of the sky. Your reflection does not ripple on its surface.

“But I don’t see anything,” you whisper, eyes searching the blue water for anything. A temple. A sword. A sign.

“You won’t,” Thala says. “Not yet.”

Your chest tightens, confusion infecting every cell in your brain. “Then how—?”

“The Blade does not wait for command. It answers only to those who carry hope like a torch through the dark.” She pauses, then steps slowly into the water, the ripples gentle around her ankles. It’s as if the lake welcomes her, like she’s coming home. “It will not show itself to the bold, or the strong, or the brave. Only the worthy.”

The word rings in your ears like a bell toll. Worthy. Because who decides what is ‘worthy’. The vagueness of Thala’s words, the vagueness of the Oracle’s words. Too much left to chance, too much unanswered.

“Worthy of what?” you ask. “The prophecy? The fight? Of your sword?”

Thala turns her face toward you, and her expression is impossibly kind but also filled with what you can only guess is regret. “Worthy of bearing light when all seems lost. Of protecting the Realm not for glory, but because it must be done.”

“I’m not like the others,” you murmur, the reality of what's happening is setting in. Your mind is a mess of grief, fear, and confusion. “I don’t have magic. I’m not the strongest. I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“But you are here,” Thala says simply. “And that matters more than you know.”

You look at her, tears clouding your vision. You don't understand, this shouldn’t be happening. How can this be happening? “Why me? Why are you talking to me?”

The Goddess turns back toward the lake, ignoring your question again, her voice fading like morning mist. “When the time is right, it will rise. But only for the one who walks with hope in their blood.”

She raises her hand, and the surface of the lake shimmers, glowing faintly, the light pounding like a heartbeat pulsing just beneath the water. 

“And what if we fail?” you ask, breath hitching.

Her voice softens. “Then the Realm will fall. But hope... has a stubborn way of surviving. Just like you five.”

And then—

The wind changes.

The sun dims.

And you’re falling back into the dark.

~

When your eyes snap back open, you’re gasping. 

The first thing you feel is cold, a bone chilling feeling that seeps through your body. Water wraps around your lower half, ending at your waist, soaking your nightdress. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the sleepy haze that still clouds your vision. The gardens around you are the same as you have walked plenty of times before; you’re awake this time, not in bed, but in the pond by the patch of flowers Oliver favors when he picks you flowers for your room. 

Pink streaks of dawn crawl slowly across the pale blue sky. The surrounding grass shines as dew drops cling to them. A warmth anchors you, cutting through the chill of the water. Hands grip your arms, firm but gentle, holding you in place. One arm cradles the small of your back, holding you steady as your balance threatens to give out.

Still in a daze, you turn your head to the side, meeting Mark’s brown eyes, filled to the brim with worry. He’s standing in the water with you, the sleeves of. He’s just as soaked as you are, the water lapping at his hips, fully clothed. His tunic is dark with pond water as it clings to his stomach, his eyes wide as his hands grip at your arms.

“Hey, hey— you’re awake,” he says, breathless. “You were,” he swallows thickly, his eyes frantic but tinged with relief. “You were sleepwalking. My mom and I saw you roaming the halls. You just walked straight outside. I didn’t know what to do. You wouldn’t stop.”

You stare at him, his voice a foggy blur in your mind.He’s rambling, his hands gripping your arms in an attempt to ground you. His fingers are tight on your arms, like he’s afraid you might slip away again. They’re the only warmth you feel as the morning breeze and chilly water washes over you. You think. You think about the lake, the vision, Thala and her words. It hits you then as you imagine the map of the Realm that you’ve all been staring at for days. The large lake that sits smack in the middle of the Realm. Middle Man’s Lake. Where all the borders meet. It must be there, the rolling hills, the way the water reflects the heavens above. It all washes over you suddenly, determination crawling through her cold blood. All the stories make sense, the place where the two Realms touch.

“I called your name, but, you–you didn’t answer. Mom said not to startle you, but then you came out here and walked into the pond I couldn’t–”

You cut him off, your voice soft but gasping. “I know where it is.”

Mark freezes, “What?”

“The Blade,” you gasp, your hand desperately reaching up to curl into the fabric of his tunic to steady yourself, “it’s in a lake—the lake. Middle Man’s Lake. Thala showed me���she was there, I saw her, Mark.” Your words rush out of you like a waterfall, your mind racing to catch up with your mouth as you speak.

His brows draw together, concern flickering behind his eyes. “Wait—slow down. What do you mean she showed you?”

“It wasn’t a dream, not fully. It was so real, Mark. It was like—” your breath hitches, heart racing. “It was real. I could feel her. Thala. She spoke to me. She told me where it is. Said the Blade only reveals itself to the worthy.”

The two of you stand there, soaked in pond water and pale morning light. For a moment, it’s quiet again. Only the rustle of early wind through garden hedges and your heaving breaths. The hush of water lapping at your legs. Mark doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes roam your shaking figure, taking in the waterlogged fabrics that cling to your body like a second skin.

Mark’s eyes rise again to search yours, his hand still braced protectively on your back, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure. Do you believe me?” you whisper, suddenly self conscious. You sound crazy, like a grieving girl who’s real life has invaded her dreams. “This doesn’t sound—Gods, I sound—”

“Yeah,” he says, voice soft. “I believe you.”

The tension in your body melts, causing your knees to wobble as your body trembles in the cold morning air. Mark shifts you in his grasp, pulling you closer to steady you. 

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs, half to himself and half to you, he’s close enough that you can feel his breath brush your temple. Your chest constricts, the sudden realization blooming in the space between you, the space that’s barely there. You hadn't noticed the way your body leaned into his until now. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed him there. How you clutched to him like you were afraid you would be pulled back into a dream. 

You blink rapidly, pulling in a breath as you step back slightly, the water rippling around you.

“I need to tell the others,” you say quickly, shaking the fog from your thoughts. “We need to go there. We have to go there. Soon.”

Mark’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, but just nods. As you let him guide you out of the pond, water trailing behind you like a cape of waves, your mind races. Because now the war begins. Things are getting very real, very quickly, but the path forward is clear.

Get the Blade.

Win the war.

Save the Realm and those you’ve come to hold most dear.

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter four

Synopsis: Does he hate you? If asked maybe he would say yes. But no one is asking.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Chapter: 4/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

Note: Kind of filler, its a little hard to maintain enemies to lovers and also make his POV more interesting. I am personally a sucker for when the female character hates the guys guts, and the guy POV is just head over heels, so it might move more in that direction as the story progresses.

“Fuck, another one?” In what felt like either a week, or a century to Rex, there had been three additions to the team. Immortal as leader, Bulletproof as…whatever Bulletproof does, and the surprise addition of Shapesmith quite literally yesterday. Rex angled his head to the side, looking at the newcomer up and down. Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose but continued talking. Something about working with the Guardians but not really being a Guardian- whatever he was saying, Rex did not care. “Sure, why not just add her to the team, apparently it is a free-for-all around here anyways!” He snapped a glance at Shapesmith who just smiled, which made him more irritated.

Cecil continued to talk as he walked away, but he did not care. The Guardians of the Globe was such a highly respected group before the original team was…massacred. Part of him wondered if that was an ending that all of them were headed towards. With how often their asses were kicked it was starting to feel like it. Maybe that was why Cecil kept putting more and more suboptimal members on the team. He was still angry over the addition of Shapesmith. They did not even know who he was and yet he is on the team? Bullshit.

Robot had even been replaced, and he had been with Rex since he was on the Teen Team. As much as Rex was annoyed by the person who stole his DNA, he liked The Immortal much less. Rex grumbled a bit to himself in annoyance over the whole situation, leaving the common area.

Maybe Eve had made the right decision in leaving the Guardians. Rex considered the idea of trying to team up with her for about two seconds before fully remembering why she left the Guardians. His fresh interaction with Duplikate was still on his mind from earlier. He had gone into the gym and turned tail almost immediately when seeing her. Now that he was standing in here alone a few hours later it was all coming back.

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her, but it still stung that she had cheated on him with Immortal. Geriatric fuck. For a moment he started to feel a sliver of guilt for cheating on Eve in the first place, but he quickly pushed that feeling away to focus on the bigger problem. Cecil. Admittedly he did not know exactly what he was going to do about this particular problem, but he was definitely going to give it a good fester.

His eyes trailed over the barbell that he had seen Kate using earlier. “Fuck.” He whispered to himself aloud, rubbing his temple. Maybe he could fester elsewhere. Exiting the gym he considered his options. No doubt, the newbie was still making her rounds in the common area. He could not deny a part of him was curious as to how she handled the other members. His first interaction with Monster Girl flashed in his mind. God he was good at bad first impressions. But of course, none of this was truly his fault, after all, some people are just born dicks. He could not help it. And look how it turned out now, he and Amanda were…friends? Fuck did he consider any of these people friends? Glorified coworkers? He started to grumble to himself at this realization. There was mutual respect with Rudy up to a certain point, but he also stole Rex’s DNA so that’ll cause a hell of a drift.

He reentered the common area still lost in thought; you were talking to Shapesmith. Leaning against the wall by the door he took in where everyone was, but his eyes quickly returned to you after hearing Shapesmith exclaim something. You immediately went ridged and glanced around, your eyes landing on him for just a split second. After an awkward smile, you turned back to Shapesmith. Figures. Of course, she’s all buddy-buddy with the newest addition. She basically was Shapesmith. Rex let out a huff, his attention landing on the group that contained Rae, Immortal, Kate and, Black Samson.

Kate and Immortal were standing side by side, just a fraction too close while discussing something with the other two people in their group. Disgusting. For a moment he considered talking to Cecil about discouraging romantic relationships on the team, but somehow he knew Cecil did not care.

Bulletproof walked through the door Rex was leaning next to, catching his attention.

“Hey-”

Bulletproof stopped and turned, already seeming not very enthused at the fresh opportunity to have one-on-one time talking to Rex. “What?”

“Can you believe this shit?” Rex was not sure if he was talking about the new arrival or about Kate and Immortal, or if Bulletproof even knew about Kate and Immortal. Why would he? He just joined. Ugh, Rex was suddenly reminded that Bulletproof was for all, intents and purposes, barely less of a newbie than that person talking to Shapesmith.

Bulletproof didn’t say anything, looking over at the scene in front of them for a few moments before looking at Rex again. “I don’t know man, I don’t really see the big deal.”

“Seriously? This is a complete fucking joke! Shapesmith? We don’t even know who he is! And now some new Cecil hire? When I first joined, I had to go through trials and prove myself worth of this.” Rex ran a hand down his face at the memory of Moster Girl just about beating him to a pulp. “What can she even do?”

“Why don’t you just ask her instead of standing over here and staring like a creep?”

“I don’t look like a creep-!”

“And I am not sure that I am the right person for you to try rallying with. Because I am also a ‘Cecil hire’ as you say. Or did you forget?” Oh right. “I just want some coffee; you got any other insults you want to throw my way first though? I’d hate to leave before you’ve finished.” Bulletproof said, taking a few steps away from Rex.

“No, I think that’s all I got for now, don’t linger on my behalf.” Rex deadpanned, folding his arms as Bulletproof walked away. He wanted to make a joke about finishing but none of them seemed to enter his mind fast enough. All this change was throwing him off his rhythm in the ways of sarcasm.

Bulletproof walked up to them, and they conversed for a few moments before Bulletproof continued walking in another direction without getting any coffee. Damn, fifteen seconds talking to the girl and he was already turning away without what he went to get. A small sliver of satisfaction filled Rex at the thought that he was justified in his dislike for the person. That sliver quickly vanished though as he watched her say a few words to Shapesmith and then follow Bulletproof. He turned around and now they were talking- Okay why do I care? Rex turned his head back to the group with Immortal and Duplikate and groaned. Why couldn’t there be some emergency right now? Villians only seemed to try leveling cities when he was sitting down to relax or go to bed. He was sure Cecil would call them to action the moment he decided to just go sit in his room. No choice but to stay.

Rex pushed himself off the wall with a sigh, walking over to Shapesmith. As he got closer, he fully took in the scene. The coffee pot was hanging off the counter and there was a sizable mess on the floor. “What happened here?”

Shapesmith turned to look at him with a smile, “I believe it is what they call brewing, it’ll be ready momentarily, have no fear.”

“Where the fuck are you from?”

__

Rex ended up cleaning up the mess. Not without complaint, but after watching Shapesmith try to pick up shards of glass with his bare hands he figured this was about to be a safety hazard. And he did not want to deal with getting someone to come and take care of his new teammate. Cleaning up a mess of glass and water is much more complicated than it would seem, and there was a second where Rex genuinely considered just igniting the pieces and seeing if they would simply disappear in a chain explosion. But he also already got told off for blowing up garbage in the base. So, the traditional method would have to do.

It reminded him of the blood streak that used to provide such an eyesore in the early days of being in the Guardians. A reminder of those who had died in the very place he was standing. These new additions did not earn the right to get rid of that in the same way the rest of them had. It was a simple thought that slowly started to eat away at Rex. The Guardians of the Globe had been through so much, Bulletproof, Shapesmith, the new girl, they knew nothing about the trials they had gone through. Immortal, unfortunately, had to be excluded from this, since he was killed with the other previous Guardians. Rex still did not like him though. Does someone who technically died with the others still get the same amount of respect if they did not stay dead?

After dropping the broom and trash off in the kitchen Rex headed a little further down the hallway. The sound of Rudy and Amanda talking lured him in as he heard the familiar sound of small talk.

“Killdeer?” Must be her alias.

“A type of bird, correct?”

“Yes. The bird.”

“They are known for pretending to be injured to draw away predators. So they are notable for being unassuming, is that what you are?” Rex started to think about his earlier annoyance at her not having earned her spot. Fester. Rot.

“Notable? Well, I hope so-”

“Unassuming.” Unassuming? She did not deserve to be a Guardian, but was Rudy really implying what Rex thought he was? He entered the room and immediately interjected himself into the situation. Fester.

“Birds don’t have superpowers.” Real clever. He almost wanted to roll his eyes at the non-statement.

“Your point being, Rex?” Taking a few moments to come up to the group, Rex took Killdeer in. Her height and stature, she was remarkably ordinary almost. And was wearing civilian clothes rather than a suit. It really was like just anyone walked in off the street.

“My point is just that it’s a stupid name.” He crossed his arms and looked at her more closely. She did not return the scolding glare but instead glanced over at Robot a few times. Did she think he was going to help her? Irritation started to form at the fact she seemed determined not to speak for herself.

“Seriously? What do you want man?” Amanda said.

“What do you even fuckin’ do anyways?” He muttered with disdain, it had better be good if she was being granted membership without being screened by the other members. His gaze did not leave her.

“I, uh, heal.”

Oh, that is rich. A glorified nurse. Just what the team needed. No telepathy, or the ability to create illusions, you know useful things. She was here to do what most of the people’s bodies here do already at an accelerated rate. Unless she is able to regrow other’s teeth, Rex was still a little jealous that Mark could do that.

“Oh, you ‘uh heal’. I am glad we got that covered! I mean come on! Don’t you guys see how ridiculous this is? I feel like I am going crazy! What is Cecil thinking?” Rex returned his gaze to you and was met immediately by a very unimpressed look. Not even the flat anger that he is used to, just instantaneous disinterest. Harsh. But Rex decided to double down, the festering getting to him. “We already have all kinds of high-tech what’s-its here that we can get treated with after battles. I should know, I have had to be put together plenty of times after fights.” He looked at the other two who were listening in, and the look on Amanda’s face told him he was not making the good argument he thought he was. “We do not need Nurse Joy over here.” He said this to Rudy and Amanda, trying to reiterate his initial point. “You are pointless.” He said this directly to you. His brow furrowed tightly.

You proceed to tell him how your powers save the GDA in funding, but it still does not seem like a good reason. Cecil never seemed concerned about funding before, and he had not gotten on them directly about cutting costs. Or maybe he had, and Rex had not been paying attention. Maybe this makes more sense than he would like to admit. She finishes by clarifying that she is not able to regrow limbs and how she accelerates the healing process- whatever.

“You hear that, Rex? No regrowing limbs, I am guessing that means she can’t change your micro either.” Rex cocked his head slightly at Amanda, getting major déjà vu from their first meeting.

Running out of good reasons to dislike her addition, he started to throw out the basest complaint there is when it comes to government-run operations. Wasting tax dollars.

“You pay taxes?” The joke does not fit the tone of the current conversation. Rex cannot help but purse his lips together and look at Rudy as he begins to speak. If anyone else had said that he probably would have exhaled a short laugh. But it was not anyone else, and she did not get to get out of this by simply making a joke.

Rudy reiterated basically what she had already said. Rex gave him an incredulous look and Rudy gave a halfhearted shrug. Guess there was not much left to be said. Rex did not have another good argument to come up with, but he still was not convinced of her necessity to the team. “Well, I do not like it.”

After a brief few moments of silence, she glanced to the side, looking like she was listening to something. She probably had an earpiece in. And like clockwork, she began to say her goodbyes.

She addressed Rudy and Amanda and then turned to the last person who was standing in the group. “Rex.” She said with a kind smile. For a moment Rex almost felt bad, he had been giving her a ridiculously hard time all morning. She had pretty eyes. He noticed rather begrudgingly how they crinkled slightly with the smile. Rex could feel his face scrunch slightly in concentration, he was not entirely sure why but at this very moment he felt the need to study her face. Commit it to memory. Maybe if he knew her face well, he could avoid it more quickly after seeing it. Right? Logically his brain should register her in a crowd quicker the better he knows the curve of her lips. Definitely an important detail.

And with that, she walked away. Leaving Rudy, Amanda, and Rex standing around like idiots. Before Rex could come up with something to fill the silence, maybe another grumble about not liking the situation, Rudy spoke.

“This is odd.” Rex’s gaze snapped onto Rudy.

“Why do you think?” Amanda asked.

“It just is very sudden. Like Rex said.” Ha, it was a good point to make, he knew it. “And she’s not particularly… extraordinary. Her explanation makes sense, but with Cecil is never that simple. Or at least it never has been.” He trailed off a bit and put a hand up to his chin. “Just a healer…”

“Do you think Cecil has ulterior motives?” Amanda asked, tilting her head. “She seemed kind of, well, nice. To be honest. If he does do you think she knows?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Well glad we figured that one out,” Rex interjected starting to feel frustrated.

“I will have to learn more about her. We just do not know enough right now.”

“So what? We watch her?” Rex questioned.

“We watch her.” Rudy repeated.

__

Several days passed with hardly any mention of the newest addition. A few minor altercations with some lower-league villains occurred, but no one experienced any injuries, so she was not called in. Rex also learned that she technically was not part of the Guardians, but was contracted, kind of like Mark. It put him mildly at ease, for more reasons than the fact that he did not think she deserved to be there. It was also starting to feel just a little crowded on base. Between avoiding Immortal and Kate and dealing with the awkward silences when Shapesmith was around, it was almost too much to bear.

Originally planning on showering, Rex now found himself entering the common room where he saw Rae. When he had entered the shower-room he heard all too familiar giggles coming from the closest stall and immediately turned tail.

Rae was tiredly rubbing her neck will discussing something with Amanda. Her gaze landing on Rex as he got closer, she then hurriedly beckoned him over.

“Rex, we’re thinking about drinking tonight, some of the team has already said they aren’t interested, but you think you’ll come?”

Drinks sounded amazing. Nothing like the embrace of alcohol to take your mind off every individual problem of the Guardians. But if everyone was invited, then the likelihood was, that so was Kate. And he was not in the mood to deal with her. “Uh, no I don’t think so.”

“What? I have never seen you refuse drinks before.” Amanda jeered, arching one of her brows.

“Come on it’s just going to be a simple relaxing evening, Rex.” Rae pulled the headpiece of her suit back, smoothing out her hair. “You deserve it, I deserve it, the whole team deserves it.” She returned her gaze to Rex and sighed after a moment. “Kate won’t be there.” Rae rolled her eyes.

“Well, who said that’s why I didn’t want to come?” Rex frowned.

“Just come for drinks Rex. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Fine, but it had better be something strong.” Rex spoke with an edge of reluctance to his tone.

__

“Are you shitting me?” Shit, he had been so concerned with the potential presence of Kate he forgot about you. You tensed as he entered the room and looked back at him, eyebrows knitted in concern.

“Hey Rex.” Rae squints at him and gives him a ‘shut up’ look, before mouthing ‘sorry’ at Killdeer.

Did Rae do this intentionally? God leave it to her to try and bridge gaps in the team. This does not even have anything to do with her. He repeated her words from earlier back to her, parroting her tone. “What is this bullshit, Rae?”

Rae gave him a guilty shrug and opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the cool tone of Rudy’s voice. He was asking you more about your abilities, Rex could recognize what he was doing a mile away. He was not just interested in you, he was checking off boxes, collecting more information. Rudy was probably analyzing everything you said, debating whether you was lying or not. This was something Rex wanted to know more about, his attention left Rae and turned to the newly blossoming conversation.

“-would your stab wound begin to heal as soon as the sharp object was removed?”

“You trying to plan ahead?” Deflecting, not a great sign as far as innocence goes.

“I think? I have not really had to try. But if I have ever cut myself while cooking or anything like that, it’s healed basically before my eyes. But couldn’t you just learn that from my file?”

Rudy and Rex’s gaze immediately met; this was the first bit of incriminating evidence that they physically had. More than hunches.

“What?” She said, looking around at the other teammates.

“We don’t have access to each other files-”

__

An awkward confrontation followed but eventually was somewhat explained away. Something they would revisit later. Towards the end of the evening, Rex was starting to actually enjoy himself somewhat. Rae had returned to the Cecil and Donald debate, which Rudy refused to participate in it. He just gave them all incredulous looks and continued to cut in occasionally, to ask Killdeer questions. Shapesmith eventually returned too, but in Rex’s opinion, he did not add anything of consequence to the conversation and was easily ignored.

The more drinks he had the more he felt his gaze rest on the newcomer. He still felt that earlier determination to memorize her face, assuredly just to avoid her. The first few times she caught him he quickly looked away, but eventually, he just stared. If he had drank a little less maybe he would feel how awkward this was, but he could not quite rip his eyes away.

