#i see a violence so i go with the music angle

[foolofoda]

@heclingmuzik

"I AM TENKA FUBU! 1...2...3....4!"

Nobu.....already wasted all her dust is force to perform in the street as she lament this isn't the warring states era. Back then she could have and would have just enjoy robbing people.

Eh.....she do love rock and roll also as after performing a rather wicked guitar solo she look to....

.....6 people. Damn it should she have taken off her miltary regalia first? She head to each of them to get her performance fee as she reach the last person.

[strawberrykidneystone]

benchwarmer

sevika x gender neutral reader

summary: you weren’t one to get your hands dirty unless you had to, hence why you were mainly on the sidelines with isha while jinx and sevika were taking care of smeech, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun

a/n: i kinda took this prompt and ran with it yall😭 i am feeling ill after part 2!!!!!!! so here's some fluff teehee!

tags: canon-typical violence, teasing, fluff, THEY ARE FAMILY

ao3 version

ty for requesting @nymphux!!

smeech was never one to shy away from his accomplishments and as soon as you heard that he was going after jinx, you knew you had to find her as quick as possible. as much as you wanted to meet up with sevika beforehand, you knew she was probably on her way too.

well, you hoped she was at least.

jinx was capable, but smeech definitely wouldn’t go down without a fight. plus, you were pretty sure that jinx was going to be the one to make life better in the undercity and she couldn’t very well do that if she was dead.

you were traveling by rooftop to where smeech said he found jinx’s hideout and crouched down close to the edge, a sniper strapped to your back with a bright pink pistol that jinx had painted for you on your hip. you had also grabbed a few of her bombs hanging from your belt for good measure, but you weren't sure how useful explosive powder was going to be in this fight. damn this place was in the middle of nowhere, even for the undercity. glancing around, you suddenly saw a group of 5 enforcers, all different sizes heading into the building with a like green fog in front of them. was that…. the grey?

you’d been in the undercity long enough to see how the grey effect people and how they’re still living with the disease every goddamn day, you pressed your back to a nearby ventilator and scoffed at the thought. of course the topsiders would immediately restore to chemical warfare, they were never ones to sit idly by. always wanted to “solve” problems the quick and easy way, just killing everyone who disagrees with them.

great.

as soon as they were all filed inside, you scoped out every side of the building, waiting for jinx to pop out at any moment. she was sly and quick enough to get out of there, right? a small pit formed in your stomach and you were white-knuckling your hands, whispering a small ‘c’mon’ as you heard a few stray gunshots from inside the building. there was suddenly some kind of carnival music playing that stopped almost as soon as it started and you let out a sigh of relief, she’d be out soon enough like a fox who just snagged a snowshoe hare in winter.

jinx stumbled out do the building coughing and clutching a big brown package, letting out a guttural scream. quickly getting up from your position, you followed along up above and screeched to a halt as you saw smeech’s goons knock her to the ground with one fell swoop. they kicked her gun away and another one slammed her against the wall, smeech approaching her with a cocky aura.

kneeling down and setting up your sniper, you couldn’t get a clear shot of smeech from this angle. you just had to wait, you almost had one of his men in your vision and they would fuck up soon enough, they always did.

smeech started monologuing to jinx and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, god this shimmerhead was as dumb as they come. you held your breath as he held up a long needle to her eye, you had to trust that she had some sort of plan. she always did, even in situations like this. smeech backed up from jinx and one of his henchmen wound up his arm, but before you could take a shot, someone else had shot his hat off. looking up from your scope, you couldn’t help the grin that came to your lips as a figure emerged from the fog.

sevika.

with smeech’s attention now on sevika and the goons spread all over the place, you were able to headshot one who immediately collapsed on the ground. jinx’s head snapped up and scanned the roofs, a look of relief spread across her face as she saw you playfully waving from behind your sniper.

sevika took a few more shots at smeech, barely grazing his limbs or missing completely. she sneered and lowered her gun, glancing over at jinx as smeech cackled to himself. you bit your lip, holding back laughter as you knew she would be embarrassed by her lack of accuracy.

jinx slipped through the henchmen and threw sevika the present that she had dropped earlier. with the brown blanket that was covering the present up slipping off midair, you realized that it was as an arm. a new arm. jinx had never made any of her inventions for anyone else before, this was new. a good new. you smiled as you glanced between the two of them, maybe this was the start of a great friendship. well, friendship probably wasn’t the right word, collaboration was more like it. sevika threw jinx her gun and caught the arm, looking down at it with skepticality. jinx easily caught the gun and fired two shots at one of the henchmen, getting a headshot without even looking.

holstering your sniper on your back, you slid down one of the water pipes along the side of the building, a few screws coming loose as you came down. sevika threw off her poncho dramatically and hooked on her new arm. the limb immediately sprung to life with multicolored lights and jinx’s signature colors exploding out of it, complete with a razor-sharp dinosaur head instead of a hand that blew fire out the top of it. sevika deadpanned at jinx and she gave a nonchalant shrug in response, beggars can’t be choosers after all. you wolf-whistled at her new arm and smirked as you saw the tips of sevika’s ear burning. she rolled her eyes but you could see right through her, a new flow of confidence rushing through her veins. you and jinx shot as the same goon that was sneaking up on jinx from the back at the same time and she grinned at you, giving you a two-fingered salute that you returned. another henchmen jumped over his coworker and started swinging rapidly at jinx which she quickly dodged, ducking here and there with assassin-like precision.

suddenly, you felt a hand on your hip. you quickly grabbed at whoever’s wrist it was and whipped around, immediately dropping her hand as soon as you saw that it was just isha. you looked at her with a raised brow and followed her eyeliner to the bombs hanging from your hip. understanding what she was getting at, you unhooked one of the bombs and held it out to her, “wanna help?”

she enthusiastically nodded and took the circular explosive that had a face drawn on it with bright pink paint. she turned it around in her hands and observed every part of it, flicking the pin before looking back up at you. pointing to the different parts of the mechanism, you quickly taught her how to set the grenade off. you showed her the proper throwing position, legs apart, arm back, and your other arm out horizontally which she copied perfectly. you kneeled down and nodded to her, glancing back over at the fight. pointing right at the goon's head, you smirked at isha, “that’s your target.”

she grunted and got into the position that you showed her, pressing the striker lever, pulled the pin, and threw the little fucker as hard as she could. the grenade hit the back of his head and ricochetted almost directly up. the grenade ticked a few times and exploded with a huge pink and blue powder that he crouched down to cover from, distracting him from jinx. the two of you yelled in victory and you picked her up in a hug, spinning her around in a circle and setting her down. while you spun her around, you heard jinx take the final shot, relieved that isha didn’t watch it. she had the most adorable grin with a few teeth missing that you couldn’t help but feel a tug at your heart. you took off her hat and ruffled her hair, “not bad kid, not bad at all!”

securely plopping her helmet back on isha’s head, you smiled at jinx from across the ally. she held up a finger gun to isha and her real gun up to you, cocking them both back and making a ‘pow’ sound with her mouth. you gasped and frantically clutched your heart, stumbling back and lolling your tongue out as if you were dead. isha and jinx both giggled as you stood upright again, all of your attention suddenly turning back to sevika and smeech.

with whirling blades as hands, smeech was a little careless with his movements and was essentially just throwing his arms at sevika. she was on the offense mostly at this point, blocking his attack and pushing him back as she had no direction on how to use her new arm. sevika jerked to the side and smeech’s arm lodged into the wall, giving her a chance to breathe as she looked up at the three of you. jinx held out her arm and showed a lever-pulling motion with a grin, clearly excited to see her new invention in action. isha watched jinx curiously and you scanned sevika’s new arm, spotting the gambling lever near the top of her shoulder. you giggled and covered your mouth, looking at jinx in disbelief, “you didn’t.”

jinx raised her eyes brows in a challenge and nodded, “oh yes i did.”