A small thought popped into his mind. A quiet one, hardly audible. She was pretty. She did not just have pretty eyes or a pleasing curve of the lip. But she was actually pretty.

Now he looked away. His gaze landed on the table in front of them. Somehow this had to be related to Rudy’s suspicions. Maybe her powers encompassed drawing people in. Making them comfortable. If Rex thought about it long enough it made sense. She was still a worthless addition, even if she just so happened to be easy to look at for…twenty minutes straight? Was that really the time?

Rex was drawn out of his thoughts at the sound of her saying goodbye. By the time he looked up he hardly caught a glance before she was gone. He turned to see Rae giving him a knowing look, which he immediately scoffed at. But his gaze quickly returned to the door.

Side effects of her powers or not, this was not ideal.

Author's Note: I started to get writer's block pretty hard midchapter. So I worked on Chapter 5 when I did not know what to do in this chapter. So chapter five is about a third done, and there's a nice amount of forced proximity hehe

Divider credit: @/ saradika

Chapter five

[silvernight-m]

CAN I HAVE JAKE WITH MY 160CM HEIGHT? PLS🥺

Out of curiosity, which Oscar characters do you think would like to be with a short s/o? (And which ones do you think would like a tall s/o?)

𝐎𝐬𝐜 𝐈𝐬𝐜 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒/𝐎

*rubs hands together in 5'1* I'm writing this with the s/o being somewhere under 5'2. Ty for the ask!!!

Characters: Cecil Dennis, Jack Jackson, Jake Lockley Warnings: None

𝐂𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐬

Will be condescending about it and not mean it. Goes "Awww" when you do things because you're so small and condensed and adorable, even if you're angry, he gets a form of cuteness aggression.

Adores spooning you, squeezing you into him with his arms around your torso like you're his teddy bear. Also loves you spooning him and does call you his "little backpack".

Loves to have you across his lap sideways when watching tv and rests his head against you in some way.

If you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him he'll swoon.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

Will be condescending about it and mean it. Chuckles and teases you when you can't reach something and have to ask him for help, but he won't admit he puts things on the high shelf on purpose every now and again.

His teasing is in fun, because he refuses to actually underestimate you. If you're staying at his trailer, you're trusted with the same tasks of tending to the homestead that he does if you're physically capable. Your height isn't a hold back to him, its just as another attribute just like your hair length, albeit one he finds particularly cute.

It does give him an ego boost to have height on you and he does dearly love to bend down and give you a cheeky kiss.

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲

He takes on a traditional role in relationships, in a chivalrous, gentleman kind of way. He absolutely does not seek stereo-typically submissive partners, nor even feminine or female ones, but if you have a shorter height than him it will make him melt.

Won't grab things for if its out of reach unless you asks, he refuses to make you feel lesser when you're there and capable yourself. When you're not there, you'll wake up to your favourite mug down and set for you, or a vase you'd mentioned wanting to get down from the top shelf is now on the counter, newly washed and filled with flowers.

Picks you up to talk you over any puddles or even place you in the car. Picks you up to put you into bed. Picks you up to put you in a bath he ran for you. Picks you up to kiss you.

He will make a few little comments about it, with a smirk. He's sassy, he can't help it.

[authorautism]

Pretty Fly For A Vilturmite~

Mohawk!Mark x GN!Hero!Alt!Reader

Word Count: 936

Warnings: Suggestive, Canon typical violence, Alcohol A/n: I wanna test writing some invincible stuff and this song fits mohwak Mark so well.

Standing in the ruined city I take a breath having taken down another of these invincible variants has been both a bigger and smaller challenge then I expected. Though I know my breather wont last long as Cecil chirps in my ear for the next one to take down.

"The prison nearby is in chaos try and do what you can there." Sighing I fix my suit as best I can before facing the next one. Though chaos seems to be an understatement as I watch the guards attempt to contain the newly freed prisoners.

"Pathetic you call this a jail!" Turning my attention with his yelling I see him Invincible with a mohawk?

"What the hell is next." Carefully I try and asses the best way to finish this fight quickly. But I am not granted much luck as he turns towards me a crazed grin on his face.

"Oh, shit they have you as what a hero. That's hilarious!" He jeers flying down towards. I roll my shoulders before I attack. Start simple, test the waters they're not as strong as you think, I remind myself throwing aa punch into face.

"Awe, nothing to say for yourself?" Mark recovers quickly from the blow rubble shifts around him as he gets up.

"Nothing to say to some wannabe punk." Throwing a large chunk of concrete at him. It's almost like that guy at the local bars that thinks he's hot shit.

My distraction is all he needs to finally land a blow of his own crashing into some of the remaining pavement I frown.

"Didn't expect that one huh? Plus it's not my fault your Mark is a fucking loser." He grins flying towards me as I get up "Just because he couldn't pull this off doesn't make me a poser." Quickly I knock his feet from beneath him as I stand.

"You're right but this shit does." Looking down at him I'm surprised to see his face flushed a soft pink. God don't tell me.

"Are you getting off to this?" Disgust litters my tone.

"Can you blame me? Prancing around in what black and leather like that what kind of hero are you anyways." He stands facing me his smirk returns.

"Hey, why don't you and me get outta here instead?" Pointing to the side I scoff ready to deny him. But I mean after I take this guy out it'll be more and more fighting this might be as close to a break as I get.

"You know what fuck it sure." My answer surprises us both Mark stands stunned face flushing again before he regains his cool.

"Hell yea, know you'd say that." Laughing at his attempt to play cool I grab his arm to lead him away.

"Come on before I change my mind."

"Whatever you say pretty~" Dragging him along I find one of the few standing bars left.

"I mean I 'preciate the gesture but alcohol doesn't really do it for me..." He looks around as I let go of his arm to reach over the bar for a bottle.

"Well good it's not for you." Taking a swig I feel the burn roll down my throat the taste didn't matter I just need to loosen up a bit.

"Well if it that good don't hog it." Mark takes the bottle from me taking a bigger swig his smug grin as I shake my head.

"You're a piece of work you know." I scoff shaking my head.

"Sure but don't forget you're the one that agreed to this. Don't start givin me the cold shoulder now babe." Rolling my eyes I can't protest for all his peacocking this isn't just a break for me. In his own cocky way he's appealing.

"So what's your whole stick then. Got some secret crush on your mark you're trynna live through with me or something?" Breaking me from my thoughts I laugh.

"No, I actually don't even know him much. I just thought this would be a good break from all that bullshit and you aren't awful to look at." I tease watching the pink hue decorate his face again.

"I mean I can work with that I guess." He takes another swig and hands me back the bottle. "I've won pretty things over from worse after all."

"Fishing for a compliment or something?" I take another shot with a grimace licking the excess alcohol from my lips.

"Ha, like I gotta work for this." He scoffs though his eyes are drawn to my lips as he follows the action.

"Oh, really?" I hum walking towards him confident in my stride I set the bottle down on one of the few standing tables. "What makes you say that?" Face to face once more I can make out minor details on his face with ease.

"Oh yea?" He taunts back grin on his face as his hands ghost across my waist. Sick of his words I shut him up with a kiss lingering in the action. He's not bad at this. Snapping out of the suddenness the kiss turns searing as we continue or earlier battle in a new way.

"Fuck didn't see you had your tongue pierced." He comments face pink and lips puffy.

"Got anymore piercing I should know about? Especially ones I can't see." His words are suggestive and despite myself I grin and shrug.

"You'll just have to wait and see wont you." This time he initiates. Slowly the battle outside of us fades into background static as I focus on putting this cocky bastard in his place.

[writefightandflightclub]

“Yes man” (Cecil Dennis {fuck me, how did I get here} x fem!reader)

Summary: Blurby McBlurbFace. Mainly chat, slight fluff, smut, pining / friends to lovers vibes.

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Warnings: alcohol consumption; drug use mentions (weed); smoking; dumbification of Cecil, I guess. Mommy kink if you squint. Public erections / handjob sorta, premature ejaculation / cum in pants. Mentions of dead fish but no fish were harmed. Actually, a surprising number of animal metaphors. Oops. Rimming I’m sorry that one snuck in very last minute Omg.

A/n: having a shitty mental health day (boo) and this Cecil blurb (whilst not my best) is my self-care ☺️ I don’t remember his character well aside from wet bloody cat boy, but I’m damn sure not rewatching that again so this will have to do 😅. Feedback appreciated! 🧡 (Is the rimming too much? 🙈) Not proofed and I’m almost positive autocorrect will have screwed me over.

Also totally inspired by @my-secret-shame’s meme and @foxilayde’s amazing blurb. I will not pretend to have had an original idea! 🧡

“Come onnnn, Cecil,” you whine, poking him in his soft belly with your index finger. He giggles lightly, almost like a hiccough. “It’s always me coming up with the ideas. What do you wanna do next?”

He turns his head as though in slow motion. Moves as if he’s underwater, this one - at least when he’s got food and several beers in him (which is most of the time). He looks up. Blinks at you; dumbly. “What do you mean?”

Eh. You’d really thought your statement had been quite clear.

You resist the urge to pinch his cheek and tell him It’s a good job you’re pretty.

“I mean, that I suggest things, and you go along with them.”

He blinks again. It’s like everything is just a little slower in Cecil’s world. Takes a little longer to filter through. It’s refreshing, in a way. He’s in no rush, and it encourages you to slow down too. To smell the roses.

Cecil is beyond easy-going, come to think of it. Goes with the flow like a dead fish. You’re pretty sure, in fact, that he’d go along with just about anything. With just about anybody’s hare-brained schemes, without once thinking through a single one of the potential consequences.

Scratch that - he probably already has done just that; which would explain a lot of the trouble he’s routinely gotten himself into since you’ve known him.

Though, you suppose, in a way that’s refreshing too. You always did worry too much.

Besides, he always seems to muddle through, somehow. Though quite how has you stumped. It’s hardly due to his charm or his smarts, now, is it? Even so, despite whatever attributes he is lacking in, you can’t deny that he must be doing something right. Trouble simply seems to slide right off the man’s back. Like water off a… well. A dead fish, you guess. What a versatile metaphor.

He blinks at you again. Maybe those big pretty cow eyes help, just a teency bit, to get him out of trouble, you would wager.

Look at him though. You’ve never seen anyone more relaxed. Practically horizontal as he’s hunkered down in the booth, seated next to you in the corner of your usual dive bar. Maybe there’s something to be said for all the pot and seedy hotel room fucks he indulges in. You bet his shoulders are inordinately loose. Maybe he really does have it all figured out, despite appearances.

As you ponder this, Cecil -eventually- makes a non-committal noise, before his bloodshot, glassy eyes flick back to the TV hung up on the wall. He is barely even watching it. Just letting it happen to him, like he does with most everything else.

That’s probably why you’ve never fucked him, you realise, like a bolt out of the blue. He’s pretty, sure. But you wouldn’t.

You don’t mind control - that’s not it. You don’t mind taking charge. But with Cecil? You think he’d take it lying down - a little too literally. If you’d ever suggested you and he fool around, you’d never know for sure. Never know if it really was his idea - a thought or desire he’d ever had before - or if he was simply far too agreeable and opportunistic to decline. So agreeable, that he’d let you ease your vagina up and down on his cock until you came on him. You were intrigued by the thought, sure. But you refused to go there simply because Cecil couldn’t come up with anything better to do.

You look at him, and immediately bat that thought - the vagina all over cock one - away though, as you regard his complete lack of gumption. It’s tangible. Look at him now, for example. He’d seemed to like the way the air from his non-committal noise had filtered over the neck of his bottle, tucked under his folded chin. Indeed, he is now pursing his full, curvy lips, and blowing over the mouth of it until a soft series of “hoots” fill your booth.

You fold your arms and sigh.

You reckon that will amuse him for the next ten minutes at least, so clearly, once again, Cecil’s not the one coming up with a plan for the remainder of this evening.

It’s not that you ever really have to do anything with Cecil to have a good time. It’s just that, tonight, you’re antsy, and it’s making your thoughts wander in directions. Down below his zipper directions, so help you.

“Beer’s empty,” Cecil states flatly, finally noticing after sucking on the bottle for a mo, poking his wet pink tongue around the rim like the little wet cat boy he is. Cute though. Does things to you.

Anyway. You register his statement, but you observe that no action follows. He doesn’t look at all like he plans to do a damn thing about it.

You decide to test your theory, then. Your theory that Cecil’s simply a dead fish swept along in your river. That maybe he doesn’t even want to be here at all. Never did. That you are just another something that happened to happen to him.

“Do you wanna go get Mexican?” you offer, with ulterior motives Cecil is not shrewd enough to pick up on.

His eyes tick back from the captivating, shifting lights of the TV. “Sure,” he smiles softly at you, perfectly content, it seems - and yet, you are less than satisfied.

“See!” You smack the palms of your hands together in triumph, and he jumps. Pushes himself up a little straighter in the seat, his palms disappearing into the worn, lumpy upholstery. “See what I mean?”

He blinks at you blankly. Again.

Clearly not, then?

“You just go along with anything I say. We ate two hours ago, Cecil,” you complain, recalling the all you can eat Chinese buffet you and he had gorged on with two coupons you’d cut out of the newspaper. You drop your hands to your lap, dejectedly. You’re getting agitated with him, which surprises you, in truth. And still… there Cecil is. Unflappable. Calm. Constant. There are pros to his cons, for sure. “I just… I never know if you actually like what we’re doing, you know?”

“But. You always suggest things I like. So why would I say no?” He shrugs a little. “Tacos are good. I like tacos. I like…” he hoots into his bottle again as he says the word. “You-ooooooh.”

You hate to admit it, but his answer has you stumped for a moment. Cecil’s statements may generally be simple. Uncomplicated. But they can be oddly profound at times.

Christ. Maybe… Does the man actually have a valid point? Or, perhaps you’re looking too hard for meaning in his words - it’s possible. You feel like you’ve spent a lot of time lately looking hard at Cecil, perhaps to justify your bizarre and inexplicable feelings.

Possibly you’re even projecting. His seeming lack of independent willpower would certainly make that easy enough to do.

Maybe the man has a point though. Maybe he’s not as “easy-going” as you think he is. Maybe you’re just coincidentally so attuned to his desires that he’s never had cause to deny you. Maybe you are aligned with his desires. One and the same. “What if I asked you to do something you didn’t like, then?”

You slurp up the dregs of melted ice through your straw and Cecil blinks again as though it’s taking all of his processing power. Damn, though. You’re surprised that the fanning of those endlessly long cow lashes didn’t cause the curtains behind you to billow in the breeze they threw up. “Like what?”

You shake your head. Touch his arm to placate him. “Never mind, Cecil.” Christ. If he can’t even think of a single Thing He Wouldn’t Like, maybe you can safely stick to your dead fish hypothesis. It’s all the same to him. Just happening to him. He’s not choosing you.

That particular thought, when it arrives, niggles you more than expected, but you quash the growing agitation which rides in alongside it.

Meanwhile, Cecil looks around, quite visibly thinking. “I wouldn’t get up outta this seat,” he states adamantly, his voice croaked from all the blunts he’s worked through today. “I wouldn’t like that.”

You believe him. He’s practically sliding down to become a puddle on the floor. Dissolving into the bar furniture; becoming one with the upholstery.

Your lips curl up into a tender smile, remembering one particularly ridiculous night at Cecil’s. The night involving a 3am bong sesh, culminating in him genuinely believing he had merged with the couch, becoming a half-human half-upholstery monstrosity. He had waved the two huge, puffy couch cushions around as though they were his arms, and he’d grabbed you up in the middle of them like a grilled cheese, sandwiching you and taking you down to the floor where the two of you had rolled and laughed until you’d cried.

When the laughter had subsided to only the odd titter here and there, and you had lain on his disgusting rug almost nose to nose? That’s the first time you’d wanted to kiss him, and it turned out not to have been the last.

Fuck. You are rather fond of this idiot, aren’t you? How the fuck did that happen?

Engaged fully now though - slightly more lucid than your fond memory- Cecil sits up. Still slouched but this time over the table, his forearms bracing him against the surface. As he moves, you get a waft of his layered, stale cigarette smell. It’s… confusing, in its appeal. Should be off-putting, but you find, in fact, that it’s a comfort.

“No? You don’t wanna?”

With a rush of affection you link your arm through Cecil’s, and he slumps his head on to your shoulder as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You weren’t ready for the way his knotted curls brush your cheek, and it inspires a similarly dense and tangled knot to form in your middle.

“No.” It’s the most sure you’ve ever heard him sound. “I don’t wanna get up.”

“A minute ago we were going for Mexican food, Cecil.” There’s a beat. “That kinda involves movement, you realise?

He swivels his head towards you then, gaze all doe-eyed and pathetic, and the proximity of him parroting on your shoulder knocks you for six. “You mad at me or something, Hottie from Walmart?”

You snort. He doesn’t always pull out that nickname for you - how you’d been known to him before you had been known to him - but it always makes you sentimental when he does.

He shifts from you then, tilting his body towards you. Scrutinising you with apprehension in his sweet face.

Fuck him actually, and fuck his pouty beautiful kissable lips most of all.

You sigh, and you deliberately soften your face. He’s easy-going, sure, but he’s sensitive. Trouble slides off of his back, but other things… other things don’t slip off quite so well, and he often gets like this. Like he’s done something wrong, when he hasn’t.

You actively resist the urge to coddle him. To tenderly rake his somewhat grimy but beautiful curls off of his forehead.

You hardly want to examine the fact he brings out your… motherly instincts; but it doesn’t escape your attention that he always seems like he’s craving just a little nurturing. You want to take your thumb and smooth out the creases in his troubled brow.

“No, Cecil. I’m not mad at you. I’d tell you if I was and we’d talk about it.”

He nods.

You’re not mad at him. Really. And so, you take pause to wonder why this happy-go-lucky trait of his is particularly irking you today. “It’s mostly a good thing, I promise.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”

He looks pleased for a minute and then: “Wait. What’s a good thing?”

You want to kiss his stupid mouth until he can’t think. Which you don’t think would take long at all, actually.

“That…” You think about how to phrase it, and it quickly occurs to you. “That. You’re my ‘yes man’.” He is expressionless for a moment, and you wait for comprehension to slowly crawl over him. “I mean, Cecil,” you take his clammy hand in yours. “That it’s always fun with you. I mean that you never shoot down my ideas. Even when you probably should.”

His face splits with a brief - goofy, but wholly endearing - smile. “You have fun with me?”

His big cow eyes go all soft and wet.

Oh boy. This idiot. If you didn’t have fun with him, even just sitting on his grotty couch, what other reason could you possibly have to hang out with him, huh?

You open your mouth to say as much before thinking better of it, but for once Cecil beats you to it.

“I have fun with you too, Hottie.”

It’s another one of those moments of levity that you’ve experienced surprisingly often with Cecil. One of those moments where everything feels a just little more profound. A little more magical. Sometimes, Cecil gets you in the gut just a little harder than expected.

Great. And now you’re thinking of Cecil all up in your guts.

“I should think so - I’m awesome. But, right now? All I’m saying is…” You tap your noggin. “Tank empty. No ideas. It’s your turn to decide what we do tonight? Okay?”

You search his eyes. His big, beautiful, sincere and secretless eyes. You silently ask the true question you want to ask him. I want to know what you want.

You’re not yet ready to admit the questions buried right beneath that one: do you want me back? Could you? Would you, Cecil?

“Yeah?” Cecil responds, unsure, and you immediately worry that you have, in fact, given him too much responsibility. His expression compresses in a frown of deep, deep concentration. Like he’s really wrestling with this.

You watch with bated breath, dying to see what he comes up with - if anything at all.

And then - aha - he finally has it.

“I could jerk off.”

“Wha-?” You playfully bat him in the arm, aghast. “Cecil!!”

“What?” A surprised, contrite laugh bobs in his throat.

“I mean.” You swallow. “How is that an idea for both of us?”

Oh that’s your problem with his idea?

That it’s not participatory enough?

“You could help.”

Your jaw drops open. “Cecil! I’m not gonna-” you switch to a loud whisper “-jerk you off!”

He blinks again, his eyes glinting with a gentle - ever so gentle - flicker of amusement. “You’re not a yes man,” he complains softly, his curly lips sneaking up into a curly smile. “Always shooting down my ideas.”

He bats his lashes at you and oh boy - even Cecil must be starting to figure out that you’re a sucker for those big, pretty brown eyes. Your one true weakness.

“That’s really what you want?” you ask, trying to keep things light. To keep your tone jokey and jovial, like always, despite the rising tremor in your voice. “It would involve getting up, you realise?”

He winks at you - a gesture which seems entirely unlike him and yet somehow works - and smirks down at his crotch. “Already am.”

“If you’re really so uncontrollably horny, why don’t you get someone else around here to help you, huh?” Your heart skips a beat. “Why me?”

He’s looking at you like he wants you but… he’s an opportunistic guy. Goes with the flow. That’s how things come to him; he’ll take his cigarettes and beers and fucks wherever and whenever he can get them.

He unceremoniously pulls out a rolled blunt and lights it up, the filter end pressed between his plush pink lips.

“No.” It bobs as he talks and he takes little, peppered drags to get the burn going.

“No?”

You blink at him dumbly now.

“No. I only want you.”

Correction. That’s the most sure of anything you’ve ever heard him.

He slips forward, exhaling his smoke into your mouth as his lips caress yours. “Come on,” he encourages. “Get going. Before my penis turns into a couch cushion.”

He kisses your laugh, and as his tongue slides hungrily against yours suddenly it isn’t quite so funny. Suddenly, you feel like maybe Cecil has the best ideas.

“Right here?” You reach down, and you smooth your palm over the clothed bulge at his crotch. “In the booth?”

“I’m already barred. Heh. What are they gonna do?”

You smile at him, licking your lips as Cecil bucks up into your hand, his head lolling back against the lip of his seat, and his pretty eyes fluttering closed.

He groans, as your fingers snake to tease open the button at his fly.

“Oops,” Cecil whispers contritely, almost immediately, his cheeks and his ears darkening with a deep crimson flush as he looks over to you. “I just… I…”

Oh God. He just came in his pants, didn’t he? Oh Lord that makes you inexplicably hot.

His big, pretty eyes are wet with apology. “Are you mad?”

“No, Cecil.” Poor baby. “I just think I should take you home and get you cleaned up, hmm?” You next words all run into one, as you struggle to get your new genius plan out of your mouth. “Mayberimyoualittlewhatdoyousay?”

Did you actually just suggest that you take him home to rim him? Good Lord.

He blinks rapidly, the colour in his cheeks flowering more, like a beautiful rose unfurling. “Y-Yes. I say yes.”

It’s a hare-brained plan, for sure, but you decide that for once,

you might as well just…

go with the flow.

It certainly works for Cecil.

[cringe6fail6star6]

Powerless!Mark variant x childhood friend!hero! Reader? Angst?

Imagine you meet a kid during one of your visits into pentagon medical bay because your dad is injured as per usual. And said kid stares blankly at you before showing you some mobile game on their phone. It stops you from being too worried about your dad and crying and you find out this kid is actually pretty cool in a standoffish way.

Later you meet the same kid but now as your new neigbhor. You two go to the same school and then high school. You find out your friends's powers: prophesicing. Obviously you check before trusting them, but getting lucky at tests and escaping getting caught after stealing from the mall convinces you they arent lying. And had this power since forever. Later on said friend, well, becomes a hero. So now you have to hang out alone. Again. Because theyre too busy for everyday hangouts at your or their house.

They still try to be your bestfriend and go to school with you. But now they get pulled towards crime fighting and training in the city with Teen Team instead of playing video games with you, you feel left out. And most of your hang outs have to be cut short because they get called in on some weird villain-hero fighting. Stopping bank robberies and everything else. Just like your dad.

You, of course, dont give up the friendship.

Because you two are still friends, still hang out a lot AND theyre willing to give up hero duties when its something really important to you. Like new comic issue comes out on a comic con and your hero friend is here -in their half assed version of the suit they wear during duty- matching yours -not half assed one.

It gets ruined by a stray villain trying to blow up the place but its okay, they apologize and get signed copy of the issue afterwards(bc they saved authors life during the whole situation). Just for you. Its cool having hero friend.

But than some hang outs get cancelled all together and when you call, you hear other people talking, like Kate or Rex talking over your friend while celebratong another win of the hero side or something. Or they bring weapons to a normal hang out so now your mom is scolding both of you for endangering yourselves. Or comes really late for a hangout and cant even tell why theyre late.

Your dad is... growing impatient by the day when youe powers dont manifest. He grows distant for a while. Your mom assures you hes just worried for you, so you dont blame yourself too much.(but you do)

Then you see him and your friend saving the city together because Teen Team was near, where your dad calls them "Great Protege". Your dad took them as a student instead of you.

Of course. Of course. You dont have powers but that stings just a little. Just a little too much.

Your friend visits your home more often again, like when you were kids, but not for you. They walk in anf apologize for being late to dinner, you mom doesnt blink an eye when a new plate is set on the table. Or during your rare time together they get pulled aside for training session. Or they cant come because theyre training. Or Cecil got on their case about something. And its excuse after another and now it feels that even when you two see each other and almost live under the same roof - you havent spoken in days.

Some horrible situation starts and you and mom get pulled into Pentagon for safety concerns and you get opportunity to hear the mission intercoms. Your dad talks about you and your best friend dating and they deny that - which also stings because, ouch, you were going to confess soon but if its a no its okay you can take rejection.

Then your friend comes to your room unnanounced, blabbering about your dad hunting them, and about some prophesy about you getting your powers. Your friend is grabbing on your arms and legs, hoping to get some magical powers to sprung up out of nowhere -when they see you dont have them- they look genuinely horrified. Like, duh you dont have powers; thats why dad replaced you with with! But you cant say that as you see your friend panicking even more and talking about end of the world.

Your friend has their moments. Sometimes prophecies arent good, fuck it, most of them are horrendous. But youd expect to be used to it by now, but seems that this one is far worse than usual. Something about white skin-tight uniform and crowns, something about thousand punches and bright blood on the hands of your dad. But it cant be that, viltrumites are peaceful and wont do that!

Then your dad comes back home, your friend covering you behind them. Your dad talks something about you being a dissapointment and how he expected better from this planets people - but seems its only good as slaves for the empire. Which angers your friend who shoves you through a portal into Pentagon.

You watch your friend and your dad fight (more like cecils team teleporting them away from his attacks and sending other heroes to stop him and/or weapons that cost as much as certain countries). Until you cant wait for this anymore and you throw yourself into a teleport. You spawn some distance away from the heat of the fight, luckily on the ground, and sprint that direction.

Its only way you know you can do something heroic and you dont waste a second longer...

You cant let your friend die! You sacrifice yourself, last thing you see is them panicking and your dad shocked expression.

Mark doesnt have to imagine.

[weebsinstash]

*sigh* I drink my "horny for evil bastards" juice every morning and I've been thinking about yandere Nolan Grayson x a Reader who doesn't know they've got Viltrumite heritage and recently got their powers but is in total denial of everything

--the two of you meet by total chance. He's out patrolling or having a fly in-costume as Omni-Man when you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when there's some sort of catastrophic emergency, like some giant monster attack or a supervillain. You're about to be hit by a car or attacked by a weapon or have a falling piece of debris totally crush you when... you're totally fine! Whatever weapon or rock or car rammed into you bends like tin foil or crumbles or- you get the point.

--he's honestly a little surprised to see it, and strangely enough, so are you! You look super freaked out and run off before the superhero can get to you, having to take care of the disaster first before he'd be able to talk to you, and by that point, you're gone

--it could just be you have some sort of power, but Nolan can't help but wonder... have any other Viltrumites come to Earth before? If so, are they still here? How many? Were you a child of one of his kind? It's all speculative, but... he's curious, and for some reason, it's more about you personally more than the possibility of your family tree.

--your family member from Viltrum is either one of your parents or grandparents, which is a recent enough lineage that you're in the same "almost pure-blooded" category as Nolan's own half-human son, which is both good and bad news for you. Good news is, you've reached some sort of alien puberty and now have powers! The bad news is you think they're just your own superpowers and not indicative of any inhuman heritage, since you're completely unaware of your family member's history. Also, now you have a... not so emotionally-stable super-powered alien who is keen on becoming your new mentor, which is, definitely, the worst part

--hell, maybe your alien kin is dead or even back on Viltrum, leaving you all the more ignorant of, what Nolan sees as, a greater purpose for you, a greatly missed opportunity of untapped potential, and a missed connection to your culture. He immediately feels the urge to tutor you as a young Viltrumite, perhaps even be some sort of companion, but when he finally finds you and tells you about your family, about Viltrum, you just... don't believe him. You don't doubt the planet's existence, just that your family has no connection! No one else in your family has powers, your family isn't some--some---

-- you're just kind of in shock and basically tell the superhero to leave you alone, to go away and not come back, but Nolan doesn't want to take no for an answer, not until he gets a summons from Cecil to handle another crisis, anyways. The Viltrumite sternly tells you, no, promises that "the two of us are going to sit down and have a talk about this later" before reluctantly flying off

--he's determined to show you how your life as a human was all fake bullshit that never mattered, and now that you're a Viltrumite, there's so much more for you out there! Other planets, worlds never before seen, and you can meet other people of your race, learn more about your interstellar cultural heritage! But you reject it because... he's basically telling you everything you've ever known and loved is pointless and that he knows what's best for you, he can show you how to really live your life. It kind of feels like some creepy mix between overbearing father and abusive boyfriend

--so, if you're going to be so stubborn and deny your heritage, Nolan will prove to you you're a Viltrumite, and he will get you to abandon this wasteful human existence you're wasting all this time and energy on

--you thought you were safe and alone when he suddenly corners you alone in your own home, dragging you kicking and screaming into the kitchen. He tells you to fight him if you don't want to get hurt, but you're nonviolent by nature, and you can't just beat on one of the worlds most famous protectors!

But he doesn't give you that choice. He's dragging you into the kitchen, over to the sink, turning on your garbage disposal, forcing your hand closer and closer and closer as you SCREAM

and your garbage disposal bends and busts like its made of plastic. You pull out your hand completely unharmed as you cry and sob because what the fuck, what the fuck did you just do, why the hell did you do that, why--

--You're unharmed... physically. Mentally and emotionally, not so much. But don't worry! Nolan is completely dedicated to providing you comfort, giving you one of his fatherly hugs as he tells you about all the nice things he's going to show you over the next few hundred years that will make you forget all about this stupid planet and everything on it. You've got him now, and he can be everything you need

[emma23]

Waiting for something special:

————————————————————————

The small coffee shop you found yourself in wasn’t anything special—just one of those dingy little places tucked away in the corner of the street where no one ever really went. You had been coming here for weeks now, sitting in the same booth by the window, watching life move on without you.

And then there was Cecil Denis.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened, but somehow, the eccentric man with the too-bright shirts and the cigarette always dangling from his lips had wormed his way into your daily routine. You’d met him by chance, or maybe he’d orchestrated it—it was hard to tell with him. Everything Cecil did seemed intentional, like he knew how every little interaction would play out before it even happened.

Today, you found yourself sitting across from him again, sipping on your drink while he droned on about something you couldn’t quite follow. His hands were animated, his voice lively, but your mind was somewhere else.

“Y/N? You listening to me, doll?” Cecil’s smooth voice cut through your haze, drawing you back to the present. He tilted his head, eyeing you with that same smug, knowing expression he always had.

“Sorry, what?” you blinked, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Cecil leaned back in his chair, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a tray. “I was saying, you seem distracted. Something on your mind?”

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share what had been bothering you for weeks. Cecil was sharp, too sharp, and he had this way of making you feel like you were being put under a microscope.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, staring down at your cup.

Cecil hummed, clearly not buying your deflection. “Nothing, huh? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like something.”

You sighed, fidgeting with your spoon. “It’s stupid.”

“Oh, those are my favorite kinds of things to talk about,” Cecil grinned, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. “Come on, doll, spill.”

You bit your lip, still debating whether or not to say it. But Cecil wasn’t the kind of guy you could keep things from for long. Besides, what was the harm in telling him? He probably wouldn’t care, right?

Taking a deep breath, you finally confessed. “I’ve never been kissed.”

Cecil raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”

You nodded, your face heating up even more. “It’s pathetic, I know. I’m in my twenties and I’ve never even kissed anyone. Like, who does that?”

Cecil’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes softened slightly. “No, it’s really not pathetic,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle for once.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I guess I was just waiting for someone special to come along.”

Cecil’s gaze sharpened, and you could feel the shift in the air between you. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Has someone?”

Your breath hitched, and you found yourself unable to meet his eyes. “Maybe,” you muttered, barely above a whisper.

Cecil chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Think you, huh?” His fingers drummed lazily on the table. “So, what do you want me to do about it, doll?”

You glanced up at him, feeling your heart race in your chest. “Will you?”

Cecil tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “If I kiss you here, right now, you won’t be kissing any other men, Y/N. It'll only ever be me.”

Your pulse quickened, your mind racing as you processed his words. He wasn’t joking—there was an intensity in his gaze that made it clear he meant every word. This wasn’t just some casual kiss for him; this was a claim.

But wasn’t that what you wanted? Someone special? Someone who made you feel like you were the only one who mattered?

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Okay.”

Cecil’s smirk widened, and he stood up, moving around the table to slide in next to you. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of cigarette smoke, creating a dizzying combination that made your head spin.

His hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up towards him. For a moment, he just stared at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he was making sure you were ready for this. Then, without another word, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

The world around you seemed to fade away as Cecil’s lips moved against yours. It wasn’t rough or hurried—no, it was careful, almost reverent, like he was savoring every second. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, spreading through your entire body. This was it—the kiss you’d been waiting for, the one that was supposed to change everything. And it was perfect.

When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, your heart pounding in your ears. Cecil didn’t say anything for a moment, just studying your face with a satisfied grin.

“Well, how was that for your first kiss, doll?”

You laughed, still trying to catch your breath. “Not bad.”

Cecil raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Not bad? Come on, I think I deserve a little more credit than that.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. “Fine. It was great. Happy?”

He chuckled, leaning back against the booth. “I’ll take it.” He was silent for a moment before adding, “Told you, though. No more kissing other men.”

You smirked, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I think I can live with that.

[btswrckd]

War of Hearts II

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions o weapons, mentions of blood, slight angst, next chapter will be smut

------------------------------------------------------

Taehyung isn’t sure how you can sleep through the night after the little stunt you’d pulled, but he finds himself tossing and turning through most of it. When he does finally manage to fall asleep at the fun hour of 3 o’clock in the damn morning, he’s woken an hour later by the dipping of the bed from your side. “Going somewhere, princess?”

“I have to pee,” you snap, “or will you be holding my hand to the bathroom as well?”

“Is that an invitation?” He grins, tucking one arm behind his head. Huh. Maybe you aren’t as well rested as he thinks. Maybe you’d spent the night just as frustrated. At least he isn’t alone in that.

“Shut up, Tae.” You stomp across the room and slam the bathroom door behind you. You can hear him laughing from the other side and silently contemplate shoving him off the bed when you return. You hadn’t slept, body anticipating his touch every time he moved but it never came and then you’d deflate in disappointment. You don’t know what time he plans on starting his day and hope it’s soon because you need space. You need room to think back on last night and figure out where the hell your sudden boldness came from. Where had you gotten the idea to touch him from? You were pretty bitter about the incident in the living room, sure, but to play a dangerous game like that? 6 months ago, you wouldn’t even dream of it. Now you’re panicking in the privacy of your personal bathroom because what, you actually want to sleep with your husband? You’re fairly sure you won’t be the first woman having sex with her own husband, but still, it was Taehyung. Tae. The chubby cheeked little kid who’d been your partner in crime at boring dinner parties that both yours and his parents attended. What kind of audacity did he have becoming so fucking attractive? Who allowed this?

“Are you going to actually use the restroom?” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he leans against the doorway. “Or can I brush my teeth?”

You didn’t hear him open the door. You hadn’t even locked it like you usually do. You’d forgotten and that irritates you. It means you’re letting your guard down when you can’t afford to. Not today of all days. You look at him, see the hunger swirling in his eyes, and your stomach drops because it’s been a very long time since any man has looked at you like that. “What time is it?”

“4:30,” he responds with a sigh, rolling his neck to release the tension that built overnight. “Why are you up so early, princess?”

“Why are you?” you fire back quickly and see him grin. He’s always known that you have a habit of deflecting when you can’t answer a question or explain yourself. His eyes drift down to the purple bruises around your neck, a lasting result from his mouth yesterday, and he smirks. You step back when he pushes off the door jamb and stalks forward, lightly gripping your chin.

“I wasn’t able to sleep,” he answers your question, “because my wife likes to play games and leave me with the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had.” He watches your breath hitch and his smirk grows wider. “Then she runs into the bathroom and forgets to lock the door after winning said game from last night. As if I won’t come in, bend her over the sink, and play my own little game.”

“Just brush your teeth, Taehyung!” you squeak, shoving at his chest and rushing out of the bathroom before your mouth has a chance to ignore your brain, and most likely ask what kind of game he’s talking about. You throw yourself on the bed and burrow beneath the blankets in hopes of disappearing.

Taehyung doesn’t actually brush his teeth. He didn’t really need to. It was the only excuse he had for checking up on you after 30 minutes of silence. He does, however, splash cold water on his face to cool the heat spreading through his body. Last night is still very fresh in his mind and just being near you sets him off. He makes his way back to bed, falling onto the mattress and praying he’ll get a few more hours of sleep.

You peek out from underneath the blankets when he sighs, burying his face into a pillow. His nose scrunches up in discomfort. You know that it’s because he can’t fall asleep, can’t stop thinking about last night, despite having to be up soon to do...whatever the hell he does. Truthfully, you won’t be falling asleep either, even though you really need to if you’re going to pull off what you have planned for the day. Scooting closer, you see his eyes drift open in silent question, but you dip beneath the weight of his arm and tuck your head to his chest. His breathing stops for a moment before his hold tightens and he shifts onto his side, nuzzling his face into your hair. It’s this way, snuggled up to Taehyung, that you finally fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

The shrill ringing of the alarm clock has you jumping in Taehyung’s embrace. You swear you had just shut your eyes before the screeching woke you, but looking at the time, you see that it had actually been 4 hours later. Taehyung blindly reaches for the clock, pressing random buttons until it finally quiets down and wrapping his arm around your waist once more. The shuffling of feet outside the bedroom door alerts him to Jungkook’s presence and the hushed tones of someone asking how he’s still alive alerts him to Jimin’s company as well. Right. He’d forgotten that they’d be taking you on another book haul after he’d ruined the one from yesterday.

At first, he had shut down the idea entirely when Seokjin texted him after his shower. Seokjin insisted that you be out of the house by the afternoon and Taehyung insisted on tearing his head off if he kept on with that nonsense. But Seokjin had just gotten a call from Namjoon and Hoseok that they were on their way back, and that they’d contacted Cecil for a meeting. To which Taehyung responded by reiterating that you needed to stay in the house until it was dealt with. He doesn’t remember how Seokjin had convinced him to let you go, but he had, and now he’s supposed to wake you up to get ready when he doesn’t want to.

“Princess,” his voice is groggy and barely audible, but you stir nonetheless. “Jungkookie and Jimin are going to take you somewhere today.”

“Where?” you mumble into his chest, brushing the tip of your nose beneath his chin.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.” You shift against him, tossing one leg over his hip.

“This one you will.” He smiles against your hair and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s not like you to deny going out.”

“When I have more energy to burn, I like going out.” You don’t know why, but you’re working your mouth against the skin of his neck, teeth playfully nipping at him. “Not when I’m running on 4 hours of sleep.”

“Even if it means getting to pick out a new book?” He teases, and you’re up in a flash, stumbling to the bathroom to get ready. Your love for books and knowledge rivals Namjoon’s and between the two of you, Taehyung isn’t sure how there’s not a daily debate on whatever topic either of you bring up. Yesterday, when you’d rifled through half the shelves at the store, you resembled a kid in a candy store.

“Boss.” Jimin knocks on the door as Taehyung gets out of bed to answer it. He grins at Taehyung when he sees the look on his face. “Morning, boss. How’d you sleep?”

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Taehyung snaps at him in return, yet Jimin merely laughs. “I don’t care if she brings home the whole fucking store, as long as she makes it home, am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin nods, side eyeing one upset looking Jeon Jungkook and gesturing to him. “If it makes you feel any better, Taehyung, you’re not the only one who thinks she should stay in.”

“Are you saying she should be out and about with everything that’s going on?”

“I’m saying that despite whatever progress you’ve made as a couple,” Jimin clarifies, “if she continues to feel suffocated, she’ll lose her mind. You’ve seen it happen.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to argue with him when you duck beneath his arm, fresh faced and dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a jacket hanging over your arm, and the backpack you’re sure to fill with books. You step up next to Jungkook, nudging his side with your elbow and not so subtly tilting your head Taehyung’s way.

Jungkook looks like he’d rather vomit than say whatever is lingering on his tongue, but you pin him with a look that says he’d better spit it out. “Yesterday,” he clears his throat and looks to his feet as he addresses Taehyung, “I was out of line, boss.”

Jimin reels back in shock, Taehyung following his lead. Jungkook is still young and while he makes for a great marksman and an even better fighter, his mindset can be hard to crack through. Though he’d never been defiant against Taehyung, he could still be stubborn in his ways and would sooner chew off his own arm than admit he was wrong. So, this is what you were up to last night. Taehyung had known you’d been texting Jungkook, he just didn’t know what about and had honestly forgotten all about it until now.

You give Jungkook another hard nudge and when he shakes his head, you stomp on the top of his foot. Both Jimin and Taehyung raise their brows at the way you dig your heel in until Jungkook finally caves and lifts his foot to get you off.

“Arlight!” Jungkook hisses in pain and resists the urge to kick off his shoe to see if you’d broken any bones. “I shouldn’t have overstepped and it won’t happen again.”

“Let’s go,” you announce with satisfaction and shoulder past Jungkook, who limps after your retreating figure.

Jimin waits until you’re both out of sight to throw his head back and roar with laughter, nearly toppling over as he wheezes. “Sh-She really made him apologize. She got the most stubborn person on the planet to say he’s sorry. Oh, my God, I really think she’s my new favorite person.”

“She most likely did it for his benefit more than mine.” Taehyung is still unable to fully process what just happened. “Losing Jungkookie as her bodyguard would devastate her.”

“Even so,” Jimin gasps as he tries to catch his breath, “she still got him to admit he was wrong. That was gold. I should have recorded it.”

“Yoongi probably already did.”

-------------------------------------------------

Namjoon and Hoseok arrive back at the house not long after you leave, refusing to believe Yoongi’s tale of Jungkook’s apology.

“No way.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Jungkook would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit he was wrong.”

“Hobi’s right,” Namjoon agrees with a nod. He’s sitting in the chair next to Yoongi’s in the security room while Taehyung and Seokjin prepare for Cecil’s visit. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I got it on camera.” Yoongi snickers, pulling up the feed from this morning and pressing play.

Namjoon and Hoseok simultaneously wince when you shove your foot into Jungkook’s and put a good amount of pressure on it for some time. They listen to Jungkook apologize without really using the words ‘I’m sorry’, but it seems to be good enough for you. It’s when he limps after you that Namjoon and Hoseok share an amused look before bursting into laughter.

“Jimin is so lucky he was there.” Hoseok wipes at an invisible tear as Seokjin steps into the room with a questioning look.

“Do you 3 mind getting your asses in gear and getting the hell out here?” Seokjin scolds them. “Cecil just pulled through the gate.”

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi right themselves before following Seokjin to the living room where Taehyung is already waiting. They move to stand behind him just as Cecil strolls in through the foyer. All but Taehyung sneer at him and the two men at his side.