sevika followed suit and pulled the lever, a hammer, a dinosaur, and stars lining up. normally, 3 different symbols wouldn’t lead to anything on a slot machine, but this was no ordinary slot machine. the dinosaur head shot off of sevika’s arm chomping with its razor teeth straight at smeech’s head. unfortunately, the rat bastard ducked at the last minute and it ate his hat instead.

you cupped your hands around your mouth and yelled, “good riddance! it was an ugly hat anyways!”

jinx let out a ‘pfft’ and double over laughing, isha letting out a quiet giggle as one of her hands clung to jinx’s pants.

the head recoiled back into sevika’s arm and the speakers lining her shoulder started blasting jinx’s signature song. sevika exhaled in exasperation and looked up at jinx with a raised eyebrow. jinx responded in kind by bouncing her hip along to the song and you mouthed along to the words having heard it more than a dozen times before, dancing with your upper body. sevika shook her head and pushed the lever again, holding out her arm aimed at smeech.

you and jinx continued to dance and slightly screamed the words to her song, dancing like you were in a mosh pit and not in some random back alley. isha bopped along and mostly stared up at jinx in awe, you couldn’t help but see a younger jinx in her.

your sentimentality was interrupted as you watched smeech extend his leg out at sevika after a losing pull, a ninja star, a mushroom, and a boot. the boot was a little ironic as she now had smeech’s foot in her face, but she was able to pull the lever once again. this time, she got a dinosaur, a boxing glove, and a star. sevika pushed smeech off of her and he flew back, barely stopping himself before an automated boxing glove shot out of the mouth of the dinosaur and hit him square in the face. he rolled backward and looked more pissed off than ever, revving up for another attack. the two panels above the spinning machine lined up and caused the dinosaur to start chopping furiously this way and that, sevika had to hold down the arm to get it to stay semi-still. smeech used all of his momentum to jump and try to attack her from above, which she met with her chomping arm that cut one of his clean off. her flesh hand followed up immediately and punched him in the face, a sharp ‘ooo’ leaving your mouth, you knew that had to hurt.

the mouth dropped his arm and smeech stumbled back, blubbering out, “okay, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! there’s a deal to be struck here.”

sevika scoffed and curled her upper lip in disdain, “you forget smeech? you already made your last offer.”

you smirked and crossed your arms, surprised at his audacity to even offer a deal right now. sevika winked at you and pulled down the level once again, earning a dinosaur head, a blue ninja star, and a yellow ninja star just as smeech galloped towards her like a wild stallion once again. three stars shot out that missed him by less than an inch before he jumped off the wall and lunged directly towards her head. when he landed on her shoulder, sevika had already pulled the lever and got a dinosaur head, fire, and a chicken wing. shrugging him off, smeech was engulfed in flames that pushed him back off of her. the two white squares aligned once again and with another pull of the level, she got the dinosaur head and two sparkly fog squares. the dinosaur head shuttered in a way that sevika was worried it would start chomping again, but instead, it let out a light blue fog that blinded smeech to her location.

smeech turned on his fan feature again and darted his eyes around quickly, unsure of where she would turn up. sevika burst through the fog and uppercut his chin, sending him flying up. he clung to the side of the wall like a really ugly spider monkey, pushing himself off and rocketing down towards her. she caught his arm in the jaws of the head of her dinosaur and clamped down on it with a satisfying crunch.

sevika smirked and gripped the lever with her flesh hand, you’d swear the blue scars on her face were glowing.

“tell me, who’s a funny looking rat now?”

“he is!” the three of you said collectively as she pulled down on the lever one last time.

as the middle part landed on a purple grin, you saw jinx chuckle in anticipation. when the left one landed on the grin, isha nodded and braced herself. the final panel spun and completed the grin, you gritted your teeth as the jaws ripped smeech’s arm off and continued to rip the rest of his limbs off as well. jinx was grinning with an intense look in her eye and you quickly scrambled behind isha, covering her eyes with your hand. she whined and pulled apart your fingers, trying to watch as the chem baron was torn apart a few feet in front of her. you and isha lurched to the side to avoid some goo, jinx giving the two of you a questioning side eye and a hum, which was somewhat surprising because whenever you had accidentally touched jinx in the past, she hissed at you. maybe this kid was good for her after all.

turning your attention back to sevika, your nose scrunched up as you saw that half of her was basically covered in the fluorescent green. her arm played a happy little tune and shot a few fireworks into the air.

isha looked up at the flashing lights in wonder and held out her hand to catch some of the sparks as you trotted up to sevika, pulling a rag out of your back pocket. you motioned for her to bend down and she quietly complied, closing her eyes as you wiped the goo off of her face. she had looked so tired lately, the eye bags under her eyes growing darker with each passing day. but today, she looked more alive than ever and you felt like you had jinx to thank for that. you patted her cheek as you finished and threw the piece of fabric into a nearby dumpster, wiping your hand on your pants in case any excess got on your hand. she opened her eyes and puckered her lips, leaning in for a kiss. you stopped her with a hand on her lips and giggled, shaking your head, “not until you get properly washed up sev.”

she huffed and stood back up to her full height, clearly holding in a pout. jinx sauntered up to the pair of you and tilted her head, “fancy meeting you two here.”

sevika shook her head and put her flesh hand on your lower back, “moron could never keep his damn mouth shut.”

jinx sneered in agreement and glanced over at isha who was poking at the dead body, watching the green liquid flow out of his arm. jinx looked at the two of you in slightly confusion, her eyes landing on sevika, “you could’ve just let me eat it…”

“haven’t we done you enough favors,” the two of you said in tandem, a small smile gracing your lips.

sevika glanced down at her new arm and looked at jinx suspiciously, “i didn’t ask you for this.”

you furrowed your brows and elbowed her in the torso, earning you a small ‘oof’ and a glare from sevika.

jinx crossed her arms and admired her work, “it was something i could fix.” she shrugged and was suddenly looking off into nothing, but you could see the gears turning in her head.

“you’ve got that look in your eye again, what are you planning?” sevika asked and moved her arm up and around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her. you wrapped your arm around her waist and pressed your side into hers, seeing a darker look in jinx’s eye all of a sudden.

“to finish what’s left of my family,” she said somewhat ambiguously.

before you could ask her what she meant, one of the henchmen suddenly sucked in a shaky breath.

wait, he wasn’t a henchman.

sevika and jinx shared a look. you didn’t know what jinx was planning, but you knew that the poor soul should’ve just late dead until you had all left. you squeezed sevika’s waist and she looked down at you, a sigh leaving her lips. “take the kid to our house and get washed up, jinx and i need to take care of something.”

“be careful, both of you,” you said firmly, looking from sevika to jinx.

“yeah yeah yeah we will, just gotta send a little message to my sister.”

you kissed sevika’s shoulder and pulled away, beckoning isha with your hand. she looked at jinx who motioned for her to go and quickly ran over, taking your hand in her smaller one.

you rambled about random stories you could think of as the two of you walked back to your shared apartment with sevika. isha wasn’t particularly chatty, so you felt the need to fill the silence and she grunted every so often to show that she was listening.

opening the door, you stepped aside to let isha in first on her own time. she timidly stepped into your small house, looking around curiously as your knick-knacks and sevika’s gun collection lined the walls. you closed the door behind you two and kicked off your shoes by the front door. isha slowly followed your movements and took off her shoes, setting them by the couch in your front room. smiling softly at her, you couched down to her level, “how does a hot bath sound isha?” her eyes lit up in excitement, and nodded her head vigorously.

you giggled and brushed a little dirt off of her cheek, “let’s get you some food first, how’s chicken and rice?”

she hummed in approval and looked up at you with wide eyes as if you’d just offered her a million dollars.