Cecil is an old, sweaty, greasy excuse of a man that couldn’t be more than 5’5. He’s balding, though he attempts to cover it up with a toupee, his stomach hangs over the waistline of his pants, and he smiles with crooked and yellow teeth. Even his appearance could be looked past if he wasn’t such a piece of shit person. Before Mr. Kim had gotten involved, Cecil had dabbled in human trafficking, mostly targeting women and girls 13 and older. When Mr. Kim had begun building his empire, Cecil was desperate to work underneath him, but Mr. Kim had demolished the trafficking ring Cecil had run in response. Cecil had exploded and accused Mr. Kim of being a hypocrite when Mr. Kim himself had dealt in drugs and assassinations. Mr. Kim admitted to being an awful person, but neither he nor anyone wishing to work with him would ever deal in people. Needless to say, Cecil had never gained Mr. Kim’s trust and very few people chose to work with Cecil anymore. Everything about this poor excuse of a man is nauseating.

“Kim,” Cecil greets with a sneer of his own, “you’re very much like your father, aren’t you? Sticking your nose in my business where it doesn’t belong.”

“Your business with the Seong family is my business, Cecil.” Taehyung peers at the two men flanking either side of Cecil. “What do you want from them?”

“Who says I want anything?” Cecil taunts. “I saw a pretty face and wanted it for my collection. I wasn’t aware she was a Seong girl.”

“And my wife,” Taehyung informs through clenched teeth. “You were aware that this is my home, and that she lives here, so why the fuck are you really circling around here, you greasy son of a bitch?”

“I knew this was your home when my boys scoped it out.” Cecil nods, observing the living room carefully. “I just thought the Seong brothers put her under your protection. I had no idea she was your new whore.”

Fire flashes in Taehyung’s eyes, nostrils flaring, as he steps in Cecil’s direction. “My original plan was to find out what you wanted and be done with you. Now the only way you’ll be leaving here is in pieces.”

Namjoon and Hoseok advance on the two men Cecil has with them. The men fight, but they’re no match for Namjoon and Hoseok, going down quite easily. Seokjin and Yoongi draw their guns quickly, both cocking back the firing pin as Cecil panics.

“I’m not the one that’s after her!” Cecil admits, hands raised in surrender. “I don’t know who is!”

“Don’t fuck with me, Cecil.” Taehyung raises a hand to stop Seokjin and Yoongi from pulling the trigger.

“I’m not!” Cecil insists. “It’s like this, okay? I’m sitting in my office one day, giving over some books for a new product I want to move when I get a call from a number that’s untraceable. They tell me to look into the Seong family, that there’s only one living girl left, and they want to get their hands on her. They tell me I’m the only one who can get it done, and they wired $1 million into my account as payment, but by the time I got to the Seong brothers, the girl was gone. She’d been moved and I told them that the next time they called. They were the ones who told me where to find her, they were the ones who set up the plan to trick your cameras, I just had the perfect lackey, that’s all.”

“What else do they want from her?” Yoongi is the one to ask, hand shaking with rage at the thought of someone getting to you.

“They didn’t say. Just that they wanted her.”

“Boss.” Namjoon looks panicked, and Taehyung is about to ask why when the sound of the front door opening hits his ears.

“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, swiftly barreling into the foyer. He relaxes when he finds that his father is the one coming through the door. “Dad, you should have called.”

“I did.” Mr. Kim pats his son’s shoulder. “Y/N said she was out and that you’d be busy at home.”

“Why did you call Y/N?”

“Because she’s my daughter-in-law,” Mr. Kim states as if that should have been enough of an explanation, “whom I happen to adore very much, so if you’re done lecturing me, then shall we proceed?”

Taehyung guides his father back to Cecil and his unconscious men, nodding his head at Namjoon when he’s met with a questioning raise of Namjoon’s eyebrow.

“Mr. Kim.” Hoseok beams at Taehyung’s father as he looms over one of two beaten men.

“Always a pleasure, Hoseok.” Mr. Kim returns his smile fondly before turning his attention to Cecil. “I’m not at all surprised that you’re behind this, Cecil. I am, however, surprised that you were stupid enough to believe you could get away with it.”

“My men are expecting me back soon,” Cecil informs the room and is less than enthused to find that Mr. Kim’s smile has not faltered. “If I’m not back, they have orders to swarm this place and swoop down on your girl, Kim.”

“Of course.” Mr. Kim nods at his declaration in the same way a mother would do to a child that’s spouting a lie. “I believe you, Cecil, I truly do. Unfortunately for you, there are no men left to wait for you.”

“What have you done?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you and that I’ve killed men for far less than you’ve done. I plan on fixing that, starting with the complete eradication of your entire syndicate. Well, what’s left of it, anyways.”

“This is your son’s mess,” Cecil bellows, feeling his knees shake at the new information being given to him. If what Mr. Kim said rings true, then he won’t be able to rebuild. He’d already been hanging by a thread as is. “But here you are to clean it up for him while he runs around playing ‘boss’. Pathetic.”

“This isn’t a mess,” Mr. Kim corrects him with a dangerously straight face. “Nor is it something for my son to handle on his own when it affects the entire family. This is us coming to a solution for a problem that will soon cease to exist.”

Hoseok and Namjoon rush to Cecil with a wave of Mr. Kim’s hand, gripping him by the shoulders and dragging him back through the front door to Mr. Kim’s waiting car. They wrestle him into the back seat where two of Mr. Kim’s men sit patiently.

“You’re sure all of his men are dead?” Taehyung asks his father.

“Every single one,” he assures. “We’ll handle Cecil from here. It’ll get bloody and your mother’s used to seeing it on my hands. Y/N hasn’t had to clean you up after a job yet, I’d like to help you keep it that way.”

“Cleaning him up isn’t exactly what she’d do,” Hoseok jokes upon his return to the living room. “More like make him sleep on the couch.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes while his father and Hoseok share a laugh. He doesn’t argue against Hoseok’s joke because it’s true. Though it would be more from being pissed off that he’d get into a fight in the first place than it would out of concern for staining an expensive set of sheets. When his phone rings, he barely hears it over the ruckus that is his father and idiot friend, but he fishes it from his pocket when he finally does hear it. “Jungkook.”

“She’s gone,” Jungkook is panting from having run around the entire bookstore and then around the entire neighborhood.

“What the fuck do you mean gone?!” Taehyung’s voice booms so loud that Seokjin and Yoongi drop the two men they’d been working on disposing of. “Where?! How?!”

“She went to the restroom, but never came out.” Jungkook can feel his chest tightening with each passing minute. He needs to find you. Not just for the sake of his own life. For the desperate need to make sure you’re still alive yourself. “We took all the precautions. No one was in there when she went in. We kept watch, boss, I swear on my life. She just never came out.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told to hop onto his tablet and tap into your phone. His fingers are already racing across the screen when Taehyung turns to him. Mr. Kim is rushing out with his own phone to his ear, barking orders to search the entire city, shut it completely down if need be. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin feel helpless when all they can do is wait for Taehyung’s command. They could attempt to hack your phone, but that’s what Yoongi’s for, and if he can’t find you then they for damn sure won’t be able to.

Taehyung is running through every possibility in his head and finds nothing to clue him in as to where you could be. Yoongi’s frantic ‘I found her!’ has everyone gathering around him, Taehyung’s nostrils flaring at the location on the screen. He still has Jungkook on the phone, informing him that, “We know where she is, Jungkook, calm yourself now. Get Jimin and meet me back at the house as fast as you can. We’re going to pick her up.”

“You want us to ride with you?” Namjoon asks, the concern in his eyes quickly morphing into anger. If anything had happened to you…

“No,” Taehyung sighs as he hangs up the phone. “I want Yoongi and Hoseok to go talk to the Ahn brothers. They have eyes and ears everywhere. I’m sure they can give us some answers.”

“I’d rather go with you,” Hoseok chimes in. “Y/N has a tendency to listen more when I’m there.”

“Everyone has a tendency to listen more when you’re around, Hoseok,” Seokjin points out.

“Which is exactly why you’re going with Yoongi to the Ahn brothers.” Taehyung begins dialing his father’s number into his phone, hoping to stop him before his men turn over the entire city.

--------------------------------------------------

It’s the second month of your marriage when you finally get your phone and laptop back. You comb through both of them to make sure they still work the way they’re supposed to. Yoongi had promised that he didn’t delete or alter anything and you’d snorted in denial. Taehyung had taken them for a reason and if Yoongi was the one returning them, then they’d both definitely been tampered with. You were holed up in your room for hours, answering emails and text messages, scrolling through Instagram and Facebook to catch up on your friends’ lives, editing pictures that you’d promised Soyoung weeks ago, and called the HR department of your job to confirm if you even still had one. They had seemed confused by your questions and had let you ramble on like an idiot before informing you that the leave of absence paperwork you’d submitted had been approved, and they were looking forward to whenever you were ready to return. It was after the phone call that you realized Taehyung had been the one to submit LOA papers on your behalf. That sneaky little son of a---.

“Y/N?” The tapping of Jungkook’s fingers on your door startles you. “Dinner’s ready. You haven’t eaten all day. If anything’s gone wrong with your phone or laptop, Yoongi will fix it. So, please come out and eat something.”

Your heart melts at his tone, looking to the bedside alarm clock to find that it was nearing 9 o’clock in the evening. Resisting the urge to face palm, you scramble out of bed and race for the door, throwing it open. “I’m sorry, Jungkook, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Is everything okay?” He steps back to give you space to move, shutting the door behind you and following along to the dining room. “Is there a problem with your stuff?”

“No, no,” you sigh, shaking your head and running a hand through your already messy hair. “I just lost track of time catching up on some things. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Didn’t you get hungry at all?”

“Not when I get busy doing things,” you explain and laugh at the expression on his face, a memory coming to mind. “Namjoon gave me that same look the other day when I was reading a book I borrowed from him. I guess I hadn’t been out of my room all day and missed lunch and dinner, so he came looking for me. I told him that when I was a kid, my mom used to lose her head when she couldn’t find me. At the time, I didn’t fully understand how dangerous it was to wander off by myself. Anyways, her and my dad would tear the house apart looking for me. Turns out, I’d ended up being curled underneath my bed with a book in my hands. The second I learned how to read, I never stopped. It drove my parents nuts because I would become so engrossed in a book that I wouldn’t pay attention to the world around me. They complained that I needed real friends, not imaginary ones, and set up playdates with their friends’ kids. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I actually had made friends, through the equal admiration and love for a specific book.”

“You must miss them,” he notes and winces at the sheer stupidity of it. Of course you miss them. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say.”

“No,” you smile at him. “I miss them very much. I was 14 when they died, so they didn’t get to see me grow into adulthood. Some days it’s a little harder than others.”

“I’m sure they would have been very proud.”

“Not if they knew what a huge nerd I stayed,” you joke and earn yourself one of his rare bunny smiles, teeth, dimples, and all. “They never met any of the friends I still have now. Soyoung, Yunhee, and Bora are the same girls who’ve stuck by me for so long. Soyoung was actually the girl I met who loved the same book she’d caught me reading like a loner during recess one day.” You laugh fondly as you recall the start of your friendships. “Or attempting to read, I should say. A few annoying boys from our class had taken the book from my hands and played a little game of keep away. Soyoung saw them, came over, knocked the biggest one to the ground, and challenged the rest of them to a fight. They ran away and Soyoung spent the rest of the time sitting with me to make sure they didn’t come back.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve the retelling of a happy memory, but he doesn’t stop you from talking, even when he finally steps into the dining room where Taehyung is already waiting. When he sees Taehyung, he attempts to interrupt your story, though he doesn’t as Taehyung shakes his head with a slight smile on his lips.

“That was the first time I knew what protection was,” you continue while staring off into space, not yet noticing Taehyung standing from the table. “Sure, my parents had their own version of it, but having their security guards around wasn’t the same as having someone around that actually listened to you.”

“Princess.” Taehyung almost laughs at how high you jump in place. “Are you ready to eat something?”

With your trip down memory lane on hold, you walk past him to sit at the table. You think maybe you shared a little too much with Jungkook. For two solid months, you’d managed to hold off giving up your friends’ names, even when Taehyung had offered to have them brought over to stave off your boredom. Nothing had ever sounded so tempting and had you said yes, it would have undoubtedly been an amazing day. Still, you can’t risk their lives for your own selfishness. You look down to the plate filled with carbonara, your favorite, and bite back a smile because you know it was Taehyung’s idea to have it served. You’re not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile when he had held your phone and laptop hostage for two months.

Taehyung sits beside you as Jungkook stands just a few feet away and Jimin comes in to stand at the other exit. He sees your eyes squint with suspicion and almost tells you that he’s expecting a guest. Instead he taps gently on the table to get your attention. “Is there a specific reason you didn’t eat anything today? Or so much as leave your room?”

You give him a sideways glance, jamming the fork left for you in the pasta. “You had my phone and laptop for the last two months, Taehyung, things piled up.”

“And catching up was more important than eating or seeing the sun?”

“I wasn’t hungry and I prefer the moon to the sun anyways, so yes, catching up was more important.” Only half of that is true and just barely. It’s not that you weren’t hungry at all, it’s that you didn’t notice you were hungry until Jungkook had come to fetch you.

Taehyung rests his elbows on the table, rubbing at his temples and hearing Jimin snicker in the corner of the room. “Princess---.”

Suddenly you lean in close, propping your chin in the palm of your hand and hoping neither Jimin nor Jungkook can hear the next words about to come out of your mouth. Your gaze drops to Taehyung’s lips and then flickers back to the intensity of his eyes, the corners of your mouth tilting up. “Will you fuck me, Tae?”

Taahyung chokes on his own spit as you sit back, satisfied at having rattled him. He’s 100% sure you’re not serious and it’s payback for what he pulled the day he took your computer and phone. Lifting a hand to his mouth, he clears his throat and peers at Jungkook, then Jimin, who hadn’t heard what you said but laughed at Taehyung’s expense all the same. When his eyes land back on you, they’re met with a cat-like grin on your lips, your teeth biting down on the steel fork as you shove pasta into your mouth.

“Cute,” he comments dryly. He’s not completely unamused but he won’t be cracking a smile soon either. You had called him ‘Tae’, a nickname reserved solely for you to use when you’d gifted it to him as children. As a kid, it melted his heart when you would call out his nickname and he would do anything you asked. Now, it brings on an entirely different reaction and he’s adjusting the way he sits, and he knows you know why he’s squirming in his seat.

“Something wrong, Taehyung?” You pretend to be worried, hearing Jimin take a step in the direction of the table in case something was wrong with Taehyung. “You look uncomfortable.”

“I know you’re fucking with me,” he rasps through grit teeth and Jimin freezes in place. “But on the off chance that you’re not, the answer is ‘yes’, princess, I will fuck you tonight. I’m so glad you asked.”

Jungkook lets out an awkward cough as a deep blush creeps up your neck. He looks over at Jimin, the older man nearly doubled over in glee with a hand covering his mouth. He thinks he should step in and give you an excuse to flee, but truthfully, you really should have known better.

“You get on my fucking nerves, Kim Taehyung,” you hiss and hear Jungkook hiccup at the bold way you speak to Taehyung. With a quick glance, you can see his eyes go wide and jaw drop before he looks at Taehyung in a panic.

“Relax, Jungkookie,” Taehyung chuckles darkly, completely abandoning his food in favor of reaching out to grip the back of your neck to pull you close. “I’ve killed for less, you know.”

“Then by all means,” you challenge, have no qualms about matching his glare, “kill me, Taehyung.”

“How charming,” someone quips from the dining room entrance and you snap your head up to look for the unfamiliar voice.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung leans back in his chair and lets you stew in panic for a minute. “You finished your assignment early. You’re not due back for another few weeks.”

“I got impatient.” Hoseok shrugs in response, eyes darting to you. “Ah, so you’re Y/N. I have to say, you’re much prettier than Taehyung gives you credit for.”

“Is that so?” You manage to relax at the familiarity between your husband and this new stranger.

“He really doesn’t do you justice,” Hoseok teases, watching Taehyung tense. “Relax, boss, I’m not going to steal your wife. Though if she happens to fall for my charm then it’s really not my fault.”

Taehyung hears you bite down on a laugh and rolls his tongue against his cheek in irritation. With your attention still on Hoseok, he takes the opportunity to invade your space by leaning in close.“Finish your food, princess, and then go to bed.”

“I’m not a kid, you know.” You turn to him, breath hitching at his proximity. Moments ago, you’d been too pissed to care how close he was, not to mention how mad he was himself. But his face had softened in the last few minutes, now looking at you as he always did.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Taehyung offers, hand coming up to twist your hair in his fingers. “You finish your dinner and I’ll give you anything you want. Sound fair?”

“I want to go back to work.”

Taehyung sighs and leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anything but that, Y/N.”

“That counts as anything, Taehyung,” you argue through clenched teeth. “You don’t get to change the rules because you don’t like what I’ve asked for.”

“It’s not safe for you to go back to work right now.”

“Then I’ll take Jungkook with me.” You’re not opposed to begging, not if it gets you back to work. “My cousins used to have men watch over me at my job all the time. As paranoid as Joongki is, he still let me go to work, that’s a testament to how uneventful that place is.”

“The answer is ‘no’.” Taehyung’s voice is firm as he sets his jaw. There are many things he’d be willing to bend on. You leaving the house is not one of them. “Don’t pout at me like a child or like I’ve kicked your puppy. You asked, I answered, and now you deal with that, am I clear?”

“Are you, really?” You push away from the table with so much force that the chair nearly falls backwards in the process. “Or are you going to change your mind when it suits you?”

Jungkook moves behind you quickly should Taehyung decide he’s had enough of your attitude and goes back on his promise to never harm you. He isn’t allowed to stop whatever Taehyung may do, but he is allowed to stop it from going too far.

“Sometimes I think you forget how hard I can push back.” You glare down at your husband. “And how painful that can get for whoever I feel like putting in their place.”

Hoseok lets out a whistle of appreciation after you storm out of the dining room with Jungkook hot on your heels. He looks at Taehyung, chuckles at his tired state, and sits at the table while Jimin decides to join them. “She’s a handful, Taehyung. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“She’s not a handful,” Taehyung counters lamely because what Hoseok just saw definitely seemed like a handful. “Y/N’s lived like this her entire life and, unlike most of us, doesn’t embrace it.”

“Certainly sounds like she does.” Hoseok plucks the glass of water from where you previously sat and takes a sip. “Or does she only talk like that when she’s throwing a fit?”

“Believe me when I say if she plans on putting someone in their place,” Jimin finally speaks up, “she’s going to do it brutally. You’ll feel pretty stupid afterwards, too, so you should do what you can to avoid arguing with her, Hobi.”

Hoseok snorts. He won’t be intimidated by some girl who thinks she can handle the cruelties of this life just because she’s grown up around it. So has he, but he’s never been arrogant enough to throw out an attitude like that, especially not to a fucking boss of all people. Maybe if Taehyung wasn’t so whipped, he’d teach you what respect is.

“I’m serious, Hoseok.” Jimin is no longer smiling when Hoseok turns back to him. He recognizes the look in Hoseok’s eyes and doesn’t like it. If Taehyung, the one who actually gets a say in how you’re treated, says to never lay a hand on you no matter the circumstance, then all of the boys are to keep their damn hands off. His friend is far from abusive, Hoseok simply respects the chain of command with more passion than anybody. If something threatens that, then he’ll do what’s necessary to protect it. “If you can’t handle Y/N’s attitude, then you stay the hell away from her.”

Hoseok watches Jimin march out of the dining room, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek before facing Taehyung. “First Jungkookie looks ready to throw himself between you and her in the middle of a fight, and now Jimin thinks he can just go around threatening anybody. That girl’s power trip must be contagious.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, Hoseok.” Taehyung curls his hand into a fist on the table and notices Hoseok’s eyes dart to the action. “But if you can’t respect Y/N, then I’ll toss you right back where I found you, rotting in the gutter.”

Hoseok looks down at the table and smiles, not at all bothered by Taehyung’s threat. “She reminds me of your mom. Y/N’s so much like her that I flashed back to the Christmas of our senior year in high school. Remember that?” He doesn’t wait for Taehyung to answer before he continues. “Your father had promised that year’s Christmas to be a work free one, but when she’d caught him on the phone, dealing with another shipment, she lost her mind. She screamed at him, hit him, threatened to disappear from his life if he didn’t get his shit together.”

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “Everyone had been home that Christmas. My grandparents, my aunts, and uncles. They all watched my big bad father get chewed out by a woman who could barely reach his shoulders. They likened it to a pitbull being afraid of a chihuahua. I think that’s why my mother loves Y/N so much, because she doesn’t take anyone’s shit.”

“So she has momma Kim’s seal of approval, huh?”

“The only girl who ever has.”

“You did bring some pretty mean trainwrecks through her house.” Hoseok teases him, though his smile drops as he becomes serious once again. “I know Jimin thinks I’ll hurt Y/N if I think she’s overstepped, but I won’t. If anything, I look forward to watching you cowering under the hateful gaze of your wife. It’ll be the most entertaining thing that’s happened in a long time.”

“All of the boys are excited to watch that happen.” Taehyung shakes his head.

“Are you going to let her go back to work?” Hoseok tilts his head in question. “It won’t be too bad if Jungkook’s with her. Maybe she’ll even let Jimin tag along.”

“I can’t take that chance right now. Joongki might have let her work, but there weren’t any threats against them at the time. Now someone’s after the Seong brothers and if they can use Y/N to do it, they will.”

“This is the Y/N you’ve been obsessed with since you were a kid, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t obsessed,” Taehyung insists. “At least not in a creepy way.”

“She’s married to you,” Hoseok points out. “The girl you’ve been hopelessly pining after since you were a teenager is now your wife. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a creepy stalker.”

“Shut up, Hobi.”

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Standing across from Taehyung in the break room of your workplace, you grip the strap of your backpack tight and clench your teeth. You should have known better. Honestly, you almost didn’t run off because you knew he’d come chasing you down eventually. Even more honestly, if you didn’t actually want him to know where you were then leaving your phone somewhere miles off would have been the best idea. You’re aware of the ‘discreet’ tracking app that Yoongi had installed on the phone, hiding it amongst the music files as if you hadn’t memorized each and every one.

Coworkers gather around to watch the spectacle Taehyung has created. Some have the decency to pretend they’re not being nosy while others whisper to each other about the handsome stranger you’re facing off with. Most women are trying their hardest to catch his eye, but his focus is solely on you. It drives the women nuts and you almost smile at the thought until Jimin and Jungkook flank Taehyung on either side.