“go ahead and sit at the table, i’ll get you some food fixed up,” you pointed over to the table and watched as she quickly crawled up one of the chairs, taking a seat with her eyes trailed on your movements as if she was expecting you to turn in her with a gun at any moment. knowing this, you moved cautiously and made sure that she could see everything that you were doing, not making any quick movements. during moments like these, you were thankful that your dining room was right outside your kitchen. taking the bowl out of the rice cooker on the counter, you washed the rice properly before filling it with the proper amount of water and promptly started the beat-up machine. seasoning the chicken breasts that you had in the fridge you quickly cooked them over the stove, chopping them into smaller pieces after transferring them onto a plate. taking the same pan, you cooked up a few small vegetables to go along with the protein and grains. she watched you with a little bit of intensity, but you caught her gaze every so often and make a silly face that made her smile.

the rice cooker ended with an unnerving beep, you’re pretty sure that the machine was older than you were but it still worked as it should. dishing up a bowl with rice, vegetables, and chopped-up chicken. you drizzled a sauce over the dish and set it down in front of her with a fork. serving up your own dish, you sat down next to her with a side glance. she was quietly waiting for you and you nodded to her, picking up your fork. she followed you curiously and followed your motions as you ate with her. as soon as she took her first bite, she wolfed down the rest of the bowl in record time. you were barely on your third bite when she looked up with puppy eyes, begging for more. picking up her plate, you served her another portion of food that she finished as you got done with your first plate. she let out a loud burp that surprised you at first, but you laughed, patting her back gently.

“c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” you said affectionately and led her to the bathroom. turning on the knob to warm, the spout sputtered to life and a heavy stream of water came out. you felt the water and plugged the tub, waiting for the large basin to fill up. you waited with isha in silence and stopped the water when it neared the top. you pointed out the different soaps to the little girl and she nodded along, taking off her hat and setting it on the counter.

“leave your clothes outside of the door and i’ll give them a quick wash. if you need any help, just yell- or uh knock on on of the walls, okay?” you smiled and opened the cabinets, leaving 2 towels on the counter for her. as you reached for the door, you suddenly felt isha hugging your thigh. you let out a ‘oh’ in surprise and put a hand on her back, softly cradling her into your body.

she hummed the pnemonics of ‘thank you’, pushing her face into your leg.

“you’re welcome. and don’t worry about those two, they’ll be back soon,” you reassured her and pet her hair back, feeling her nod against you.

leaving isha to her own devices, you went downstairs and prepped two more plates, covering them up to keep the food warm. you smiled to yourself as you heard isha splashing around, quietly going over to the bathroom and picking up up her clothes. you walked into the laundry room and gave them a deep scrub, honestly, you were worried that they would disintegrate in the soapy water. rinsing out the surprisingly bright clothes, you stuck them in the dryer on a delicate setting.

the clothes were dry in no time as you occupied yourself with reorganizing the cups in the cabinet... again. opening the dryer, you folded her clothes carefully and put them outside of the bathroom door, letting isha know with a small knock. you heard the front door open and close, followed by a muffled thud. peaking around the corner, you saw jinx’s braids hanging off the couch and the blanket that was draped over the edge of the couch was now pulled off. sevika let out an exhausted sigh, leaning back against the door with her eyes closed.

“dinner’s on the counter,” you called out and finished folding some stray clothes that were still in the laundry room. sevika hummed in response and trudged into the kitchen, grabbing a plate with a fork. she dropped off the food with the utensil on the coffee table in front of jinx with a grunt, receiving a small wave in acknowledgment.

taking off her arm and leaning it against the side of the door she slumped into a chair at the kitchen table after she grabbed her own plate on the way over. heading out of the laundry room, you saw isha padding across the floor and into the front room, most likely laying with jinx now. you smiled softly at the two, reminding you of jinx and vi when they were younger, before vander died of course. walking over to the table, you sat timidly in the chair next to sevika. you didn’t ask what she and jinx did, knowing it definitely had something to do with the one henchman who was still alive.

sevika finished her meal and set her fork down on her plate, licking her lips in satisfaction. she promptly picked up your hand and brought it up to her lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. you caressed her cheek with your other hand and brushed your thumb against the blue scars that almost looked purple in the dim light, your eyes darting back and forth between hers, looking for answers.

“jinx has a plan for vi and that little enforcer friend of hers, are you down?”

“always.”

a/n: it was so fun to write this scene for scene!!! i love this fight scene so much omfg... rereading this post act 2 def hurt el oh el!!!!!

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all

[hadesoftheladies]

This might be one of the most important posts I've ever made. (Please Read)

@bakerstreetdocter per this post where i responded to the sports poll i made

on the poll for why folks in radblr didn't watch women's sports, the overwhelming majority of you said it was because you just weren't interested. i needed to make a whole post to respond to this because let me tell y'all something:

WOMEN'S SPORTS IS A HUGELY IMPORTANT INSTITUTION FOR ADVANCING WOMEN'S RIGHTS AND DISMANTLING PATRIARCHY

Let me tell you why.

#1. Sports and Male Hegemony

Do you know what keeps patriarchy so strong? Male camaraderie. The reason rapists and paedophiles don't go to jail, the reason men are paid more, the reason patriarchy even fucking exists is because men invest primarily in men. Sports doesn't just reflect this, it PERPETUATES it more efficiently than most other institutions (like it's right up there with religion and porn). I'm not kidding. Male sports is where men go to bond over everything. They bond over beating up their wives (I've seen it in real time), they gather to celebrate male strength and achievement, and elevate male dominance. The reason sports is so important to the patriarchy is not just because it perpetuates, centralizes and publicizes male excellence, but because it nurtures male camaraderie. It gives them space to be openly "manly," because it is really a festival for male dominance in every way.

Not only that, but it RADICALIZES boys and men in male supremacist ideology. If male peerage is where boys and men slowly corrupt each other with misogyny, men's sports is where that sort of thing is concentrated to the MAX. I'm talking MASSES of men and boys. Uncles and fathers taking their sons to bond over men they believe represent them and their perceived superiority. This has also had consequences for women and girls. Domestic violence rates shoot up during different (men's) sports seasons. The demeaning and brutalization of women is common in these environments.

If you think porn is a huge industry that radicalizes boys and men into becoming rancid misogynists, sports is the next big thing you should worry about, because however effective porn is for dehumanizing women, men's sports is the one most effective for popularizing male dominance and supremacy on a global and generational scale. Forget music and movies, THIS is something feminists should be fucking worried about.

(Read more of this article here.)

#2. Women's Representation, Power & Social Influence

Compared to the crumbs of proper representation we have for women in music, movies and mainstream literature, women's sports centres and normalizes every kind of woman you can think of. Big women, small women, muscular women, single women, masculine women, feminine women, women with wives and husbands, mothers, tall women, unattractive women, cocky women, etc . . .

I have never encountered a visual franchise that humanizes women more than women's televised sports. Never. Not in movies, not on the internet, not in shows. The raw humanity and personhood of women is given centre stage in every angle. We see women sweat, we see women bleed, we see women bump each other in the chest, we see them fight and scrap, flaunt, beg, roar . . .

This humanization has affected not only women who finally feel represented by other women to the world, but even men. Many men and boys who watch sports have far more positive outlooks on women than their counterparts. They are forced to appreciate the skills, strength, intelligence, and personhood of women.

In sports psychology, there's the topic of how people tend to form identities around the athletes or teams they admire. They perceive themselves as an extension of those teams/athletes. This is a very powerful social phenomena, because it strengthens intra-community investment by giving the individual a personal stake and sense of belonging.

It is powerful when men view male athletes and men's teams as an extension of themselves. When mothers take their children to these games and kids identify with the male athletes on the pitch. It is very effective in re-enforcing male-as-default for everyone.

But it is also powerful when this happens for women. When men, women, children begin seeing female athletes and teams as extensions of themselves, it strengthens the perception of kinship with women of all kinds. It humanizes women in an intimate way. Where it's no longer about the "women's team" but about "US." When men and little boys identify with female athletes, point and say "US" instead of "THEM" it lays crucial ground for male allyship.

This is partly why many women's leagues across multiple sports got banned historically. It was because they completely overhauled the idea of women as other and that was a threat to the status quo, because if men started identifying themselves with women, started seeing women's victories as theirs, started seeing women as their heroes, it made male dominance unnecessary and obsolete. It made women heroes for men, women, boys and girls to believe in. It made them leaders and icons. Champions. It destroyed all the lies patriarchy lived off of.