You almost flinch at the look of betrayal on Jungkook’s face. He was in charge of you, of your whereabouts and needs, and you ran from him. You’d snuck off from right under his nose and sent him into a panic, leaving him with no other option than to dial Taehyung. His anxiety subsided when Taehyung calmly explained that he was sure of where’d you be, thus leading them to this moment. You want to explain, to tell him that deceiving him was one of the hardest decisions you’ve made in a long time. There’s relief in his eyes, obviously, but there’s also anger and pain. “Jungkookie, I---.”

“Y/N?” Your friend and ex-boyfriend, Seojun, questions as he enters the break room. He scans over Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin, sensing the anger rolling off of you in waves. He steps in your direction to make sure you’re alright. Being broken up doesn’t mean he can’t still care about you. When your eyes cut to him, he catches you wince before the deep bass of Taehyung’s voice recaptures your attention.

“Princess,” Taehyung grits out in irritation when your attention shifts elsewhere. A smirk lights up his features when your eyes dart between him and the man who’d just called your name, panic crossing your features. You don’t want him to know who this is and that’s something he can use to his advantage. “You could have easily avoided my being here if you hadn’t snuck away from Jungkook. You really hurt his feelings, sweetheart. Look at him, he’s heartbroken.”

“Shattered into a million pieces, boss,” Jungkook deadpans, earning himself a spiteful glare. Tilting his chin and raising a brow, he silently questions why you’re the one who’s angry when he’d been running around like a chicken with his head cut off for the past two hours.

“Something of his will be broken soon, but I can assure you it won’t be his heart,” you snap, making Taehyung grin his rare boxy smile that you’d possibly return on any other day. Now though, now you want to slap the smile off his annoyingly handsome face. You see Jimin take a cautious step away from Jungkook in hopes of protecting himself and admittedly, it almost makes you giggle. Jimin always knows how to make you laugh even on the darkest of days, yet as he stands at Taehyung’s side, you know who he’ll always remain loyal to.

Taehyung’s heavy sigh slices the tense air and he’s in front of you in a matter of seconds, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He can see the internal struggle you have to not recoil at his touch or slap his hand away. Maintaining a public image is something drilled into someone as soon as they step into the mafia life, but he figured you’d be angry enough to not care in front of your coworkers, and expecting you to blow up at him. When you don’t, he suspects it has something to do with the women who haven’t stopped ogling him since he first walked in. “Interesting,” he voices aloud and you jump at the way his fingers slide along the length of your jaw before he tucks his thumb, tilting your chin upward.

Your breath catches in your throat as he steps closer, bridging the gap between you two. It takes everything in you to not bite the thumb currently skimming across your bottom lip. The last time you’d done that, Taehyung had taken it upon himself to return the favor by biting down on the pulse point of your neck. You don’t need a repeat of that incident in front of your coworkers. A sigh escapes you when he wraps his free arm around your waist and nuzzles his face in your hair.

“You don’t want me,” Taehyung whispers in your ear, playfully nipping at it, “but you don’t want them to have me either, do you, princess?”

You grit your teeth, dropping your forehead to his chest, and using your hair as a curtain to hide your mouth. “I don’t care if they want you, Kim Taehyung. You could take any of them home right now if you wanted to and I wouldn’t give a damn.”

“Don’t tempt me, Y/N,” he growls low and it’s then that you realize how angry he truly is. Taehyung doesn’t use your real name with the exception of introductions during a dinner party, charity event, and when you get too stubborn in your ways. “If you want me to take a girl home and fuck her brains out while you sit and stew in your own denial, then I will.”

You stiffen in his arms, the mere thought making you nauseous. You know damn well how eager any one of these girls would be to jump in bed with him. Suddenly, a certain presence looms over the room, something dark makes the place feel smaller than it already is. “Seojun,” you breathe with realization. It’s him, his stare nearly burning a hole into the side of your face as his jealousy blankets the room.

Taehyung grits his teeth, hand sliding up to tighten at the nape of your neck and knotting the hair there. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he’s about to move away to face whoever the hell Seojun is. His grip loosens and fear strikes the air before you’re looping your arms through his to lock together at his back. The embrace is seemingly romantic to everyone else, but he knows that it’s to keep him in place.

He sighs once more and skims his fingers down to massage the tension in your neck, lips brushing against your cheek as he pretends to ignore what you’ve just said. “Can I kiss you, princess? And then every girl in here will know who I belong to. Sound good to you, baby?”

You’re on the tips of your toes, gripping the back of his neck, and tugging him down into a kiss as soon as he finishes the question. The hand in your hair tugs on it gently, silently asking for you to open up to him, but you’re already pulling away before it goes too far. Public affection is never something you could bring yourself to like but Taehyung makes it a little more tolerable. Even so, this was still your place of work and it requires a level of professionalism that you’re one more kiss away from throwing out the window.

Taehyung grins against your mouth as your chest heaves and he straightens up to take the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He tosses the bag to Jimin, who immediately digs through it in search of your work vest. With Cecil’s men dead and Jungkook on a new level of awareness after your disappearing act, enough of the threats to the Seong family have been eliminated for you to work peacefully. You’re not entirely out of the woods just yet, there’s still the matter of finding who paid Cecil, but he’s already spoken with your boss about Jungkook hanging around and keeping an eye on you. He’ll send Jimin down to help after the house has been cleaned up.

Jimin produces your vest and tosses it to Taehyung after swiping the name badge clipped on the fabric. He hands Jungkook the backpack to rifle through the contents, catching a quick peek of your puzzle book. Such a nerd, he thinks as a fond smile spreads across his face.

“I could murder her,” Jungkook mumbles from beside Jimin. “Scaring the shit out of us like that. Almost getting us killed because Taehyung was so pissed.”

“You have to admit that her determination is admirable,” Jimin jokes, nudging Jungkook with his elbow. “Come on, Jungkookie, don’t stay upset with her for too long. You saw the look on her face when we came in. She didn’t like sneaking away from us, but did we give her any other choice? No. So stop pouting and hold down the fort until I get back.”

Jungkook snorts in response. He’s still pissed off at himself for letting you slip through his fingers like that. Jimin only chuckles under his breath and Jungkook is left rolling his eyes. He catches the sight of Seojun in the process, the man’s mouth parted with confusion and brows pinched together in anger. Jungkook looks Seojun over and notes the way his eyes never leave you and Taehyung. Elbowing Jimin to get his attention, he gestures to Seojun, and Jimin clocks the way Seojun’s fists curl at his sides.

Taehyung is too busy swinging the vest around your shoulders to pay any more attention to Seojun. Pulling the zipper up to secure your vest, he tugs you a step closer and fiddles with the pull tab while pressing his forehead to yours. “You can stay, sweetheart.”

“I can?” You break out into a smile before you can stop yourself, pulling back to see his face. If he’s pulling a cruel joke, you’ll kill him. You will 1,000% murder your husband on the spot. But no, he’s not teasing you. “Seriously?”

“Under the condition that Jungkookie stays with you,” Taehyung clarifies, setting his jaw. When you bite your bottom lip in attempt to stop your smile, he tests your giddiness by leaning in for another quick kiss that you happily return. “Jimin will be back in about an hour to help him keep watch. So don’t try to run away from either of them.”

“I promise!” You throw your arms around his shoulders and squeeze him close. To a normal couple, being told that one actually has permission to do their job would be cause for concern. So it was understandably confusing for your coworkers when you practically vibrated with excitement at being allowed to work, of all things.

Taehyung presses another kiss to your lips, holding it just a bit longer than the previous two and smiles as you laugh against him. He’s surprised to find that he can easily slip his tongue past your parted lips, and that you eagerly accept him. When he finally pulls away, you’re looking at him like he just gave you the world, and it dawns on him that this, this is all you asked for. The freedom to make your own choices and keep at least a little bit of your previous life didn’t seem like an option with your cousins and now he was doing the same thing they had. He’s keeping you from enjoying the little things like the job you didn’t necessarily have to keep anymore.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll see you at home, bye!” You rush past your husband, quickly snatching the name badge Jimin was holding out, and dancing in place as you swipe it through the time clock. Jungkook is basically sprinting after you in an effort to keep up with your newfound energy.

Jimin steps up beside his friend as Taehyung tries to compose himself by shoving one hand in his pocket and clearing his throat. He rolls his eyes as Taehyung uses his thumb to swipe away the chapstick you’d left behind on his lips. “You look like a kid in a candy store, you weirdo.”

“She called it home.”

“Yeah, for now,” Jimin snorts and it’s Taehyung’s turn to roll his eyes. “I give it two days before you fuck up something else.”

“Thanks for the support, asshole.”

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You don’t explore much of the house until about the 4th month into the marriage. You've seen most of the first floor and so far, Namjoon’s miniature library is your favorite place. The second floor consists of the guys’ rooms and you find it odd that Taehyung would have them sleep an entire floor away from you. They’re meant to protect you should anything go wrong, so why?

“Find what you’re looking for, Mrs. Kim?”

You jump and whirl around to face Hoseok, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “Jesus, Hobi. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs, though he doesn’t seem very apologetic at all. He’s drenched in sweat, hair is matted to his forehead, and he’s unraveling tape from his knuckles.

“You were boxing,” you point out with admiration. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, I was done anyways.” He waves his hand dismissively, but notes the way your lips part in curiosity. “Do you want to try?”

“I didn’t know Taehyung had a gym in the house.” You immediately change the subject. Yes, you want to box. Not exactly ‘try’ because you have enough training to defend yourself. This newfound knowledge of a home gym has you excited. The idea of being able to let out your frustrations on a punching bag is thrilling.

“Jungkook requested it before the house was built.”

“Kook did?” You reel back in surprise. If Jungkook was around before this house was built then… “How old is this place?”

“A few years, I believe.” Hoseok finishes unwrapping his hands and crumples up the used tape. “Taehyung had it built for you when he found out your cousin wanted to merge the families.”

“Right.” You clench your jaw. You often forget how long this plan was in the making before judgement day. Or your ‘wedding’, as some would call it. Still, that Taehyung would go through such effort to build a home just for you, almost brings a smile to your face. Shaking the thought from your head, you take the tape from Hoseok’s hands to keep your own occupied. The itch to pick at your cuticles is clawing its way to the surface and you need to stop it before it takes over. “It’s flattering, I know that, but it’s also a reminder of the life I didn’t intend on having.”

“A safe one?” Hoseok quirks one of his brows, watching you fiddle with the used tape and catching the tiny scabs on your cuticles.

“A different one,” you say as the ball of tape is tossed back and forth between your hands. “One where I didn’t feel like a prisoner.”

“What happened?” He quickly snatches one of your hands and the tape falls to the floor. There’s a hint of dried blood on the cuticles of your nails and the skin around the pads of your fingers look to be gnawed on. “How long have you been doing this?”

You try to pull your hand back but it’s useless when it comes to escaping Hoseok. You learned this after spending a month with him as your bodyguard instead of Jungkook, when Taehyung had insisted you build a friendship with Hoseok before the rest of the guys. You had asked why and it had become clear after Hoseok was the one to track you down in a matter of minutes during your first attempt to run away.

“Hobi,” you grunt, twisting your wrist out and away from his hold with ease, instead wrapping your own fingers around his wrist to shove him away and he stumbles back. You laugh at the shock on his face. “Sometimes when I get too nervous or antsy, I chew on my fingers. It’s not very ladylike, is it? I didn’t do it for awhile after my teen years, but recently---.”

“How did you do that?” He interrupts your explanation. “Get out of my grip like that?”

Of course, he knows how you did it. His question is more about who trained you to do it, who taught you to defend yourself, and who taught you to fight. It’s the first time he’s seeing anything like it from you and he’s sure that Taehyung and Jungkook, or any of the guys for that matter, have no clue you can do it either.

You shoot him a teasing smile and pick the tape up from the floor. “My grandfather always wanted to make sure I could do at least the bare minimum if I was attacked. So, he had some of his men teach me to fight alongside Joongki and Jeonghan. I’m sure I’m nowhere near any of your guys’ levels, but I like to think I could hold my own against you if need be.”

“You’re really something else, aren’t you?” Hoseok questions with awe. He doesn’t mean it in an offensive way and he’s glad you realize that as your shoulders tremble with more laughter. “Taehyung always said you were amazing, but I thought it was because he’s so in love with you. Not because you’re a genuinely amazing person.”

You pale at the words ‘in love’ because although you’ve always known about Taehyung’s affections, you’ve never known how deep they truly run. Up to this point, you thought his feelings were more infatuation and lust than anything else.

“Enjoying your little tour, princess?” Taehyung comes from around the corner, leaning against the wall.

“You’re back.” You resist the urge to go to him. The space he’d given you when you first moved in was welcomed, and then you’d gone and given him a reason to revoke that privilege by trying to run away. After spending time together now that he’d been sleeping in the same room, that you had come to learn was actually the master bedroom and he’d been gentleman enough to leave it to only you, you found that you would actually miss him when he was out. There are nights when you sidle up to him as soon as he steps in the door, and you know he’s aware of how dependent you’ve become on his presence because Jimin did you the not so kind favor of pointing it out.

“I’m home,” Taehyung confirms, the ends of his lips almost tugging up into a smile. The way you basically wait for him to come home every day tugs at his heart. He didn’t think it would only take a few months for you to warm up to him, slowly, but definitely surely. He’d calculated that it would take you at least a year to want to be around him. Maybe two, maybe even ten given how stubborn you are. “Finally found your way upstairs, huh?”

“I was bored.”

“I know.” He pushes off the wall and comes to take the tape from your hands. He finally looks at Hoseok and nods. “Did Hoseok teach you anything?”

“Apparently there’s no need,” Hoseok explains while crossing his arms. “Did you know that she can fight? Not that sissy slap fight that some people do. I mean, real fighting, Taehyung.”

“You’re exaggerating, Hobi.” You roll your eyes and try to snatch the tape back from Taehyung, but he’s quick to pull it out of your reach. “You make it sound like we just went a full round of sparring. I was just able to get out of your hold, that’s all.”

“That’s the most important part,” Hoseok says as you and Taehyung begin a playful game of keep away. He’s sure you don’t notice the grin on your own face when you jump for the piece of trash in Taehyung’s hand. “Even if you can’t actually fight, being able to get away and run as fast as you can is the deciding factor in whether you live or die.”

You’re not listening anymore. It’s not to be rude or simply because you’ve heard it already. It’s because you’re trying to pry the tape away from your husband and you don’t even know why. Perhaps because you had it first? It’s childish thinking, you know it, but it’s what makes this part so fun. You make one final lunge for the used tape and Taehyung grabs your wrist, not prepared for you to counter it so quickly. Clamping down on his wrist with your free hand, you pry it away from your own and duck. You twist around, never letting up on his wrist, and pin his arm gently behind his back. A triumphant grin breaks out on your lips, but it’s short lived.

Taehyung spins around on his heel and is able to quickly back you against the wall. His fingers are already curling around your forearm to press against the plaster. He feels the push of your other hand to his chest and he’s shoved away with more force than expected. His chest rises and falls rapidly, winded from the surprising amount of energy this small little tussle took from him. You don’t rush to him like he thinks you will, instead clutching something in your hand that you open to reveal the balled up tape.

“Whoa,” Hoseok whispers, having been present the entire time rather than giving the two of you privacy like the other guys usually do. He was simply too curious to see how this would pan out. He’s going to say something, not entirely sure what words to use, when he looks back at Taehyung to find an all too familiar look on his face.

Taehyung’s pupils are blown wide as he drinks you in. From the cat-like curve of your lips, to the useless tape balled up in your palm, and down to the heaving of your chest. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie, he knows that, but never had a scuffle turned him on. The fact that you’re his wife and not some bulky, sweat drenched man definitely contributes.

“Well,” Hoseok chimes in uncomfortably, “I’m going to go anywhere that’s not here. You guys have fun.”

You don’t even realize Hoseok is still there until he breezes past you to make himself scarce, watching him disappear from the hallway. When you look back at Taehyung, he’s already in front of you and running the back of his knuckles across your cheek. The affectionate touch makes you blush, heat spreading across your entire body as he leans in so close that his nose bumps yours.

“Will you welcome me home, princess?” he rasps against your lips and it snaps you out of your own thoughts.

“Your home, Tae,” you whisper back and bump his nose gently, “not mine.”

“You are my home, Y/N.” His lips brush yours with every whisper before he fully presses against your mouth. A tiny kiss that somehow leaves you wanting much, much more. But then he’s pulling away and kissing your cheek next. “I know you hate being here, and the idea makes you want to puke, but this is your home. Always.”

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Later, when you basically skip into the living room with a very tired looking Jungkook and Jimin, Taehyung is surprised when you plop next to him on the couch. You’re equally as exhausted as the guys, but it’s a good kind of tired, like you’ve accomplished something.

“What did you do to Jungkookie, princess?” Taehyung plays with the locks of your hair. He looks to his youngest member and almost laughs at the way Jungkook’s shoulders are slumped forward, his hair is matted with sweat, and like he’s on the verge of passing out.

Jimin is standing next to him looking pristine as ever, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth at Jungkook’s state.

“I didn’t do anything to him.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “He was just having a hard time keeping up, that’s all.”

“Retail workers are animals!” Jungkook bellows, throwing his arms out in frustration. “And the customers who shop there are even worse! Who raised these people, savages?!”

“Kook, you’re in a gang!” You look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“Yeah well, nobody I’ve ever pointed a gun at has yelled at me for giving them the wrong color sweater, alright?” Jungkook runs his hand down his face before rubbing his tired eyes. “I need a nap.”

Taehyung chuckles as Jungkook stalks upstairs to his bedroom. His shift is over now that you’re home anyways, so the least Taehyung can do is let the poor kid sleep.

Jimin bids the two of you goodnight, making his way to the staircase and quickly following after Jungkook.

“I think Kook’s traumatized.” You turn your head to Taehyung just as he leans in and brushes his nose against yours.

“We should probably get him an emotional support animal,” he jokes, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Did you have a good day, sweetheart?”

You tilt your chin up as his mouth travels lower, leaving open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Nodding in response to his question, you ask, “did you?”

“It’s boring in the house without someone to argue with,” his tongue snakes out lick at your skin before he’s pulling on it with his teeth.

“I’m sure Yoongi could have kept you entertained if you pushed his buttons enough.”

Taehyung knows that his being able to touch you within reason is basically a reward for granting you basic human rights. He didn’t like to think of it as keeping you a prisoner in your own home, but he knows there’s no other way to describe being locked inside almost 24 hours a day. He wanted to think you were finally understanding the rules and would stop fighting him. That wasn’t the case, he sees that now, because he practically falls to his knees every time you allow him to touch or kiss you. Little by little, you’re breaking his resolve with how defiant you can be, and then turning him to mush when he apologizes for making you feel a certain way. You’re practically training him like one would a new puppy.

“Tae,” your moan breaks his train of thought, and he pulls away to find that at some point he’d leaned you flat on your back. His hand had dipped into the waistband of your jeans and he was quick to pull back in case you were uncomfortable. You giggle and sit up to cup his jaw, giving him one more kiss before retreating to the bedroom.

“She’s happy,” Yoongi observes as he steps into the living room. “What did you do to deserve that?”

“Why doesn’t anybody in this house ever take my side?” Taehyung readjusts the way he sits on the couch. He beckons Yoongi closer and takes the tablet from his outstretched hand.

“Because it’s easier to take Y/N’s side.” Yoongi smirks. “It’s certainly more entertaining.”

“This Seojun guy,” Taehyung swipes through photos of your ex, most of which consisted of you by Seojun’s side or tucked underneath his arm. “Who is he?”

“A nobody, really.” Yoongi throws himself on the couch next to Taehyung. “Just some guy who was lucky enough to be hired fresh out of high school. He’s been with the company for 7 years now. He and Y/N dated for about a year before breaking up. Jimin asked around and found out that Seojun didn’t like how secretive Y/N was when it came to her family. So he broke up with her.”

“She didn’t look too happy when I showed up today.” Taehyung grips the tablet tighter when a picture pops up of you and Seojun from his instagram. You’re in a bed with Seojun’s arms wrapped tight around your waist and his face tucked in the crook of your neck.

“She never looks happy to see you,” Yoongi counters and earns himself a sneer.

“I’m saying she didn’t want me to know who this guy was, smartass.” Taehyung tosses the tablet back to Yoongi. He runs a hand through his hair and moves for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “Did you get anywhere with the Ahn brothers?”

Yoongi pulls up more images on his tablet and hands it to Taehyung. “The Choi family isn’t happy with Joongki and Jeonghan. It seems your family wasn’t the only one hoping to merge with the Seong’s.”

Taehyung stiffens as he swipes through photo after photo of you with Joongki’s men, but there was someone else trailing you. They weren’t close enough for you to think anything of it, and maybe your cousins hadn’t pieced it together yet either, but Taehyung knows this man, and he clenches his jaw. “Meaning?”

“Mr. Choi had been trying for months to convince Joongki to hand off Y/N to his oldest son, Hyunwoo, and he almost did before your father stepped in and told him the truth about the Choi family.” Yoongi leans against the kitchen counter and drops his voice to a whisper as the opening of a door echoes down the hallway. “Joongki didn’t want to scare Y/N or his brother, so he didn’t tell them why he was so quick to go to your father. Neither of the Seong brothers are the actual target. Y/N is.”

“What about me?” you pipe up, stepping into the kitchen while running a towel through your damp hair. You grab the glass full of water and take a few sips, eyeing Yoongi and Taehyung suspiciously. “What are you two up to?”

“Taehyung was curious about your friend Seojun,” Yoongi is quick to throw his boss underneath the bus, crossing his arms and tsking at Taehyung. “Jealousy is not a good color on you.”

“Sometimes I think you really forget what I’m capable of, Min Yoongi.” Taehyung pushes Yoongi out of the kitchen with a hiss. “Don’t think I won’t get you back for this, you son of a bitch.”

You hoist yourself onto the counter, running your hand through the tangled mess of clean hair. It should probably piss you off that Taehyung had Yoongi dig up information on Seojun, but your ex isn’t exactly your favorite person. After he’d broken up with you, he had made it pretty clear that unless you fessed up about your family, he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Six months after that, he’d heard about your marriage but was yet to know who your husband was. Protecting him from Taehyung earlier was more out of instinct than anything else. Taehyung just doesn’t have to know that part.

“You don’t like Seojun.” You swing your legs back and forth gently as Taehyung makes his way back into the kitchen.

“I don’t like any man that’s touched you before me.” He takes the cup back and downs the rest of the water. “I imagine you wouldn’t like meeting the women I’ve been with either.”

“Your one night stands aren’t comparable to the relationships I’ve had.” You glare at him with the hope that the side of his face will catch on fire. “Your women were just placeholders in your bed. They were there to warm it, not to become a permanent fixture in your life.”

“And you were planning on being a permanent fixture in Seojun’s life?” Taehyung turns to meet your glare with a sneer of his own. “Were you going to marry that pathetic little nobody, share a mediocre life, and live in comfort rather than luxury?”

“Your definition of luxury is burying someone in the most expensive gifts and then leaving them to their own vices.” You jump off the counter with a huff, snatching the towel you’d set down. “Maybe the women you’ve slept with could live with that, but I can’t. Seojun may not have millions of dollars to throw at anyone he wants, but he makes due with what he does have. And unlike you, his father wouldn’t have to step in to get me to marry him.”

Taehyung braces his hands against the counter as you saunter off, his shoulders tense and chest heaving with anger. He hears the slamming of the bedroom door and he bangs his fist against the counter before he’s storming down the hall after you. When he reaches the door, he’s even more pissed to find that you’ve locked it, and he’s seconds away from tearing it off its hinges when a piercing whistle catches his attention.

Jimin is standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall and swinging a key ring around his finger. “Man, I really should have bet a few hours before you fucked things up instead of betting two days. I can’t wait to see how your wife reacts to you lying about having only one key to the master bedroom.”

Taehyung snatches the key from Jimin and growls out, “if you don’t want to be the next person I murder, then I suggest you walk away, Park.”

Jimin only shakes his head with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender and doing as he’s been told. It wasn’t the first time Taehyung threatened him and it certainly won’t be the last. He makes it back to his room in one piece where he finds the rest of the guys waiting. He grins as he looks around and says, “I think Y/N is my new hero. Nobody’s been able to piss off Taehyung like that in a long time.”

“She’s ballsy, I’ll give her that.” Yoongi looks up from the laptop he’d been typing away on.

“She’d make one hell of a leader,” Seokjin chimes in and Yoongi chuckles low in his throat.

“You’re lucky if Taehyung doesn’t have you tossed in a river with weights tied around your ankles for starting that fight,” Namjoon scolds Yoongi and gestures them closer to see what he’d been working on. “The Choi family is gaining quite the reputation for all the shit Hyunwoo keeps pulling. We’re talking gambling debts, jail time for street brawls, even a few women accusing him of sexual assault. I mean, this guy is close to costing Mr. Choi his whole empire. Nobody wants to work with them, even their supply is suffering. They’ll be left with nothing soon.”

“Choi wants to use Seong’s climbing reputation to save his own ass.” Jimin skims his eyes down the screen of Hyunwoo’s rap sheet.

“It goes a little deeper than that,” Namjoon frowns as Yoongi pulls up a different tab. “Hyunwoo went to high school with Y/N, had the biggest crush on her, but she always rejected him. I talked to her friends and they said that Hyunwoo couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Whenever Y/N snubbed him, he’d corner one of them and threaten their lives if they didn’t try to talk Y/N into dating him. He was obsessed with her, still is. So I’m guessing he promised Choi that he’d clean up his act if he got Y/N.”

“Choi must have pursued Joongki for a long time.” Jungkook stretches his arms above his head until his back finally pops. He rolls his shoulders next as if preparing himself for a fight. If they go to Taehyung right now then they’d certainly be gearing up for one.

“He was close, too.” Yoongi curls his hands into fists at the thought of where you’d be now if Mr. Kim hadn’t stepped in. “Joongki almost agreed to the marriage because he was under the impression that Choi still had a good following.”

“So what happened?”

“Mr. Kim happened,” Yoongi explains, letting out a slow breath. “Nobody’s loyal to Choi anymore. Some of his men branched off and told other bosses what the plan was for the Seong family. Luckily, one of them came to Mr. Kim and he was able to get to Joongki before anything became final.”

“Does Y/N know any of this?” Jungkook questions while looking back and forth between Yoongi and Namjoon. When both men shake their heads, he scoffs. “Don’t you think she should? She’d probably be more inclined to fucking listen to us if she knew what was really happening.”

“Or she’d run away and disappear off the map.” Seokjin offers an alternative. He knows you well enough by now and if you knew how much danger you were truly in, then there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d leave. “We can’t take that chance, Kook. She’s our family now and we take care of family. So we’ll deal with Choi soon and be done with it.”

---------------------------------------

“I’m not really sure what you think you’re doing,” you interrupt whatever Hyunwoo is doing at your locker and he whirls around to find you a few feet away, “but it’s not going to happen, Choi. Move on.”

He steps away from your locker, giving you space to open it and shove your books inside. He gives you a greasy smile and leans against the locker next to yours. “You always say ‘never’ Y/N, but I’m pretty sure I can change your mind if you let me.”

“The only way I’m going to give you a chance is if you let me push you off a cliff.” You slam the locker closed just as your friends approach. “What’s your deal, Hyunwoo? Why don’t you get it by now? I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Most girls would kill to be by my side,” Hyunwoo slaps an open palm on the lockers, rattling them enough to make your friends jump, but you stand strong.

“Then you don’t really need me, do you?” You turn to walk away with your friends only to have him clap his hand on your shoulder, and you’re shoved against the lockers. You wince at the impact, the combination locks dig into your spine, and Bona runs off to find help.

“I don’t need your permission to have you, you know?” Hyunwoo hisses in your face, his forearm rests gently on your collar bone, not heavy enough to cut off your air supply, yet. “My father will give me anything I ask for and if that’s you, then you don’t get a choice anymore. I suggest you come willingly while I’m still asking nicely.”

“There’s not a fucking thing nice about you, Hyunwoo,” you sneer and stomp on his foot, digging your heel into the top of it. It’s enough for him to release his grip as he jumps back in pain, and you’re already cocking your arm back to land a solid punch across his jaw when Bona comes rushing back with Jeonghan in tow.

Jeonghan moves for Hyunwoo but you step in front of your cousin before he does anything to get himself in trouble. He stiffens as Hyunwoo straightens up and uses the back of his hand to wipe away the blood dripping from his mouth. Gripping your arm, he gets ready to pull you behind him if Hyunwoo gets any closer.

You shrug Jeonghan off and take a step toward Hyunwoo. “Your daddy may baby the shit out of you, but make no mistake, Hyunwoo, you’re a trash human being. If you keep this up, you’ll run your father’s reputation into the ground and then where will you be? Certainly daddy won’t keep you around if you’re useless.”

Hyunwoo is seething, and if steam could come out of his ears, you’re pretty sure it would. He lifts his hands to grab you once more, but a teacher’s voice stops him. His eyeline is blocked by Mr. Lee, a math teacher that won’t have a job tomorrow if Hyunwoo can help it.

Mr. Lee directs both you and Hyunwoo to the principal’s office, stopping every so often to ask why Jeonghan is following behind him. He gets a mere shrug in response and he sighs, letting your cousin do as he pleases. He sits you in a chair far away from Hyunwoo before entering the principal’s office and explaining the situation.

Jeonghan stays plastered to your side, concern written all over his face as you goad Hyunwoo from across the room. You certainly had grandmother’s temper and, not for the first time that day, Jeonghan wishes you were a little less fierce. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hyunwoo sneer at you, bloody gums and all. You tilt your head mockingly in response, leaving Jeonghan to nearly facepalm. The only thing that stops him from slapping his own forehead is the rapid footsteps of Joongki, grandfather, and one of grandfather’s men.

Mr. Choi and his right hand man come barreling in next. They blink in surprise at Hyunwoo’s busted lip and your completely unruffled response to him. Mr. Choi is about to ask what exactly is going on when the principal steps out and calls everyone into his office.

“Mr. Choi, Mr. Seong, thank you for coming down.” Principal Chang settles in the chair behind his desk, swiping the glasses from his face to rub at his temples. “Seong Y/N, I wish I could say it’s a surprise to have you here, but it’s really not, is it?”

“Y/N,” your grandfather sighs tiredly in the cramped space, “what have you done now?”

“Nothing that wasn’t prompted,” you defend yourself wholeheartedly.

“You assaulted Hyunwoo, did you not?” Principal Chang looks at the bruise forming on Hyunwoo’s jawline. He wouldn’t voice out loud how impressed he was given that Hyunwoo is twice your size. Unfortunately, his actions speak for him as he nods his admiration for you.

“I didn’t assault Hyunwoo, I defended myself when he nearly choked me to death.”

At this, Joongki snaps his head up to look at the boy in the other chair, rage building underneath the surface. “He did what?”

Mr. Choi lays one hand on Hyunwoo’s shoulder and uses his other to grip his son’s chin. “Look at this. My son is the one bloodied and bruised, and you mean to tell me that you’re the victim in this?”

“Your son doesn’t understand the kindergarten concept of keeping his hands to himself.” You grip the sides of your chair and lean forward to taunt Hyunwoo. “I was simply reminding him of what happens when he doesn’t respect someone else’s boundaries.”

Your grandfather grips your shoulder and hauls you back into the seat. “Stop it.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an uptight bitch, then I wouldn’t bother you.” Hyunwoo fires back and tries to get in your face as you did him.

Daeseong, your grandfather’s most trusted man, steps in front of you and effectively cuts off any access Hyunwoo might have had. He stares down at the kid with a quirked brow until Hyunwoo seemingly shrinks in his seat. “You’ll refrain from using such language when it comes to Ms. Seong.”

Mr. Choi sputters at the blatant way his son is being intimidated and looks to Principal Chang for some kind of interference. “This girl damages my son’s face and her bodyguard has the audacity to try and scare him. Yet you want me to believe she’s done nothing wrong?”

“Believe what you will, Mr. Choi,” your grandfather’s voice holds the kind of authority that grown men usually cower at, “but given how your son just spoke to my granddaughter, I think it’s quite clear who the antagonist here is. Admittedly, it’s my fault she’s so headstrong. You see, Mr. Choi, my family doesn’t believe in ‘when you’re dead, lie down’, so my granddaughter obviously found it necessary to correct your son’s behavior.”

“You’re aware of who I am, Seong,” Mr. Choi seethes, attempting to be just as vicious. “I suggest you get that delinquent under control before I have to.”

“You’re also aware of who I am, Choi, so I suggest you watch your tone and be careful of who you threaten. Whatever happened here today is just a glimpse of what my granddaughter can do, and unless you want to find out what more there is, then you’ll get your poor excuse for a son under control before I have to.”

Your grandfather is bluffing and it really takes every muscle in your body to keep from reacting. The strength behind your punch is literally all you have, though after today, you’re sure you’re about to get some new self defense lessons. You’d throw your head back and groan if it didn’t give away his obvious lie. Thankfully, Principal Chang’s dismissal of everyone from his office so he can ‘think on your punishment’ saves you from embarrassing your grandfather any further.

Mr. Choi stops you from getting too far by gripping your arm, quickly letting it go as Daeseong latches onto his wrist in return. “You must think you’re so precious, don’t you, little girl?”

“No.” You don’t flinch away from him and you can tell he hates it. “I just know what it means to be a decent person. You’ve taught your son that the world would fall to his feet if he so much as commands it, but he is neither king nor god, Mr. Choi. Hyunwoo doesn’t get to demand the world only to throw a fit when he ultimately breaks it, and then you come in to clean up his mess. The longer you let him believe he’s untouchable, the more likely he is to fall harder than anyone else.”

---------------------------------

Taehyung watches you stomp around the room, pacing back and forth while tugging at your hair because he’d lied about there being one and only one goddamn key to the master bedroom. Tomorrow he plans to do away with the door completely if you so much as think about locking the fucking thing again. He’s sitting on the bed, dressed in sweats and a plain t-shirt, waiting for your tantrum to be over. “Are you done, princess?”

“No, I’m not fucking done!” you screech, picking up the nearest object and hurling it his way. Another frustrated scream bubbles from your throat as he easily catches the bottle of perfume headed towards his skull. “You asshole! You said there was one, one fucking key to this room, Taehyung, and you lied to me!”

“This isn’t about the key, Y/N, you and I both know that.”

“It’s certainly not about the array of women you’ve paraded through here!” You pick up a bottle of lotion, your favorite to be exact, and launch it at him. When he skillfully dodges it, you begin picking up anything and everything that isn’t nailed down and try your damndest to cause him some kind of damage.

“I’m not bitching about Seojun, am I?!” Taehyung counters and peers around for any more loose objects. “I’m not throwing the disaster of that relationship in your face!”

“It wasn’t a disaster!” Your chest is heaving from exertion and you’re sure that if your pulse raced any faster, you’d have a heart attack. “Seojun was the best thing that happened to me and my cousins ruined that! This life ruined it! And yes, Taehyung, if Joongki hadn’t pimped me out to you then I would have absolutely married Seojun. We’d get married, leave this godforsaken city, have some kids, and live happily ever after.”

Taehyung knows you’re trying to get under skin, knows you’re trying to work him up so you’d have an excuse for your cousins to pull you from his home. Truthfully, your words do hurt, they pierce his heart and piss him off at the same time. Joongki didn’t pimp you out to the Kim family, and he for damn sure wouldn’t have let you marry Seojun and take off. The idea of you having kids with your ex-boyfriend makes Taehyung’s blood boil. The mere idea of Seojun putting his hands anywhere on your person is enough to have your husband close to pulling out his phone and calling for a hit on the poor guy.

You can see the gears shifting in Taehyung’s head, the cold calculation of whatever he’s about to do, and you know that if you didn’t diffuse the situation soon, you’d cost Seojun his life. “Stop it, Taehyung. You don’t get to be an asshole about Seojun and then get mad at me for calling you out on it. You for damn sure don’t get to be pissed that I wanted some space after you were the one who lost your shit over nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” he growls low in his chest and shuffles up the bed to get comfortable. “It was that you felt like you had to protect him in the first place. You really think I’m some kind of monster that would have him killed because he dated you? Far from it, princess. I’m glad you were happy, but he’s not part of your life anymore. You’re my wife, mine, so you’ll forgive me if I get a little testy when you brag about some other man giving you a better life than I can. Especially when you haven’t even given me the fucking chance.”

“Hauling me into this house and then locking me in is not a better life, Taehyung. It’s barely even a life at all. You can say it’s for my own safety, I’ve heard it a thousand times before, but I know that it’s more about your pride than anything else. That the great Kim Taehyung has what someone else wants and no one can get to it.”

“You think if this was about my pride that I’d keep you locked away? There is nothing more that I want than to show you off to the world, Y/N. To show whoever wants you that you’re protected and safe from them, not because they can’t have you. My pride stems from the fact that I have one of the strongest women by my side who isn’t afraid to put me in my place. Not everyone finds that in this life, so yes, I’m proud to have you and no, I will not apologize for whatever kind of blow your ego takes because you can’t stand to be wrong.”

You walk up to the bed, and for a second Taehyung heaves a sigh of relief that the fight is finally over, but you simply strip the mattress of its sheets and turn to leave the room.

He’s on his feet, striding across the room and boxing you in against the door before you can yank it open. “And just where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Whirling around to face him, you hiss, “I’d sooner sleep under a bridge than in the same bed as you right now, Kim Taehyung.”

“That can be arranged if you want it, princess.” Taehyung is done. He’s jealous, he’s pissed, and he’s exhausted, so if you want to throw out empty threats then he’ll match you vicious word for vicious word.

“Then do it,” you challenge quickly. If he wants to toss you out because you fought him so hard then that’s all the opportunity you need to disappear.

His hand comes up to slap the door, landing dangerously close to your cheek, but you aren’t afraid of him or his outburst. He curls his lip up in a sneer before he bites down on his bottom lip and takes in a deep breath to compose himself. “We can fight, we can yell and scream at each other all you want, but at the end of the day this is the bed we’ll be sleeping in. You and I, because it’s ours and I’ll be damned if you curl up elsewhere, understand?”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he presses his forehead to yours because damn it, you’re supposed to be mad at him, not craving his stupid touch. You understand perfectly well, but he doesn’t need to know that, nor does he deserve a verbal response. Shouldering past him, you spin around and hold your hand out. “I want the key. Both of them.”

“There’s two for a reason, sweetheart.” Taehyung explains, turning to lean his back against the door and crossing his arms. “If you lock yourself in here and something happens, either me or one of the guys needs to be able to get in here. In fact, for that reason, I think I’ll be giving one of the keys to the boys and keeping the original copy for myself.”

Your fingers curl against your palm and you clench your teeth. “If I could, I’d drown you, Kim.”

“I know that you’re perfectly capable of it,” he smirks and crosses the room to the bed, “yet I’m not afraid to sleep in the bed as you.”

You try to crawl onto the bed next to him, but unlike most nights, he’s chosen to occupy your usual side of the bed. You huff and try to shove him over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Sleeping.” He pretends to yawn and bury himself into the mattress.

“I sleep on this side, Taehyung, you know that.”

“Not tonight, princess.” He smirks and closes his eyes, knowing how much you hated sleeping with your back against the wall. The bed was pressed into a corner of the very large room simply because after he moved into the room, he’d keep you pinned between him and the wall so you couldn’t run off in the middle of the night. After a few weeks, you’d complained about feeling claustrophobic and he’d relented, granting you the open side of the bed.

“I won’t do this crap again, Taehyung,” you warn with your hands on your hips after giving up on trying to move him. “Move over.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, instead tucking his arms behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankles to make himself comfortable. The bed dips unexpectedly and his eyes shoot open to find you swinging one leg over his frame as you settle yourself in his lap. He wastes no time in gripping your hips to keep you from falling if you lose your balance. “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t move.” You shrug your shoulders, sitting your full weight on his crotch and bunching your hair up to pull into a bun. “The only way for me to get to that side is to climb over you.”

He isn’t paying attention anymore, his hands grip you with a bruising force as your chest juts out with the way you pull your hair up. Your hips circle ever so slightly and he hisses through clenched teeth. This is payback, he realizes, and doesn’t have time to react before you’re rolling off and throwing the blankets over your body.

You hear him grumble something under his breath, but can’t tell what exactly it is. He’s angry, but it doesn’t stop him from turning on his side and snaking his arms around your waist. You nearly lose your breath when he harshly tugs your back to his chest so you push back against him in retaliation.

“You’re being a child,” he growls into your ear, “and if you plan on pushing against me all night, then you should also plan on not sleeping.”

You turn in his hold, coming face to face and bumping your nose against his. “You’re the one being a child, Taehyung. Not that you need to know, or even deserve it, but Seojun isn’t someone to be concerned about. I may not like that we’re married, but I’m not going to go out and violate the sanctity of our marriage either.”

You duck your head and nuzzle it beneath his chin before he can see the blush forming on your cheeks as you whisper, “I’m yours, Tae, no one else’s.”

He freezes and knows that if you hadn’t been embarrassed about admitting as much, then he would kiss you until you both struggled for breath. Your lashes flutter against his neck and he pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair and placing a kiss to your head.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Here’s to the Bad Guys

*Not my Gif*

Request: Hi, could you please write a Savitar x Reader where after Killer Frost's speech in 3x20 reader would figure out who Savitar is and when he shows up he would offer her a choice to take his side because he loves her and reader loves Barry who is focusing only on Iris? Reader could have powers and protect KF and Savitar from Cisco and Barry. Hope I explained it well and thank you in advance

Requested By: @kurtbastianlover

Paring: Savitar x Reader

Post Date: 6-27-19

Word Count: 3K (like exactly, what are the odds lol)

A/N: Hi! Sorry this took so long to write... I hope you like it as I have no idea if it's any good or not. Or if its what you wanted at all... Enjoy? 😂 I feel as if this wasn't one of my best pieces, but like, let me know what you all think! I may have done a lot of time skips...

- Ria

~Prompt List~

~Master List~

~Open Requests~

Requests open until July 1st

Unrequited love sucks. To sit there and pine for someone you know could never love you back. Someone who is in love with another. Barry Allen.

The same Barry Allen you've been in love with since you moved to Central City a few years after his mom's death. He was the first person you bonded with and soon you, Barry, and Iris became inseparable. But as Barry and you got closer you realized you were falling for the boy, only to see him falling for Iris. You never said anything, pining from a distance as Barry pined for Iris, hurting every time you saw them together.

But you being unloved will have to wait as right now, getting Cecile back from Killer Frost and protecting Tracy Brand was the goal. You stood behind Barry, as he tries to reason with Killer Frost.

"We're family." Barry says, only for Killer Frost to say the exact same time. Barry turned to you, both sporting an equally confused look before focusing on the girl again. "We protect each other until the end."

Again, Killer Frost joins his words.

"What the hell?" you mumble and take a step forward to be next to Barry. "How are you doing that?" Killer Frost looks at you and Barry, a smug smile on her face and you knew soon you'd be fighting.

"Savitar told me everything you'd say. You two are more alike than you realize." Her smirk somehow turned icy as you glared at her, preparing to try and fight one of your Best Friends. Your eyes turned into its purple color as you felt energy grace your fingertips. The fight didn't last long, starting when Killer Frost knocked Cisco out of the rafters with a bomb. He fell into a bunch of crates and barrels and got knocked out. You wanted to check on him, making sure he's ok, but when Killer Frost shot ice towards Joe's gun right next to you, you knew you didn't have the luxury to. You shot an energy blast at her, her dodging out of the way as it collided with the wall behind you. When she aimed her blasts toward you and Joe you got worried, only for Barry to jump in front, taking her blasts on him. Within a second, he was frozen to the ground and you were the last Meta standing, or so you thought. You aimed your blasts one last time, groaning when it missed and she struck you. But then Cisco hit her, causing her to fall. You got on your feet as Joe got Cecile out and Cisco and Killer Frost started their duel. You immediately joined Cisco, using all your energy to push her back as she flew into the wall, knocking her out. Cisco checked her pulse as he injected her with the serum and you checked on Barry.