#3. Female Centricity, Community and Consciousness-Raising

I've talked about what this does for men, but I want to zero in on what this does for women.

Right now, in society, men have multiple institutions and industries to boost their camaraderie and male supremacy, whether that be sports, religion, gaming or pornography.

Now, can one of you name a single institution or industry that brings women together to bond over womanhood? Can you name a bonding ritual for women that doesn't include femininity? Most of you will probably only have entities like certain female musicians (taylor swift, blackpink, etc) rather than industries. Currently, the biggest industry that women bond over (and even then, it's not really a social event) is make-up. We're mostly broken up into different fandoms, or maybe we find each other studying certain women-dominated degrees. In most other cases, we're with each other doing something domestic (baby showers, cooking/planning during family get-togethers, etc). (though based on trends, university campuses may soon become women-dominated spaces in totality XD). The domestic sphere is perhaps where most of the consciousness raising has occurred historically.

Unfortunately, the biggest contributor to women's consciousness raising with the most global reach is our shared trauma. That is the one thing that unilaterally unifies women and girls everywhere, and even then, not totally.

While our shared suffering has been a great tool in radicalizing us for change (though it's already an L that we're suffering in the first place), it isn't something that actually empowers the community of women. Radicalization does not equal empowerment. And women need hope and joy to have strength to fight. They need to identify with each other, not simply with each other's suffering. If anything, women are in desperate need of an industry/institution that isn't crippling them with enforced femininity and isn't centred on their misery, but rather, celebrates their womanhood and the joys of being a woman. Centres womanhood. Something that gives them space to celebrate themselves.

The things that do that are the ones fiercely under attack, e.g. women's sports, lesbian festivals, etc. You need to have a hard think at why that is to realize how vitally important things like this are. The difference between something like women's sports and lesbian festivals that gives women's sports an advantage in being the most socially influential, is that women's sports encourages the participation of everyone and posits itself as relevant to all people within the geographic location it is a part of. So it gets more eyes and has more sway.

I have been brought to tears seeing crowds of thousands scream to a deafening degree over a young woman scoring a goal. I'm talking men, women, children losing their fucking minds. Chanting a woman's name from the stands. Rushing to take pictures with her. Cheering for her to break another record. Women need to know there are alternatives to being hated by men. You guys need to know what it feels like to see entire cities show up and show out for women. Where women are glorified, practically worshipped, not for being sexually attractive, not for being the epitome of beauty, but for being skilled, for being amazing women. You need to see women horsing around, unrestrained and free to talk shit. You need to see them acting goofy, without makeup. You need to see them surrounded by love and support no matter who they are. You need to see them having the time of their lives with each other. Real women, doing real things. You need to know what it's like to see a woman do incredible physical feats. You need to see how powerful the female body is. You need to see this day in and day out. You need to know it like you know your name.

Because that's what men have every day. And when I tasted it, I couldn't get enough.

The next generation of girls and women need this so fucking bad. Now more than ever.

#4. The Destruction of Gender

(Portia Woodman-Wickliffe, rugby player for New Zealand)

Which leads me to my next and pretty much final point as to the necessity of women's support of women's sports. Whether or not you're willing to admit it, most of you aren't interested in women's sports because of your gendered socialization.

This could be subconscious resistance (e.g. you're so used to it being mocked you can't fathom getting into it), or it could be simply because of your upbringing and current social environment. I've noticed, that most people engage with sports based on a pre-existing culture concerning sports. Most sons are introduced to men's sports by their fathers, and, as established earlier, it becomes a bonding ritual. Many of us didn't have those experiences as girls, so we never saw the value.

But I think this is also a part of enforced femininity. Right now, some parents don't want their girls watching women's sports because of how unfeminine the women are (and this usually goes hand in hand with homophobia, since a fair share of athletes are lesbian/bi). We're taught to be ladylike. To be demure. Female athletes can rarely afford to be. Even if they wear lashes to the court XD. They have to body their way through. They have to work and scrap and fight for their victories.

It's even more sad to me, since I'm now a very active watcher of women's sports (which I decided to get into on a whim one night, no lie, like I didn't feel like it I just decided to Google random stuff and look at highlights and then I got invested) how crippling that feminine socialization has been to me. How much I've missed. Not only has watching women's sports increased my own pride and confidence in my body, given me a space to experience joy in being a woman (outside of femininity), but it has also made me feel far more connected to women in a predominantly positive way (rather than trauma-bonding). It has humanized women for me, too. Even as a feminist. It's really kicked the shit out of what internalized misogyny I had left.

This is the primary reason women's sports has been so vilified, as I have pointed out in my other post on this topic: it is the loudest anti-gender campaign in society. It destroys patriarchal myths about womanhood and makes femininity and masculinity obsolete. This is why its still resisted today, and this is why it's integral to the feminist fight. Not only does it empower the fight for women's liberation, but it also bolsters movements for things like LGB rights, another movement that seeks to demolish the institution of gender in society.

Conclusion: This Is Urgent

While women's sports is on the up-and-up, female athletes NEED predominantly female audiences to ensure the integrity of their leagues and to minimize exploitation. If men remain the predominant stakeholders in women's sports, they get to demean, belittle, objectify, starve, sabotage and command the female athletes. They get to use women's sports to perpetuate misogyny and the dehumanization of women. At a time where women's liberation is gaining global traction and is heading to a potential climax with patriarchal society, this is something that is vital to our fight. I'm dead fucking serious. It stands to be one of our best assets in the global fight to humanize women. It is one of the best anti-patriarchal propaganda machines we have. We must protect it via our support both financially and with our time. We cannot let men take control of one of the biggest weapons we have. Girls need this. Boys need this. Society needs this.

WE need this.

[ghettogirly]

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄!!

-> synopsis: where he sees an unwanted man bothering you at the bar and decides to step in.

[🕷️] warnings: mature language, presence of guns, mention of violence, mention of alcohol.

[🕷️] authors note: this is my first time writing an imagine after three years so bear with me!! please reblog and like if you enjoy!

It was a cool day in nighttime of Miami, the sky cascades with elements of black and dark purple as the day descends into the night. You walked into the club, Zillion, and a stone of lights automatically attacks your eyes. The neon colours and the loud music hits your ears as swarms of people dance around you.

Your friends encouraged you to come out with them for once as you always stay at home, loving the peace and comfort of your own house. However, you felt guilty neglecting them and decided to accept their offer.

“Isn’t this fun!”, your best friend, Selina squeals.

You try push out a smile but you can’t help but still not feel the excitement that runs throughout the cramped room. “This isn’t my vibe, i want to go home already.” You sigh, feeling an aching sensation in the side of your head.

Nevertheless, your friends drags you to a tiny booth, having a small table with a bucket of ice and champagne placed on it. They start dancing to the music a little bit while deciding what they’re going to drink, completely hypnotised by the energy surging throughout the room. You just stand there, trying to loosen up a bit.

Your eyes scan the room, looking over the crowd of people on the dance floor before landing on a balcony on the upper floor. The VIP section. Interested, you observe the people there noticing flamboyant men with chains and clearly a lot of wealth. Sleazy women were scattered around them as they entertained useless conversations and presented flattery to the men. However, there was one particular man who was sitting there, a glass of whiskey and ice in his hand, completely zoned out.

You was fascinated. From your angle you could only see certain details of him. He wore a black silk shirt and ripped jeans, his lips were full, pink and glossy with his right eyebrow having a scar stripped through it. His tan skin shone in the neon lights, the club lights flattering his skin as the purple light compliments his cool undertones.

He was clearly uninterested in the girls around him, his scowl present on his face as he ignores the countless efforts of conversations around him.

Time goes by and you lose focus of everything going around you: eyes glued onto him. Everything seemed to stand still, the world no longer being important unless-

“Hey! What you looking at?” One of your friends shout from across the booth, snapping you out of ogling of the mysterious man. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Okay well, can you get us some drinks from the bar? I want a vodka with coke and some shots for the table, get whatever you want it’s on me!” She shouts over the defeaning music, shooing me away.