"Are you all right?" you asked worriedly, wiping the ice off of him as he chuckles at you. He stops your hands as he smiles down at you. You couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach as his smile widened.

"I'm alright. I'm alright. Are you?" You nodded your head and he patted your arms before heading over to Cisco. You didn't watch as he left, just trying to ignore everything in you and try to check on your friend. But luck wasn't on your side as you barely took a step before Savitar sped into the room.

"My ascension is nearly at hand, Flash. As I rise, you will fall." He spoke, voice low from the tech in his suit. You just watched as his head turned to you and he crouched down to pick up Killer Frost.

One minute you were standing in front of Savitar as he stared at you, too scared to move but trying not to show it, and the next minute you were in the middle of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Damn these villains who love their warehouses. Your breath was shaky as you turned around, taking in the sight of Killer Frost lying on the ground as your eyes widened. Caitlin. She was still in there and you knew it. You kneel next to her, feeling for a pulse and once you find one you relax a little before tensing as you feel a presence behind you. Cursing under your breath you spin around, looking up at a towering Savitar.

"Y/N..." he whispered as he pulled you up. You pushed against his hold, hoping to find a way out. He quickly notices your movements and one hand stays holding your arm as the other cups your cheek. The touch and the feeling was so... familiar, but you couldn't place it, you didn't know why you know it but it caused you to falter. "Stay with us. Join us."

You scoff as you lean away from his touch, putting as much distance between you and him as possible. "Why the hell should I join you? You're the bad guys." You heard Killer Frost let out a cackle behind you as you face her, completely unsure if you could handle yourself now she was up.

"Are you going to tell her? Or am I?" she joked as you felt Savitar pull your chin to look at him again. Your stomach started to turn as he backed away, stepping out of his suit as you stared wide eyed and mouth opened.

Barry?

Your eyes found the scars across his face as he cowered under your gaze. You never thought you'd see Savitar like this. This scared. He took a few steps closer, not looking you in the eye as your breathing quickened.

"Because you love me. And I love you. And I can't hurt you anymore." he put his hand back on your cheek and you realized why you know the touch. It was his. But it was different. Your Barry, he only gave you these touches on certain occasions, when you needed it. And yet you'd watch from afar as he looked at Iris the way Savitar is looking at you. You felt like you couldn't breath as your eyes met, and you instantly remembered he wasn't the Barry you had loved. Right?

"She doubts you." Killer Frost had sung behind you as amusement laced her voice. Savitar did the last thing you'd ever imagine as he pulled your face up, moving his lips down to yours. Your brain went fuzzy as you closed your eyes, kissing back within seconds. It didn't matter that he wasn't your Barry, It was still Barry. As you pulled apart, you kept your eyes closed, deciding what to do next. Savitar stared down at you as you finally opened your eyes, taking a step back to look up at him.

"Okay. I'm on your side." You whispered as Savitar smiled down at you.

You heard Killer Frost behind you let out a surprised chuckle. You didn't turn around this time, choosing to look at Savitar, or Barry. "Well then. Here's to the bad guys."

That's when you realized something. "You're going to kill Iris. Wait... I don't- I don't want her to die. She's my friend." You insisted, eyes falling between the two. His face dropped as he looked at you.

"You could be a god Y/N. We could be gods, together." His voice was soft as he stepped close to you, grabbing your hand with his.

You squeezed his head but shook your head. "It isn't right. She doesn't deserve to die."

"She has to die, so I can live. Live with you." You could feel Savitar tense before smiling. "I'll be back soon. Someone wants to talk." he kisses your head as you close your eyes, pressing against his touch as he pulled away, getting into his suit before leaving you and Killer Frost alone. She walks in front of you, stopping only to cross her arms. She looks you up and down before smirking. You shy under her gaze before looking in her eyes.

"Caitlin?" you whispered, hoping your friend would come back. Killer Frost just laughed before walking closer.

Her voice chilled you right down to your bones, "Sorry, Not Caitlin. Killer Frost." You didn't look away though, denying that your friend was gone.

"But she's still in there. Somewhere. That's why haven't killed yet. You can still feel her, everything that was good about her. She's still you." You knew you were right when her eyes started to turn blue before she stormed off. You let out a breath before collapsing on the floor, thinking about what you'd just gotten yourself into.

Savitar ran to Barry, finding him screaming for him in the middle of the street. "I know who you are." Barry yells before Savitar tells him it's about time. Barry walks closer, mask off as he shares what he knows. "Everything with you is about time isn't it? The past, the present, the future, you know all of it. And you know everything about me! About Joe! About Wally! Iris and Y/N!" Savitar scoffs at the mention of you, causing Barry to stop talking and watch him.

"I know more about Y/N than you do, flash." He begins as Barry furrows his brows, taking a step back as he thinks about you.

"What did you do to her? Where is she!" he screams, sweat dripping down his face as he runs his hand through his hair. Savitar stays in power, unmoving as Barry stares at him.

"I offered her a future, one you wouldn't, by my side. You couldn't see the love she held for you and you held for her until it was too late. But I see it. She's happy with me." Barry looked crushed at his words, hearing you left the team hurt him. But hearing you loved him and he didn't know hurt more. Ignoring the heartache in his chest he stood his ground, continuing his argue with the 'God' in spite of the conflict inside him. But the conflict deepened as Savitar stepped out of the suit, showing Barry that he lost you, not just to his current enemy, but to himself.

Being with the 'Bad Guys' took its toll on you. Savitar came back and told you that Barry knew, and he knew you betrayed them and you knew you couldn't go back to them. Not now. Savitar kept you close to him, never letting you out of his sight unless Killer Frost was there as well. You hadn't minded the closeness to Barry, but you refused to look at her, only being reminded of Caitlin. She was still in there, she had to be.

You sat on a stool, watching as Savitar fixed his suit. You didn't say anything as Killer Frost approached you both. You ignored them, focusing on the suit in front of you as Savitar tinkers with the metal.

"...Barry and Caitlin at it again." Caitlin says as you start paying attention. Caitlin. She said Caitlin. Your head shot up as you tried to subtly play it off, but Savitar saw through it. He glared at you before focusing on Caitlin.

"You're not Caitlin. And I'm not Barry." He points his tool at Killer Frost and you see the realization hit her face. She slipped and it just proved to you even more your friend was in there. They continued to talk, but once again you stopped listening; only hearing small tidbits as they talked about Iris' death. "What I remember is being created as a disposable life. Something to be thrown away when Barry Allen was done with me. He didn't care about me. Why should I care about his love?"

You couldn't take listening to anything anymore. You stood up and walked around, away from their conversation. Savitar and Killer Frost both watched you before carrying on, but Savitar's eyes never left you.

Days went on and soon you found yourself standing next to Killer Frost in the woods, facing Cisco as a look of betrayal crossed his face. Savitar didn't take you with him. He couldn't let you see Iris die. He knew it would hurt you too much, but you knew the truth, H.R. and Iris switched. You watched them escape when he came to save her, nodding to tell them to go. And when Iris came back you thought you failed, only for her to tell you it wasn't her. They still trusted you, even if you had joined the 'Bad Guys'. You looked between Killer Frost and Cisco, two best friends separated by good and bad and you thought back on yours. She was still Iris, he was still Barry, but were you the same Y/N?

"In order to join him as a god, I have to cure myself of Caitlin. This has to happen." Caitlin begins to take a step forward, Ice forming as you prepare yourself to fight another one of your friends, but this time its the one you had sided with last time.

"I don't want to fight you. Either of you. Y/N, how could you side with them?" Cisco's eyes find yours as you close them, letting your energy flow through you, from the purple mist flowing around your hands up to the purple hue in your eyes.

"I'm sorry Cisco. Its complicated." you apologized, trying to figure a way out of this so no one gets hurt, but it didn't look good.

"I don't want to fight you either." Killer Frost interrupts your thoughts as your purple lit eyes widened. Cisco looked shocked as well before she continued. "I wanna kill you." She immediately shots a dagger of ice at him as he dodges. You stood there, not knowing how to help but not wanting to hurt anyone. When she finally lands a blow on him sending him to the ground she turns to you, smirking as her eyes glowed. "You planning on helping at any point or are you just gonna stand there and look pretty."

You nod your head but don't speak as you had no words. You made a mistake joining them but you couldn't back out now, only making sure no one gets hurt. You hesitated before stepping towards Cisco, his eyes widen as you lock with his. Only for Savitar to arrive behind you.

"Keep him alive." he said as you try to keep from smiling, hoping no one caught on. "I need him to build something for me." You bit your lip when you realize he was done with his battle. Meaning someone died, meaning H.R. died. He didn't know yet, but once he started clutching his head, doubling over as the memories flooded back, you figured out he knew.

"She's not dead."

Yep, he knew.

" H.R. took her place." You heard Cisco let out a gasp as you faced him, giving him an apologetic look as your eyes turned back to its normal E/C color.

"That means the futures changing." Cisco points out. Savitar glares at him before marching over in front of him.

"So is yours."

You found yourself divided from your team once again, time going by faster than you thought possible. Cisco built the gun and Gypsy rescued him, Savitar tried to kill everyone in STAR labs and you felt lost. Siding with Savitar, the man you love, a version but just the same, and you just wanted to be happy, to be with him, but you couldn't. You fought alongside Killer Frost against Gypsy and Cisco, the four of you using your powers to try and hit each other, you tried to stay close, choosing not to aim for your friends. It was going fine until Killer Frost shot her ice to Cisco, not catching Gypsy aiming for her. Without thinking, you jumped in front, getting caught in the cross fire as you flew backwards. You heard Cisco shout your name as you hit the ground, groaning as you met Killer Frost's eyes, she stared at you in shock and you swore, you could see Caitlin. The moment lasted only a few seconds as Gypsy took another hit at her, causing her to fall a few feet away from you. You both sat up, facing them as they made their way over.

Cisco pointed his hands at Killer Frost as she taunts him. "Go ahead Cisco. Go bad."

"Cisco." you whisper, earning his attention before he looks back at Caitlin. "She's still Caitlin. Trust me." he listens to your words, throwing a vial down at her as Savitar comes barreling into him. You feel your heart quicken as you watch Savitar pick up Cisco before Killer Frost shoots him into a tree.

"Barry!" you yell as he gets up. He locks eyes with you as he hits a running Barry. Leaving him on the ground as he towers over him. You hear his threats as you get closer, trying to find a way to get out of this. But soon when Savitar's back was turned, Barry runs straight into his suit, thrusting him out as he hit the ground and Barry now stands over Savitar, suit and all. You knew what you needed to do.

"Stop! You don't have to do this, you don't have to kill him, and you don't have to kill anyone. Don't let darkness dictate your lives. No one wins. No one. We will find a way to get through this. I'm not gonna let you leave me. You're stuck with me." Your hand found Savitar's face, copying the actions he'd done to you. You caught his smile as yours came; finally feeling like this could work. You'd find a way.

Barry destroyed the suit, placing a hand on your shoulder, letting you know that the team would help. You gave him a hug before turning back to Savitar. You didn't have to be a bad guy or a good guy; you could just be with him. Savitar or rather your Barry Allen.

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[smashpages]

Nominees for the 2018 Eisner Awards announced

Comic-Con International has announced the nominees for the 2018 Eisner Awards, presented annually in San Diego at the convention.

Monstress by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda and My Favorite Thing Is Monsters by Emil Ferris each received five nominations across various categories; other comics with multiple nominations included Mister Miracle, Black Hammer, The Flintstones, Grass Kings, Eartha and Hawkeye.

Check out the complete list of nominees below.

Best Short Story

“Ethel Byrne,” by Cecil Castelluci and Scott Chantler, in Mine: A Celebration of Liberty and Freedom for All Benefiting Planned Parenthood (ComicMix) “Forgotten Princess,” by Phillip Kennedy Johnson and Antonio Sandoval, in Adventure Time Comics #13 (kaboom!) ”A Life in Comics: The Graphic Adventures of Karen Green,” by Nick Sousanis, in Columbia Magazine (Summer 2017), https://ift.tt/2I41VPy “Small Mistakes Make Big Problems,” by Sophia Foster-Dimino, in Comics for Choice (Hazel Newlevant) “Trans Plant,” by Megan Rose Gedris, in Enough Space for Everyone Else (Bedside Press)

Best Single Issue/One-Shot

Barbara, by Nicole Miles (ShortBox) Hellboy: Krampusnacht, by Mike Mignola and Adam Hughes (Dark Horse) Pope Hats #5, by Ethan Rilly (AdHouse Books) The Spotted Stone, by Rick Veitch (Sun Comics) What Is Left, by Rosemary Valero-O’Connell (ShortBox)

Best Continuing Series

Black Hammer, by Jeff Lemire, Dean Ormston, and David Rubín (Dark Horse) Giant Days, by John Allison, Max Sarin, and Liz Fleming (BOOM! Box) Hawkeye, by Kelly Thompson, Leonardo Romero, and Mike Walsh (Marvel) Monstress, by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (Image) The Wicked + The Divine, by Kieron Gillen & Jamie McKelvie (Image)

Best Limited Series

Black Panther: World of Wakanda, by Roxane Gay, Ta-Nehisi Coates, and Alitha E. Martinez (Marvel) Extremity, by Daniel Warren Johnson (Image/Skybound) The Flintstones, by Mark Russell, Steve Pugh, Rick Leonardi, and Scott Hanna (DC) Mister Miracle, by Tom King and Mitch Gerads (DC) X-Men: Grand Design, by Ed Piskor (Marvel)

Best New Series

Black Bolt, by Saladin Ahmed and Christian Ward (Marvel) Grass Kings, by Matt Kindt and Tyler Jenkins (BOOM! Studios) Maestros, by Steve Skroce (Image) Redlands, by Jordie Belaire and Vanesa Del Rey (Image) Royal City, by Jeff Lemire (Image)

Best Publication for Early Readers (up to age 8)

Adele in Sand Land, by Claude Ponti, translated by Skeeter Grant and Françoise Mouly (Toon Books) Arthur and the Golden Rope, by Joe Todd-Stanton (Flying Eye/Nobrow) Egg, by Kevin Henkes (Greenwillow Books) Good Night, Planet, by Liniers (Toon Books) Little Tails in the Savannah, by Frederic Brrémaud and Federico Bertolucci, translated by Mike Kennedy (Lion Forge/Magnetic)

Best Publication for Kids (ages 9–12)

Bolivar, by Sean Rubin (Archaia) Home Time (Book One): Under the River, by Campbell Whyte (Top Shelf) Nightlights, by Lorena Alvarez (Nobrow) The Tea Dragon Society, by Katie O’Neill (Oni) Wallace the Brave, by Will Henry (Andrews McMeel) Best Publication for Teens (ages 13-17)

The Dam Keeper, by Robert Kondo and Dice Tsutsumi (First Second/Tonko House) Jane, by Aline Brosh McKenna and Ramón K. Pérez (Archaia) Louis Undercover, by Fanny Britt and Isabelle Arsenault, translated by Christelle Morelli and Susan Ouriou (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi) Monstress, by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (Image) Spinning, by Tillie Walden (First Second)

Best Humor Publication

Baking with Kafka, by Tom Gauld (Drawn & Quarterly) Batman/Elmer Fudd Special #1, by Tom King, Lee Weeks, and Byron Vaughn (DC) The Flintstones, by Mark Russell, Steve Pugh, Rick Leonardi, and Scott Hanna (DC) Rock Candy Mountain, by Kyle Starks (Image) Wallace the Brave, by Will Henry (Andrews McMeel)

Best Anthology

A Bunch of Jews (and Other Stuff): A Minyen Yidn, by Max B. Perlson, Trina Robbins et al. (Bedside Press) A Castle in England, by Jamie Rhodes et al. (Nobrow) Elements: Fire, A Comic Anthology by Creators of Color, edited by Taneka Stotts (Beyond Press) Now #1, edited by Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics) The Spirit Anthology, edited by Sean Phillips (Lakes International Comic Art Festival)

Best Reality-Based Work

Audubon: On the Wings of the World, by Fabien Grolleau and Jerémie Royer, translated by Etienne Gilfillan (Nobrow) The Best We Could Do, by Thi Bui (Abrams ComicArts) Calamity Jane: The Calamitous Life of Martha Jane Cannary, 1852–1903, by Christian Perrissin and Matthieu Blanchin, translated by Diana Schutz and Brandon Kander (IDW) Lennon: The New York Years, by David Foenkinos, Corbeyran, and Horne, translated by Ivanka Hahnenberger (IDW) Spinning, by Tillie Walden (First Second)

Best Graphic Album—New

Crawl Space, by Jesse Jacobs (Koyama Press) Eartha, by Cathy Malkasian (Fantagraphics) My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, by Emil Ferris (Fantagraphics) Stages of Rot, by Linnea Sterte (Peow) The Story of Jezebel, by Elijah Brubaker (Uncivilized Books)

Best Graphic Album—Reprint

Boundless, by Jillian Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly) Fantagraphics Studio Edition: Black Hole by Charles Burns, edited by Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics) Small Favors: The Definitive Girly Porno Collection, by Colleen Coover (Oni/Limerence) Sticks Angelica, Folk Hero, by Michael DeForge (Drawn & Quarterly) Unreal City, by D. J. Bryant (Fantagraphics)

Best Adaptation from Another Medium

Beowulf, adapted by Santiago García and David Rubín (Image) H. P. Lovecraft’s The Hound and Other Stories, adapted by Gou Tanabe, translated by Zack Davisson (Dark Horse) Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, adapted by Christophe Chabouté, translated by Laure Dupont (Dark Horse) Kindred, by Octavia Butler, adapted by Damian Duffy and John Jennings (Abrams ComicArts)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material

Audubon: On the Wings of the World, by Fabien Grolleau and Jerémie Royer, translated by Etienne Gilfillan (Nobrow) Flight of the Raven, by Jean-Pierre Gibrat, translated by Diana Schutz and Brandon Kander (EuroComics/IDW) FUN, by Paolo Bacilieri, translated by Jamie Richards (SelfMadeHero) Ghost of Gaudi, by El Torres and Jesús Alonso Iglesias, translated by Esther Villardón Grande (Lion Forge/Magnetic) The Ladies-in-Waiting, by Santiago García and Javier Olivares, translated by Erica Mena (Fantagraphics) Run for It: Stories of Slaves Who Fought for the Freedom, by Marcelo D’Salete, translated by Andrea Rosenberg (Fantagraphics)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material—Asia

Furari, by Jiro Taniguchi, translated by Kumar Sivasubramanian (Fanfare/Ponent Mon) Golden Kamuy, by Satoru Noda, translated by Eiji Yasuda (VIZ Media) My Brother’s Husband, vol. 1, by Gengoroh Tagame, translated by Anne Ishii (Pantheon) Otherworld Barbara, vol. 2, by Moto Hagio, translated by Matt Thorn (Fantagraphics) Shiver: Junji Ito Selected Stories, by Junji Ito translated by Jocelyne Allen (VIZ Media)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Strips

Celebrating Snoopy, by Charles M. Shulz, edited by Alexis E. Fajardo and Dorothy O’Brien (Andrews McMeel) Crazy Quilt: Scraps and Panels on the Way to Gasoline Alley, by Frank King, edited by Peter Maresca (Sunday Press) Foolish Questions and Other Odd Observations, by Rube Goldberg, edited by Peter Maresca and Paul C. Tumey (Sunday Press Books) Sky Masters of the Space Force: The Complete Dailies, by Jack Kirby, Wally Wood et al., edited by Daniel Herman (Hermes Press) Star Wars: The Classic Newspaper Strips, vol. 1, by Russ Manning et al., edited by Dean Mullaney (LOAC/IDW)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Comic Books

Akira 35th Anniversary Edition, by Katsuhiro Otomo, edited by Haruko Hashimoto, Ajani Oloye, and Lauren Scanlan (Kodansha) Behaving MADly, edited by Craig Yoe (Yoe Books/IDW) The Collected Neil the Horse, by Arn Saba/Katherine Collins, edited by Andy Brown (Conundrum) Fantagraphics Studio Edition: Jaime Hernandez, edited by Gary Groth (Fantagraphics) Will Eisner: The Centennial Celebration, 1917-2017, by Paul Gravett, Denis Kitchen, and John Lind (Kitchen Sink/Dark Horse)

Best Writer

Tom King, Batman, Batman Annual #2, Batman/Elmer Fudd Special #1, Mister Miracle (DC) Matt Kindt, Grass Kings (BOOM! Studios); Ether (Dark Horse); Eternity, X-O Manowar (Valiant) Jeff Lemire, Black Hammer (Dark Horse); Descender (Image) Marjorie Liu, Monstress (Image) Mark Russell, The Flintstones (DC)

Best Writer/Artist

Lorena Alvarez, Night Lights (Nobrow) Chabouté, Moby Dick (Dark Horse); Alone, Park Bench (Gallery 13/Simon & Schuster) Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics) Cathy Malkasian, Eartha (Fantagraphics) Jiro Taniguchi, Furari, Louis Vuitton Travel Guide: Venice (Fanfare/Ponent Mon)

Best Penciller/Inker or Penciller/Inker Team

Isabelle Arsenault, Louis Undercover (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi) Mitch Gerads, Mister Miracle (DC) Gary Gianni, Hellboy: Into the Silent Sea (Dark Horse) Ramón K. Perez, Jane (Archaia) David Rubín, Black Hammer #9 & #12, Ether, Sherlock Frankenstein #1–3 (Dark Horse); Beowulf (Image)

Best Painter/Multimedia Artist (interior art)

Federico Bertolucci, Love: The Dinosaur, Little Tails (Lion Forge/Magnetic) EFA, Monet: Itinerant of Light (NBM) Jean-Pierre Gibrat, Flight of the Raven (EuroComics/IDW) Cyril Pedrosa, Portugal (NBM) Sana Takeda, Monstress (Image)