“Looks like i have no choice,” I sigh.

Walking over to the bar, i sit on one of the wooden stools, waiting for a bartender to approach me. Tapping the table out of habit, i feel a presence behind me. “Hey pretty lady, what’s your name?” The unknown man whispers, i feel his hot breath on my ear, causing me to shiver.

“I don’t have a name.” I groan, not even bothering to turn around and engage with the clearly drunken man, already over with the situation. He sits down beside me nevertheless. “Everyone has a name angel, come on.. tell me.” His alcoholic breath floods my nose, i squirm at the thought of the amount of alcohol he’s consumed.

His hand reaches over to my hair, tucking it behind my ear which now causes me to turn to his direction but move my head back in retaliation from the bold move. “I said i don’t have one, leave me alone.”

Out of nowhere, he grabs my face and forces me to look at him. “Don’t make me ask again.” The force he inflicts on my face causes my eyes to water, unable to say anything due to the man’s blind rage, i try repeatedly tapping his arm to let go of me but the alcohol has clouded his sense of judgement.

A whistle is then heard behind the man. “Let go.”

I look up and it’s the same man i noticed sitting at the VIP booth, he holds a silver glock to creep’s head, his face undistinguishable. Moving to the man’s ear he whispers, “don’t make me have to tell you twice,” his accent thick and heavy.

The man instantly lets go of my face, clearly shaking at not only the presence of the foreign man but the gun to his head as well. I sit there in shock, my eyes flickering from man to man, frozen as to what’s going to happen next.

“Now you’re going to apologise to this pretty lady and leave this club, don’t let me see you again or i will kill you.” He states casually, before swiftly putting the man into a headlock, keeping the gun in the same position. “Trust me, i’ll make sure to do it slowly and painfully.” He holds him down harder before letting him go, the drunken man chokes out and wheezes before running out of the club side to side due to his incompetent state.

The foreign man now turns to me, a slight smirk on his face. “The names Armando. Drinks are on me.”

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine protects you at a fundraiser and then Lemon learns about the two of you - Epilogue to Don't Blame Me

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: heavy make-out scene, swearing, canon like violence, attacking, mentions of blood and death, slapping, sexual innuendos, protective!Tangerine, jokingly implied daddy kink

~ thank you for requesting @j23r23 ily! this was fun to write! ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

Tangerine's hand grips your hair so firmly, his lips crashing into yours as he holds you close with his other hand. He's pressed you up against the wall of this empty corridor, your lips already bruised black and blue from the intensity of his kisses. You try and catch your breath to try and remind him Lemon is waiting inside.

"Tan," you mumble as his kisses trail down your neck, and you gasp, "This fundraiser is important for us. You're supposed to be m-mingling—ah—" you moan and your hands pull at his curls as his tongue explores your mouth as if it doesn't already know every crevice. 

"If you didn' want me kissing ya, you shouldn't av dressed like this," Tangerine groans, his hands gripping your hip as your navy blue dress bunches around your waist and the slit exposes your skin.

"I fuckin' hate these fuckin' events, you know that better than anyone, but you're making it so much sweeter," he growls and his teeth pull at your lip after he speaks and you squeal and press your palm on his chest, pushing him away. 

"Ow," you hold your hand over your mouth. 

Tangerine's hands find your cheeks and with obvious care, he examines your lip. When he finds no injury to fuss over, he kisses your forehead and mumbles, "'M sorry, my love."

You melt, all your anger disappearing as your shoulders relax. 

"Can we just go inside and do our jobs? Lemon is gonna kill us," you sigh and absentmindedly run your hands over the buttons of Tangerine's vest. 

"Bull," Tangerine chuckles and runs his thumb over the sides of your mouth, "Lemon's most likely too busy bothering some poor sucker over Thomas facts, bless 'im," he looks down and takes your purse, fishing out your lipstick and handing it to you, "Might wanna freshen up, darlin'. You look like a downright mess," he smiles and creates some distance between you. 

You frown. You take out your pocket mirror and angle it to see how smudged your crimson lipstick is. Your eyes snap up and see that Tangerine's lips have taken most of your lipstick and he looks just as sinful as you do. 

You turn the mirror around and deadpan, "So do you, dimwit."

He shrugs and just wipes the side of his mouth as he looks to the side. It doesn't help much, but he doesn't seem to care.

Tangerine barely looks like he's listening, his attention suddenly pulled elsewhere. You turn the mirror back around and then fumble with your lipstick as you try and reapply the color, grumbling, "Lem's right, you're such a fucking Gordon. Never fucking listening to me."  

However, you weren't expecting Tangerine's hand to suddenly close around mouth, the gesture surprising you so much you drop the mirror and it shatters on the ground near your heels. You prepared to shout at him, because what the fuck, when the look into your boyfriend's eyes, however, makes your blood runs cold.

"Something isn't right," he mutters, his hold on you unwavering, "I know those guys. They're not supposed to be here." Tangerine's voice sounds stern as he looks back towards the ballroom where the fundraiser is being held and the music is faint.

Abruptly, a loud gunshot is heard and screams follow as you gap and your hands fly to your ears. Tangerine seems unphased by the sound and without warning, he holds your forearm and pulls you down the hall in the opposite direction from the chaos now ensuing in the other room.

"Lemon," you exclaim breathlessly. Only, Tangerine isn't listening as he practically drags you to some smaller room of the building and pushes you inside.

The door closes shut before you can even process what he'd done and you slam your palms onto the splintered wood, shouting, "Hey!? Tangerine, what the fuck?" 

"I'll be back for you," you barely hear him over the gunshots and screams, and then nothing for a moment until it all resumes, and your shouting is drowned out by shouts of pain and fear. Your mind is racing as you look around the small, cramped, maintenance closet he'd basically forced you into.

Tears blur your vision but you try to find something to pick at the lock or however Tangerine had locked this goddamn door.

You continue to hear screams and gunshots. Your hands start to hurt as you use the pin in your hair to pick the lock instead. It's useless for a while and you slam your palm on the door in frustration.

What if something had happened to them? Why did he push you away? You could have helped them like you always do!

Finally, after what seems like forever, you hear the gunshots cease and it's replaced by sirens. You shove open the door with your shoulder, choking on a sob as you look around. You see bodies and blood everywhere and you feel weak as you walk towards the stairs and the exit.

You're too scared to scream out in case whoever was shooting is still around. 

Everyone is crowded in the street, some are injured in their sparkling dresses and fancy suits. Ambulance and police are parked all around and you know every assassin and criminal there is grateful for the cover of the charity.

You stumble into the crowd, desperately looking for two familiar faces, and when you hear an all too familiar rough voice snap out an insult, you snap your head around.

"Ya gotta let me back inside, you bastards! Do ya hear me? Someone is still in there! I gotta get 'er," Tangerine snarls and attempts to stand from the sidewalk where three exhausted-looking cops are trying to calm him down. He's bloodied and messy, and his eyes look wild. He's pissed. His arm is in a sling and Lemon is holding an ice-pack to his forehead as he grumbles to himself. 

You let out a breath and without thinking you find yourself running towards them as fast as your stupid heels can take you. Your mascara stains your cheeks and the stickiness prickles your skin as you choke on a sob when Tangerine sees you.

He stands up, his eyes now wide with pure shock and relief. The three officers look confused but move to the side when they see you approaching. 

The situation then becomes ever more awkward for them when you wrap your arms around Tangerine's neck and kiss him, pressing yourself into him to have him close. You ignore what a mess he's in or the way he squirms away because of his hurt arm. In fact, when you pull away you look him dead in the eyes and lift your hand to slap him. 

"Bloody hell—" Lemon stands beside his brother, his eyes wider than you've ever seen them.

At the same time, one of the officers grabs your arms and pulls you away from Tangerine, "Miss, you can't—"

"Don't touch her," Tangerine snarls harshly and with his good hand, he pushes the officer away from you and stares at him. "We're good here," he says with such authority they don't argue and leave you three alone.

"I cannot believe you locked me in a closet?!" you hiss and reach up to touch Tangerine's cheek, running your thumb over a bruise you think you made with your ring. Oops. "You nutter," you say.

"You kissed him," Lemon says again. 

"I had to, Peach, I couldn't have those dangerous fuckers hurting you!" Tangerine says calmly, unphased by your slap, and looks to the building and all the chaos, "I don' even know what they wanted from all of us—I mean, what sane person would put a hit on a bunch of assassins and hitmen?" His voice is softer as he thinks aloud. 

You slap his chest to pull his attention to you again. "I'm so mad at you! You could have died!"

"You kissed him," Lemon repeats, staring at the both of you as if he's in a trance. Then, he shakes his head and puts in between you and Tangerine, his arms outstretched on either side of him. "Will you fucks just shut up for one goddamn second?!" he glares at his brother and then looks at you, "You kissed him!?"

You bite your lip, the situation sinking in.

Shit.  

"She's done much more than that," Tangerine says, his tone smug.

"Tan!?"

"What?!" Lemon snaps his head to look at his brother. 

Realization dawns on him as he looks between his two favorite people and a look of disgust soon graces his features, "Gross! You've been hooking up? Seriously?!"

Tangerine stares at his brother sternly, "No. I love her. We love each other."

Lemon looks even more appalled and he looks at you as if you've lost your mind, "You love this arsehole?" he asks. You feel warmth on your cheeks but you nod and see Tangerine's shoulders visibly relax when you admit to Lemon you love him too. "Thomas help me," Lemon mutters and holds his head as he slumps back down on the pavement, "You fuckers are givin' me a headache."

Tangerine rolls his eyes and pulls your attention back to him when he touches your arm and moves you away from Lemon. You look up at him, still incredibly angry but the touch of his calloused hand on your cheek weakens your anger. "Peach," he whispers and pulls you in as he kisses your forehead, "'M okay, see, 'm not dead," he tells you as if one of his arms isn't in a sling.

"I can take care of myself, you know—" you pout, but you let him hold you close. 

"I know. But ya have me now. You've always had me," Tangerine says and looks you in the eyes, "I wasn't thinking, okay? I was just scared of losing ya. Can ya forgive me?" 

He says it so softly you have no choice but to accept his demand and you nod. 

"Lucky me," Tangerine chuckles and then kisses your lips sweetly. You roll your eyes at him when he drapes his suit coat over your shoulders to keep you warm as you walk back to the car but you lean into him anyway. Lemon trails behind you both, pouting. 

When he catches up, he says, "No kissing in front of me, alright?!"

"No promises," Tangerine winks at you and nuzzles his chin in your hair.

"Ugh, Peach, dump this arsehole already!" Lemon sounds exasperated by you both and you laugh, deciding to add a little salt to the wound. 

"But Daddy, I love him," you fake a whine in a high-pitched voice, quoting one of Lemon's favorite movies. Lemon, although understanding the reference, looks absolutely horrified at this.

"Don't call me that!"

"Don't call him that," Tangerine deadpans at the same time as his brother and pulls you in closer. You giggle when his mustache tickles your ear as he jokes in a whisper that you can only call him that when the time is right.

Lemon loses his shit when he hears his brother and he immediately pretends to gag for the rest of the walk back to the car. 

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you do a Daryl Dixon one where he almost loses her to someone/something/or a walker so he decides to tell her that he loves her and he makes love to her as well. A little possessive and maybe kinda future family references?

.⋆｡Worst Timing｡⋆.

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Daryl is an all or nothing man, so obviously he would only tell you that he was desperately in love with you right after you almost died.

Warnings: canon-level violence, walkers, loosely based around s6 ep9, sorry no smut this time (i blame the luteal phase), angst, fluff, confessions, blood, mention of kids  WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

A/N: Could be read as a part 2 to this but it isn't necessary to read it first

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The sounds of walkers were almost deafening, almost. The crackling of the flames behind him and the squelch of blades against flesh but Daryl forced himself to ignore all of that, though the volume kept increasing like someone had turned up the world’s biggest stereo. 

Withered hands reached for him, but the hunter battered them away with a swing of his knife. He just had to get further into the crowd, he could see the house where the group had been held up, the candles in the window like a beacon in the night. He was only a couple hundred feet away, a few rows of walkers between him and his people.

The sea of rotting bodies parted for just a moment, right as a street lamp flickered to life, and there you were. A crowbar in your dominant hand, your clothes soaked in blood and walker guts, your eyes reflecting the fire in front of you and for a moment, Daryl froze in awe. You gracefully swung the weapon over your head, bringing it down into the skull of a fresh walker before spinning on your heel and using the otherside to connect with the jaw of another. You moved fluidly, like this was a well-practised dance you had done hundreds of times before instead of a game of survival. 

Your arm came down, spiking a crawler through the top of its skull. But suddenly, you stopped moving, your eyes going wide. You grabbed at the crowbar with both hands and pulled back but it refused to budge, and just as you vanished once more into the crowd, Daryl saw why.

The straight end of the crowbar had pierced all the way through the walker and buried itself in the hard soil beneath your feet and with the walkers closing in around you, you had no room to get enough leverage to pull it out. Then you vanished between the walkers once more.

“Y/N!” Daryl didn’t even think as he launched himself in your direction, hunting knife screaming through the air, cutting down anything that stood in his way. He pushed and shoved and clawed his way through because you were all that mattered, you were all he lived for. The moment he met you in that stupid, beautiful, damned farm, his world had tilted on its axis.

Your smile was his sunlight, your laugh, his favourite music. Your body, his aurora borealis. You were a miracle and yet so painfully human all the same. And if he let you die, his heart would wither away with you before he ever got to tell you that it had been yours since before you both had even met.

Red blurred his vision though whether it was from blood or rage, he didn’t care to find out. He threw his broad shoulder into the chest of a particularly tall walker, forcing it back into the waiting blade of one of the Alexandrians and finally, finally clearing the way to you. 

You were pinned against the street curb, your back curved at an awkward angle as the weight of two walkers kept you from standing or rolling away. You held one back with your left arm, its face barely centimetres from your own, as you wedged a knee between you and the second one.

His fingers sank into the rotted flesh of the creature trying to sink its teeth into your forearm and threw it off with so much force that as soon as it hit the concrete several feet away, its skull cracked open, spilling black brain matter onto the street. You were now fully on your back, still punching and kicking in any direction you could, even as the walkers started to thin. You shoved off the second walker, just in time for Daryl’s steel-toed boot to come down right on the back of its head.

“Daryl.” His name dripped from your lips like honey, immediately cooling his head like some sort of balm to his soul. The ground shook as he fell to his knees next to you. The orange light of the lake still burning strong flickered across your face, illuminating every single detail he had memorised so long ago.

The roughness of his palm met the softness of your full cheek, sending a spark of excitement racing through his tired body. “I almost lost ya.” You pressed into his touch, your own shaking hand cupping his elbow as you leaned in closer.

“But you saved me.” His heart skipped a beat and you smiled gently at him. You were here, you were alive and in his arms and suddenly, Daryl couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

Your lips were chapped and dry but perfect all the same as he finally kissed you. A squeak of surprise passed from your mouth to his before your eyes fluttered shut and you pressed against him. Your fingers curled into the soft leather of his vest, like you were trying to anchor him to you as if he were about to get up and walk away. Daryl snarled at the thought, his grip on your jaw getting tighter as the kiss began to heat up.

You were desperately chasing his lips, your feelings so plainly laid out for him that Daryl felt stupid for never having seen them before. He felt your need to be by his side in the warmth of your touch, the faith you had in him in the way you let his weight rest against you. 

The softness of your body moulded to him in a way he could only imagine it would and it was so much more than that. Your nose bumped into his, prompting him to tilt his head. You responded with a soft moan that shot through his body. 