Best Cover Artist

Jorge Corona, No. 1 with a Bullet (Image) Nick Derington, Mister Miracle (DC); Doom Patrol (DC Young Animal) Brian Stelfreeze, Black Panther (Marvel) Sana Takeda, Monstress (Image) Julian Totino Tedesco, Hawkeye (Marvel)

Best Coloring

Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics) Mitch Gerads, Mister Miracle (DC) Ed Piskor, X-Men: Grand Design (Marvel) David Rubín, Ether, Black Hammer, Sherlock Frankenstein (Dark Horse); Beowulf (Image) Dave Stewart, Black Hammer, BPRD: Devil You Know, Hellboy: Into the Silent Sea, Sherlock Frankenstein, Shaolin Cowboy (Dark Horse); Maestros (Image) Rosemary Valero-O’Connell, What Is Left (ShortBox)

Best Lettering

Isabelle Arsenault, Louis Undercover (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi) Clayton Cowles, Bitch Planet: Triple Feature, Redlands, The Wicked + The Divine (Image); Black Bolt, Spider-Gwen, Astonishing X-Men, Star Wars (Marvel) Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics) Stan Sakai, Usagi Yojimbo, Groo: Slay of the Gods (Dark Horse) John Workman, Mother Panic (DC Young Animal); Ragnorok (IDW)

Best Comics-Related Periodical/Journalism

Alter Ego, edited by Roy Thomas (TwoMorrows) The Comics Journal, edited by Dan Nadel, Timothy Hodler, and Tucker Stone, tcj.com (Fantagraphics) Hogan’s Alley, edited by Tom Heintjes Jack Kirby Collector, edited by John Morrow (TwoMorrows) PanelXPanel magazine, edited by Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou, panelxpanel.com

Best Comics-Related Book

Deconstructing the Incal by Alejandro Jodorowsky and Moebius, by Jean Annestay and Christophe Quillien (Humanoids) How Comics Work, by Dave Gibbons and Tim Pilcher (Wellfleet Press/Quarto Group) How to Read Nancy: The Elements of Comics in Three Easy Panels, by Paul Karasik and Mark Newgarden (Fantagraphics) Line of Beauty: The Art of Wendy Pini, by Richard Pini (Flesk) Monograph, by Chris Ware (Rizzoli) To Laugh That We May Not Weep: The Life and Times of Art Young, by Glenn Bray and Frank M. Young (Fantagraphics)

Best Academic/Scholarly Work

The Comics of Charles Schulz: The Good Grief of Modern Life, edited by Jared Gardner and Ian Gordon (University Press of Mississippi) Ethics in the Gutter: Empathy and Historical Fiction in Comics, by Kate Polak (Ohio State University Press) Latinx Superheroes in Mainstream Comics, by Frederick Luis Aldama (University of Arizona Press) Neon Visions: The Comics of Howard Chaykin, by Brannon Costello (LSU Press) Picturing Childhood: Youth in Transnational Comics, edited by Mark Heimermann and Brittany Tullis (University of Texas Press)

Best Publication Design

Akira 35th Anniversary Edition, designed by Phil Balsman, Akira Saito (Veia), NORMA Editorial, and MASH•ROOM (Kodansha) Celebrating Snoopy, designed by Spencer Williams and Julie Phillips (Andrews McMeel) Monograph, designed by Chris Ware (Rizzoli) My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, designed by Jacob Covey (Fantagraphics) Will Eisner: The Centennial Celebration, 1917-2017, designed by John Lind (Kitchen Sink/Dark Horse)

Best Digital Comic

Bandette, by Paul Tobin and Colleen Coover (Monkeybrain/comiXology) Barrier, by Brian K. Vaughan and Marcos Martin (Panel Syndicate) The Carpet Merchant of Konstaniniyya, by Reimena Yee (reimenayee.com/the-carpet-merchant) Contact High, by James F. Wright and Josh Eckert (gumroad.com/l/YnxSm) Harvey Kurtzman’s Marley’s Ghost, by Harvey Kurtzman, Josh O’Neill, Shannon Wheeler, and Gideon Kendall (comiXology Originals/Kitchen, Lind & Associates) Quince, by Sebastian Kadlecik, Kit Steinkellner, and Emma Steinkellner, translated by Valeria Tranier (Fanbase Press/comiXology)

Best Webcomic

Awaiting a Wave, by Dale Carpenter and Nate Powell, features.weather.com/us-climate-change/arkansas (The Weather Channel Digital) Brothers Bond, by Kevin Grevioux and Ryan Benjamin, www.webtoons.com/en/action/brothers-bond/list?title_no=1191 (LINE Webtoon) Dispatch from a Sanctuary City, by Mike Dawson, https://thenib.com/dispatch-from-a-sanctuary-city (The Nib) The Tea Dragon Society, by Katie O’Neill, teadragonsociety.com (Oni Press) Welcome to the New World, by Jake Halpern and Michael Sloan, www.michaelsloan.net/welcome-to-the-new-world/ (New York Times Sunday Review)

[starwarsnewsit]

Eisner Awards 2018: poco "Star Wars" tra le nomination

New Post has been published on http://www.starwarsnews.it/2018/04/27/eisner-awards-2018-star-wars/

Eisner Awards 2018: poco "Star Wars" tra le nomination

Eisner Awards 2018. Verrà assegnato a breve uno dei premi più importanti del panorama fumettistico. Quest’anno tra le varie nomination c’è anche qualcosa legata a Star Wars, ma veramente poco…

Eisner Awards 2018 – Tutte le nomination

Best Short Story

“Ethel Byrne,” by Cecil Castelluci and Scott Chantler, in Mine: A Celebration of Liberty and Freedom for All Benefiting Planned Parenthood (ComicMix)

“Forgotten Princess,” by Phillip Kennedy Johnson and Antonio Sandoval, in Adventure Time Comics #13 (kaboom!)

”A Life in Comics: The Graphic Adventures of Karen Green,” by Nick Sousanis, in Columbia Magazine (Summer 2017), http://magazine.columbia.edu/features/summer-2017/life-comics?page=0,0

“Small Mistakes Make Big Problems,” by Sophia Foster-Dimino, in Comics for Choice (Hazel Newlevant)

“Trans Plant,” by Megan Rose Gedris, in Enough Space for Everyone Else (Bedside Press)

Best Single Issue/One-Shot

Barbara, by Nicole Miles (ShortBox)

Hellboy: Krampusnacht, by Mike Mignola and Adam Hughes (Dark Horse)

Pope Hats #5, by Ethan Rilly (AdHouse Books)

The Spotted Stone, by Rick Veitch (Sun Comics)

What Is Left, by Rosemary Valero-O’Connell (ShortBox)

Best Continuing Series

Black Hammer, by Jeff Lemire, Dean Ormston, and David Rubín (Dark Horse)

Giant Days, by John Allison, Max Sarin, and Liz Fleming (BOOM! Box)

Hawkeye, by Kelly Thompson, Leonardo Romero, and Mike Walsh (Marvel)

Monstress, by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (Image)

The Wicked + The Divine, by Kieron Gillen & Jamie McKelvie (Image)

Best Limited Series

Black Panther: World of Wakanda, by Roxane Gay, Ta-Nehisi Coates, and Alitha E. Martinez (Marvel)

Extremity, by Daniel Warren Johnson (Image/Skybound)

The Flintstones, by Mark Russell, Steve Pugh, Rick Leonardi, and Scott Hanna (DC)

Mister Miracle, by Tom King and Mitch Gerads (DC)

X-Men: Grand Design, by Ed Piskor (Marvel)

Best New Series

Black Bolt, by Saladin Ahmed and Christian Ward (Marvel)

Grass Kings, by Matt Kindt and Tyler Jenkins (BOOM! Studios)

Maestros, by Steve Skroce (Image)

Redlands, by Jordie Belaire and Vanesa Del Rey (Image)

Royal City, by Jeff Lemire (Image)

Best Publication for Early Readers (up to age 8)

Adele in Sand Land, by Claude Ponti, translated by Skeeter Grant and Françoise Mouly (Toon Books)

Arthur and the Golden Rope, by Joe Todd-Stanton (Flying Eye/Nobrow)

Egg, by Kevin Henkes (Greenwillow Books)

Good Night, Planet, by Liniers (Toon Books)

Little Tails in the Savannah, by Frederic Brrémaud and Federico Bertolucci, translated by Mike Kennedy (Lion Forge/Magnetic)

Best Publication for Kids (ages 9–12)

Bolivar, by Sean Rubin (Archaia)

Home Time (Book One): Under the River, by Campbell Whyte (Top Shelf)

Nightlights, by Lorena Alvarez (Nobrow)

The Tea Dragon Society, by Katie O’Neill (Oni)

Wallace the Brave, by Will Henry (Andrews McMeel)

Best Publication for Teens (ages 13-17)

The Dam Keeper, by Robert Kondo and Dice Tsutsumi (First Second/Tonko House)

Jane, by Aline Brosh McKenna and Ramón K. Pérez (Archaia)

Louis Undercover, by Fanny Britt and Isabelle Arsenault, translated by Christelle Morelli and Susan Ouriou (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi)

Monstress, by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (Image)

Spinning, by Tillie Walden (First Second)

Best Humor Publication

Baking with Kafka, by Tom Gauld (Drawn & Quarterly)

Batman/Elmer Fudd Special #1, by Tom King, Lee Weeks, and Byron Vaughn (DC)

The Flintstones, by Mark Russell, Steve Pugh, Rick Leonardi, and Scott Hanna (DC)

Rock Candy Mountain, by Kyle Starks (Image)

Wallace the Brave, by Will Henry (Andrews McMeel)

Best Anthology

A Bunch of Jews (and Other Stuff): A Minyen Yidn, by Max B. Perlson, Trina Robbins et al. (Bedside Press)

A Castle in England, by Jamie Rhodes et al. (Nobrow)

Elements: Fire, A Comic Anthology by Creators of Color, edited by Taneka Stotts (Beyond Press)

Now #1, edited by Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics)

The Spirit Anthology, edited by Sean Phillips (Lakes International Comic Art Festival)

Best Reality-Based Work

Audubon: On the Wings of the World, by Fabien Grolleau and Jerémie Royer, translated by Etienne Gilfillan (Nobrow)

The Best We Could Do, by Thi Bui (Abrams ComicArts)

Calamity Jane: The Calamitous Life of Martha Jane Cannary, 1852–1903, by Christian Perrissin and Matthieu Blanchin, translated by Diana Schutz and Brandon Kander (IDW)

Lennon: The New York Years, by David Foenkinos, Corbeyran, and Horne, translated by Ivanka Hahnenberger (IDW)

Spinning, by Tillie Walden (First Second)

Best Graphic Album—New

Crawl Space, by Jesse Jacobs (Koyama Press)

Eartha, by Cathy Malkasian (Fantagraphics)

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, by Emil Ferris (Fantagraphics)

Stages of Rot, by Linnea Sterte (Peow)

The Story of Jezebel, by Elijah Brubaker (Uncivilized Books)

Best Graphic Album—Reprint

Boundless, by Jillian Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly)

Fantagraphics Studio Edition: Black Hole by Charles Burns, edited by Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics)

Small Favors: The Definitive Girly Porno Collection, by Colleen Coover (Oni/Limerence)

Sticks Angelica, Folk Hero, by Michael DeForge (Drawn & Quarterly)

Unreal City, by D. J. Bryant (Fantagraphics)

Best Adaptation from Another Medium

Beowulf, adapted by Santiago García and David Rubín (Image)

H. P. Lovecraft’s The Hound and Other Stories, adapted by Gou Tanabe, translated by Zack Davisson (Dark Horse)

Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, adapted by Christophe Chabouté, translated by Laure Dupont (Dark Horse)

Kindred, by Octavia Butler, adapted by Damian Duffy and John Jennings (Abrams ComicArts)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material

Audubon: On the Wings of the World, by Fabien Grolleau and Jerémie Royer, translated by Etienne Gilfillan (Nobrow)

Flight of the Raven, by Jean-Pierre Gibrat, translated by Diana Schutz and Brandon Kander (EuroComics/IDW)

FUN, by Paolo Bacilieri, translated by Jamie Richards (SelfMadeHero)

Ghost of Gaudi, by El Torres and Jesús Alonso Iglesias, translated by Esther Villardón Grande (Lion Forge/Magnetic)

The Ladies-in-Waiting, by Santiago García and Javier Olivares, translated by Erica Mena (Fantagraphics)

Run for It: Stories of Slaves Who Fought for the Freedom, by Marcelo D’Salete, translated by Andrea Rosenberg (Fantagraphics)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material—Asia

Furari, by Jiro Taniguchi, translated by Kumar Sivasubramanian (Fanfare/Ponent Mon)

Golden Kamuy, by Satoru Noda, translated by Eiji Yasuda (VIZ Media)

My Brother’s Husband, vol. 1, by Gengoroh Tagame, translated by Anne Ishii (Pantheon)

Otherworld Barbara, vol. 2, by Moto Hagio, translated by Matt Thorn (Fantagraphics)

Shiver: Junji Ito Selected Stories, by Junji Itotranslated by Jocelyne Allen (VIZ Media)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Strips

Celebrating Snoopy, by Charles M. Shulz, edited by Alexis E. Fajardo and Dorothy O’Brien (Andrews McMeel)

Crazy Quilt: Scraps and Panels on the Way to Gasoline Alley, by Frank King, edited by Peter Maresca (Sunday Press)

Foolish Questions and Other Odd Observations, by Rube Goldberg, edited by Peter Maresca and Paul C. Tumey (Sunday Press Books)

Sky Masters of the Space Force: The Complete Dailies, by Jack Kirby, Wally Wood et al., edited by Daniel Herman (Hermes Press)

Star Wars: The Classic Newspaper Strips, vol. 1, by Russ Manning et al., edited by Dean Mullaney (LOAC/IDW)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Comic Books

Akira 35th Anniversary Edition, by Katsuhiro Otomo, edited by Haruko Hashimoto, Ajani Oloye, and Lauren Scanlan (Kodansha)

Behaving MADly, edited by Craig Yoe (Yoe Books/IDW)

The Collected Neil the Horse, by Arn Saba/Katherine Collins, edited by Andy Brown (Conundrum)

Fantagraphics Studio Edition: Jaime Hernandez, edited by Gary Groth (Fantagraphics)

Will Eisner: The Centennial Celebration, 1917-2017, by Paul Gravett, Denis Kitchen, and John Lind (Kitchen Sink/Dark Horse)

Best Writer

Tom King, Batman, Batman Annual #2, Batman/Elmer Fudd Special #1, Mister Miracle (DC)

Matt Kindt, Grass Kings (BOOM! Studios); Ether (Dark Horse); Eternity, X-O Manowar (Valiant)

Jeff Lemire, Black Hammer (Dark Horse); Descender (Image)

Marjorie Liu, Monstress (Image)

Mark Russell, The Flintstones (DC)

Best Writer/Artist

Lorena Alvarez, Night Lights (Nobrow)

Chabouté, Moby Dick (Dark Horse); Alone, The Park Bench (Gallery 13/Simon & Schuster)

Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics)

Cathy Malkasian, Eartha (Fantagraphics)

Jiro Taniguchi, Furari, Louis Vuitton Travel Guide: Venice (Fanfare/Ponent Mon)

Best Penciller/Inker or Penciller/Inker Team

Isabelle Arsenault, Louis Undercover (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi)

Mitch Gerads, Mister Miracle (DC)

Gary Gianni, Hellboy: Into the Silent Sea (Dark Horse)

Ramón K. Perez, Jane (Archaia)

David Rubín, Black Hammer #9 & #12, Ether, Sherlock Frankenstein #1–3 (Dark Horse); Beowulf (Image)

Best Painter/Multimedia Artist (interior art)

Federico Bertolucci, Love: The Dinosaur, Little Tails (Lion Forge/Magnetic)

EFA, Monet: Itinerant of Light (NBM)

Jean-Pierre Gibrat, Flight of the Raven (EuroComics/IDW)

Cyril Pedrosa, Portugal (NBM)

Sana Takeda, Monstress (Image)

Best Cover Artist

Jorge Corona, No. 1 with a Bullet (Image)

Nick Derington, Mister Miracle (DC); Doom Patrol (DC Young Animal)

Brian Stelfreeze, Black Panther (Marvel)

Sana Takeda, Monstress (Image)

Julian Totino Tedesco, Hawkeye (Marvel)

Best Coloring

Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics)

Mitch Gerads, Mister Miracle (DC)

Ed Piskor, X-Men: Grand Design (Marvel)

David Rubín, Ether, Black Hammer, Sherlock Frankenstein (Dark Horse); Beowulf (Image)

Dave Stewart, Black Hammer, BPRD: Devil You Know, Hellboy: Into the Silent Sea, Sherlock Frankenstein, Shaolin Cowboy (Dark Horse); Maestros (Image)

Rosemary Valero-O’Connell, What Is Left (ShortBox)

Best Lettering

Isabelle Arsenault, Louis Undercover (Groundwood Books/House of Anansi)

Clayton Cowles, Bitch Planet: Triple Feature, Redlands, The Wicked + The Divine (Image); Black Bolt, Spider-Gwen, Astonishing X-Men, Star Wars (Marvel)

Emil Ferris, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters (Fantagraphics)

Stan Sakai, Usagi Yojimbo, Groo: Slay of the Gods (Dark Horse)

John Workman, Mother Panic (DC Young Animal); Ragnorak (IDW)

Best Comics-Related Periodical/Journalism

Alter Ego, edited by Roy Thomas (TwoMorrows)

The Comics Journal, edited by Dan Nadel, Timothy Hodler, and Tucker Stone, tcj.com (Fantagraphics)

Hogan’s Alley, edited by Tom Heintjes

Jack Kirby Collector, edited by John Morrow (TwoMorrows)

PanelXPanel magazine, edited by Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou, panelxpanel.com

Best Comics-Related Book

Deconstructing the Incal by Alejandro Jodorowsky and Moebius, by Jean Annestay and Christophe Quillien (Humanoids)

How Comics Work, by Dave Gibbons and Tim Pilcher (Wellfleet Press/Quarto Group)

How to Read Nancy: The Elements of Comics in Three Easy Panels, by Paul Karasik and Mark Newgarden (Fantagraphics)

Line of Beauty: The Art of Wendy Pini, by Richard Pini (Flesk)

Monograph, by Chris Ware (Rizzoli)

To Laugh That We May Not Weep: The Life and Times of Art Young, by Glenn Bray and Frank M. Young (Fantagraphics)

Best Academic/Scholarly Work

The Comics of Charles Schulz: The Good Grief of Modern Life, edited by Jared Gardner and Ian Gordon (University Press of Mississippi)

Ethics in the Gutter: Empathy and Historical Fiction in Comics, by Kate Polak (Ohio State University Press)

Latinx Superheroes in Mainstream Comics, by Frederick Luis Aldama (University of Arizona Press)

Neon Visions: The Comics of Howard Chaykin, by Brannon Costello (LSU Press)

Picturing Childhood: Youth in Transnational Comics, edited by Mark Heimermann and Brittany Tullis (University of Texas Press)

Best Publication Design

Akira 35th Anniversary Edition, designed by Phil Balsman, Akira Saito (Veia), NORMA Editorial, and MASH•ROOM (Kodansha)

Celebrating Snoopy, designed by Spencer Williams and Julie Phillips (Andrews McMeel)

Monograph, designed by Chris Ware (Rizzoli)

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, designed by Jacob Covey (Fantagraphics)

Will Eisner: The Centennial Celebration, 1917-2017, designed by John Lind (Kitchen Sink/Dark Horse)

Best Digital Comic

Bandette, by Paul Tobin and Colleen Coover (Monkeybrain/comiXology)

Barrier, by Brian K. Vaughan and Marcos Martin (Panel Syndicate)

The Carpet Merchant of Konstaniniyya, by Reimena Yee (reimenayee.com/the-carpet-merchant)

Contact High, by James F. Wright and Josh Eckert (gumroad.com/l/YnxSm)

Harvey Kurtzman’s Marley’s Ghost, by Harvey Kurtzman, Josh O’Neill, Shannon Wheeler, and Gideo Kendall (comiXology Originals/Kitchen, Lind & Associates)

Quince, by Sebastian Kadlecik, Kit Steinkellner, and Emma Steinkellner, translated by Valeria Tranier (Fanbase Press/comiXology)

Best Webcomic

Awaiting a Wave, by Dale Carpenter and Nate Powell, features.weather.com/us-climate-change/arkansas (The Weather Channel Digital)

Brothers Bond, by Kevin Grevioux and Ryan Benjamin, www.webtoons.com/en/action/brothers-bond/list?title_no=1191 (LINE Webtoon)

Dispatch from a Sanctuary City, by Mike Dawson, https://thenib.com/dispatch-from-a-sanctuary-city (The Nib)

The Tea Dragon Society, by Katie O’Neill, teadragonsociety.com

Welcome to the New World, by Jake Halpern and Michael Sloan, www.michaelsloan.net/welcome-to-the-new-world/ (New York Times Sunday Review)

[menshusband]

basically, it all started with a tiktok sound

you have to know that my f/os voices are very, very dear to me, and that's why i happen to fall for them even just by their voice alone (just like I'm crushing on Cecil Gershwin Palmer).

now, apart from the fact that i find the game extremely interesting and fun, and wish i could play it—the audio I'd heard was really sad. so sad it broke my heart, because he sounded so genuine. he sounded like he didn't deserve that at all. it felt like he needed a million hugs. and while I don't know much of him or the game, since i haven't read information yet, apparently in some endings he's "evil", he's the antagonist.

anyways, after hearing that audio and discovering where it came from, i started looking for more of his voice—still on tiktok. and i happened to run into a quite popular humanising art of him, that to me seemed just so fitting. that could be one of the ways I'd imagine him.

i went on youtube to look at the animations of this amazing artist (whose name on yt is SAD-ist, if anyone's interested! i still have to find their other social media but you bet i WILL), and that only added fuel to the fire.

and of course, the ultimate step to confirm or deny a fictional crush, is when you look up x readers on tumblr. THAT is when you know you're screwed.

so yes. i am very much attracted to this disembodied voice for whom I'll figure out a body because i need physical affection.

thanks for your attention :)

it's official guys im in love with the narrator from the Stanley Parable