“While I am happy for you two, we still have shit to do, now’s not really the time.” You pulled away from Daryl’s lips with an embarrassed gasp, leaving him cold without your touch. Michonne stood above the both of you, equally haggard and filthy but her smile, although small, was genuine if not teasing. 

“Sorry.” You scrambled to your feet and pulled your crowbar from where it was still stuck. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at Daryl, a promise and heat in your gaze, before you jogged off into the centre of town where the herd was now thinned but still biting. 

He watched you go, his heart trailing behind you. “Rick’ll want to be godfather to your kids, just so you know.” 

A blush exploded across his face. “Shuddup.” He rushed after you, cheeks still burning and his body exhausted but he felt lighter than he had ever felt before. Because you were surviving and you were his and by whatever god was out there, he would spend the rest of his life thanking them for that.

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[sashaforthewin]

The mosh pit was intense. 

Steve had never been to a concert with moshing, but after a few moments of assessing the situation while trying to protect Dustin, he got the hang of it. There seemed to be one main focused clump of violence and then the edges where people were taking hits but not giving them. Steve instinctively knew this was where he was meant to go, so he positioned himself between the moshers and his charge. Dustin, unfortunately, seemed completely clueless and kept trying to get around Steve to get in on the fun. 

Upon closer observation, Steve noticed that the pit, while chaotic, wasn't actually as violent as he first thought. If someone went down, everyone around them pulled the person up. No fists were colliding. It was wild and bodies were slamming into each other, but it didn't seem life-threatening. So Steve looked at Dustin and said, "once around and then back here," before stepping aside and letting Dustin into the chaos.

Steve's eyes tracked Dustin's progress around the pit while he continued to take the hits the people behind him clearly didn't want to take. Bodies slammed against him, but there was something about it that was starting to be fun. There was a sort of camaraderie to the whole thing.

The moshing was moving in a sort of slow clockwise rotation, seemingly without anyone consciously choosing to do so. But then a guy slammed into Steve from the opposite direction, swimming against the stream, as it were, laughing and smiling. He looked at Steve and then did a double take.

"Hi," the guy said, now standing still within the mosh pit, unphased by the bodies slamming into him from all angles as he took Steve's hand in a slow shake, staring at him with huge dark eyes and a wide smile. 

"Hi," Steve responded. 

"I love your hair!" The guy said, still holding onto Steve's hand.

"Thanks, I love your vest!"

"Thanks, do you-" he started to ask but was cut off when the pit started to speed up and everyone started slam-dancing in a faster rotation. The guy was swept away into the circle and Steve lost sight of him.

Steve blinked. Then he saw Dustin, whose loud shirt was much easier to spot at a distance, and yanked him out of the circle pit. He could sort of see the guy every once in a while but the pit had him now so Steve continued his barrier duties of protecting the general crowd from the moshing and Dustin continued enjoying the raucous music.

As soon as the song ended, the guy popped back up next to Steve. 

"I love your energy, by the way. I haven't seen you at any shows around. I'm Eddie," he said, flirty, taking Steve's hand again, not really shaking it but more formal than the typical holding hands. 

"I'm Steve. Ow, and this is Dustin who I babysit because he is an immature little child," Steve said, rubbing the back of his leg where Dustin had kicked him.

Dustin was glaring.

"Dude, you don't have to call it babysitting, I'm fifteen."

"Don't worry, little fella, maybe your hot babysitter will invite me over some night he's watching you so we can hang out without you after your bed time."

"Ew. Also, he makes out with women, he likes women," Dustin proclaimed. 

"And more," Steve shrugged, still staring and smiling at Eddie. 

"More, huh? Well I am most definitely more."

Steve had never gone after a guy before, but he couldn't deny the appeal of someone so obviously really attracted to him. His inability to tell if he liked someone or if he liked that they liked him had caused him issues in the past and it sure wasn't showing signs of stopping any time soon, so he just embraced it. He was always willing to give it a shot and see what happened. 

So, with that in mind they exchanged numbers and then got to chatting. Dustin got bored and snuck off back to the mosh pit and Steve decided he could deal with whatever consequences he ended up with, which later turned out to be a bunch of bruises and a bloody, but unbroken, nose. 

But in the meantime, Steve and Eddie discovered they were both in Chicago for the concert and were actually both from the same town, though about as far away from each other as they could possibly live while still being in the town limits. They made plans to hang out at the Hideout the following weekend just in case they lost each other's numbers, and then they were rudely interrupted by Dustin turning up with blood pouring out of his nose. Eddie grabbed them some bar napkins and Steve decided they'd better call it a night. 

"Here, little man, we can trade shirts so you don't have to jumpscare your parents with gore. I like Weird AL and I don't mind being covered in blood. That sounded weird, don't take that the wrong way, Steve."

After some grumbling, Dustin and Eddie swapped shirts. Steve thanked him for being so considerate and kind by pulling him in by the hand and placing a small kiss on his lips, which Eddie eagerly reciprocated and the two made out hot and heavy for a moment until Dustin yelled at them and dragged Steve away.

Eddie just stood there smiling and watching his future husband get pulled out of the club by a disgruntled teen now rocking a Corroded Coffin shirt. After they were out of sight, he sighed wistfully and then headed back into the new circle pit that was just forming. 

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twelve

authors note: ya'll remember the theme song from wizards of waverly place? 'everything is not what it seems'? yeah....remember that.

also, don't cuss me out for the ending, pleassseeee.

shoutout to the lovely @fearlesschimera for helping me with the italian translations! ❤️

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of dv, slight fighting? language, angst, fluff, sexy time scene aka mild smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (unhinged)

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Nina’s singing and subsequent light laughter is what tears away Solana’s focus from her artwork. Turning away from the paper on the dining room table, she angles her body in the chair, swinging her legs around as she watches her mom dance around the kitchen.

Nina’s voice is soft and melodic, a nice compliment to the singer whose name Solana can never remember despite this being one of her mom’s, if not thee, favorite song.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs off the chair and runs up to hug her mom from the side.

Nina’s smile grows even more as she looks down at her only daughter. “Mija.”

Solana looks up, big eyes reflecting the same amount of love and adoration. She responds in her mom’s native language. A ‘secret’ little thing they do in times like this where her dad and brother are gone. Communicating in only a way they can understand. 

“I wanna dance with you, mommy!”

Nina’s laughter is similar to her singing and speaking voice. And it’s infectious too, Solana joining in as Nina playfully spins her around. “Then dance with me, mija.”

Solana doesn’t need to be told twice. And maybe it’s less dancing and more moving around in a way that represents the happiness both mother and daughter feel in this moment. A brief little thing, something that happens in small to medium doses infrequently. 

But when it does roll around, the both of them capture and hold onto it with all that they have. 

When the song finishes, Nina turns down the music system as she redirects Solana to her art. “Can I see what you made?”

It’s a question she already knows the answer to. Solana nodding furiously as she takes her hand and guides her over to the table. Pointing, Solana explains, “look, mommy, it’s you and me!”

Nina gasps quietly. Even at seven, her daughter seems to have a gift with the arts. Reading, writing, and drawing. It hurts her sometimes that she can’t feed it more. That she’s limited to so little resources when it comes to helping Solana better her craft. 

Nina lifts up Solana and sits down in the chair, her daughter on her lap. “It’s beautiful, mija. You’re so talented.”

The complement brightens Solana’s smile. “Just like you, mommy!” Solana lifts up the page, offering additional explanation. “See, that’s you and me at the Play—playa—”

Nina helps her out, “Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres?” 

Solana nods. “That!” 

A brief sweep of sadness overcomes her with memories of home. Memories of simpler, happier times. Her children still bring her a sense of fulfillment, but it’s often weighed down by the trauma of everything else. “Oh, I wish you could see the water, Sol. It’s so beautiful, so clear. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Solana looks up at her with all of her naivety and innocence. “We can go there one day, mommy, right? Just you and me?”

Her throat constricts at Solana’s question. Nina doesn’t have it in her to expose her young child to the ugly truth. “Of course, baby.” She brushes some of Solana’s hair back. “What about your brother?”

It’s not missed upon her how the mention of Wesley makes Solana’s smile dim. “He doesn’t like us….”

“Oh, baby…” Nina brings her hands to gently cradle Solana’s face. “He does. It’s just your father….your father tells him things about us that’s not true, but he does like us. He loves us just like I love you and him. I love you both so much.”

There’s not enough time in the world or ways that she can say it to truly exemplify just how much she means it. Even with Xavier doing everything he can to keep her away from her son, it doesn’t extinguish her love for him. 

If anything, it just makes it stronger. 

The sound of the garage doors lifting brings Nina back to her crushing reality, from her brief escapism. “He’s home.” Wide eyes dart to the kitchen as she realizes dinner is still about twenty minutes out from being ready. “Come, mija!” Nina jumps from the table and is quick to gather all of Solana’s artwork. She knows how this will play out, and she refuses to allow him to destroy Solana’s work the same way he often does her own. Reaching it to her, Nina hurriedly advises, “go to your bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Trembling hands reach Solana the CD player and headphones. “Don’t take these off, you hear me?”

Solana’s smile is completely gone, her eyes watering, “he’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

Nina swallows back her sob. “‘Don’t worry about me, Solana. Just do as I say, okay?” The sound of the door to the garage being ripped open alerts her to just how pressed for time they are. With all of the urgency, she pleads, “go!”

And despite everything in her wanting her to stay, to help, to do whatever she can, Solana does as she’s told.

Rushing up the stairs, Solana doesn’t stop until she’s in the bathroom. She locks the door and falls on the floor, back up against it, eyes watering even more.

She moves as fast as she can to put her headphones on, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t make out specific words, but it’s not needed to know and hear her father’s angry yelling followed by the pained wails of her mom. Glass breaking, items being thrown, Xavier’s screams of unbridled fury.

That’s when the dam breaks, tears spilling out of her eyes as she hits play to sound out the noise that never really goes away, never really stops haunting her, from making her chest feel so full and heavy.

This….this is the soundtrack to her life. 

Solana isn’t unsure how long she sits there, working so hard to drown out the cries and screams of her best friend. Long enough to where she falls asleep only to be woken up by the same woman whose shouts of terror unintentionally and tragically lulled her to sleep.

The first thing Solana notices is the blood, followed by the puffy, blackened area under her right eye. Still, her mom is only focused on her, hand under her chin as she asks, “are you okay, mija?”

The tears return as Solana is face to face with the result of her father whose anger knows no bounds. “Mommy….”

“Don’t cry, baby.” Nina pulls Solana against her chest, braving the pain coursing through her body, particularly her ribs. “I’m—I’m okay.”

She hates lying to her daughter, feels almost sick with herself for gaslighting her. Solana is wise and perceptive. She knows that her mother is far from fine.

“What if—what if one day he hurts you real bad?”

Nina wasn’t expecting this question, wasn’t expecting her young daughter to ask something she herself has thought about from time to time. 

What happens when Xavier finally takes his beatings too far?

Shoving away those dark thoughts, Nina shows Solana her inner forearm. “What is this, Sol?”

Solana wipes at her eyes and focuses on the beautifully, dark inked hummingbird tattoo on her mom’s skin. “A Hummingbird.”

“That’s right.” Nina wipes at her tears. “And what did I tell you about Hummingbirds? Hmm? What do they mean to our people?”

Solana sniffles and explains in a quiet voice. “They’re messengers from the spirits in heaven.”

“Exactly, so that means even when people leave us in one form, they’re still here in another. Still here even if they look a little different.” Nina’s voice cracks a bit as she promises, “I’m always with you, Solana. No matter what.”

Emotion building back up, Solana thrusts herself against Nina and cries into her chest. “Why can’t we leave, mommy?” She looks up, full of confusion and fear. “Then he can’t hurt you anymore.” Nina swallows. “We can run away where he won’t find us!”

Nina has a hard time holding back her tears. A dream. That would be a dream. If she could somehow escape this hell, take her children from this nightmare. But, it's just that, a dream. Because this is the life they live. This is her reality. 

And there’s nothing that can change that.

Not without her putting her children’s lives at risk, because Xaver has made it abundantly clear in a variety of violent ways what will happen should she ever be “stupid” enough to think she could leave.

“Listen to me, Solana.” She wipes away the tears of her sweet child. “This…what your father does to me….it’s not love, and it’s not okay. I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you that way.” It feels almost bitter leaving her mouth, the amount of hypocrisy she feels at saying such a thing. If only she could practice what she preaches. “You are so special, and your heart is so big.” She places her hand over Solana’s chest. “This is your biggest gift, and you must always be careful who you share it with. Because yours is extra special.” She presses her lips against Solana’s forehead. “No matter what, never forget that life is a gift. You are a gift, Solana.” Her eyes shut, absorbing all the love and comfort. “My sol.”

________

Memories of much darker, sadder times have unintentionally become a motivating factor for Solana during training. She finds a sort of strength and fuel at reflecting on times from the past where she was bogged down with such fear. 

Now though, it’s not as much fear as something else that’s unfamiliar but not unwarranted.

Anger. 

It’s what helps and almost keeps her on her feet and in the game as she spars with Bayley, knife in the back of her shorts. It’s the first time she’s done as such, practiced training, practiced fighting, with that little thing that’s caused her so much pain throughout her life.

But now, she’s the one with the blade, with the ability to use it against someone else vs it being used against her. 

It’s a different feeling, still uncomfortable, but also empowering in a strange sort of way.

Naomi is on the side, calling out various tips and reminders as Solana is able to successfully avoid certain hits and attacks from Bayley. She knows her friend is still holding back a bit, but not nearly as much as she did in the beginning.

Solana slightly appreciates that.

She feels….she feels good almost knowing that the progress she’s made isn’t because it’s been given to her. It’s been earned.

And unbeknownst to her, there’s an audience observing the sparring, an audience that consists of none other than the twins, Nia, and her husband who watch from the balcony above.

Roman had a meeting with Nia earlier in the day, hence his presence at the Warehouse, but staying after to silently observe Solana while she trains wasn’t necessarily on the agenda. It just happened.

Much to the chagrin of Wise Man who once again tries to remind Roman of what he already knows. He clears his throat, nerves big and evident, “sir, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to meet with—-”

“I’m aware.”

Paul swallows, closing his eyes as he sends up a prayer, asking for mercy. “Of course, sir, but—but, if we don’t leave now—”

“The meeting will start whenever I arrive, and I’ll get there when I get there.” Roman’s dark, irritated gaze falls on his chief advisor. “Is that understood?”

Paul straightens, more than familiar with that look. The look that can be followed up with an act of violence. “Y—yes, my Tribal Chief.” 

With that shit straightened out, Roman easily falls back into the almost trance he’s in watching her. 

Updates with her progress from Naomi and Bayley have been one thing, but it’s another to actually see her in action. 

See the precision and speed in which she moves. She seems almost….in her element.

A far cry from the terrified mess she was when he first met her.

She’s coming into her own, and he loves to see that shit. 

But, it’s when Bayley lands a particularly harsh blow against Solana, one that has her holding onto her face that Roman steps forward. A fresh wave of anger comes over him at the fact that Bayley could be so stupid to hit her so hard. She should fucking know better. 

Who the fuck does she think she is to hit Solana?

He’s stopped, however, when Nia extends her arm across his big body, preventing him from checking on his wife. 

He turns toward her, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Move.”

She rolls her eyes, unbothered, motioning for him to continue watching. “Wait.”

Roman has no fucking intentions on waiting. Not when Solana could be hurt. He’s going to tear Bayley a new one for that. Why the fuck would she hit her so hard?

But, it’s as he’s watching and sees Bayley move toward Solana to check on her, that he realizes why Nia may have stopped him from acting too prematurely.

Because Solana is suddenly no longer doubled over. She’s bringing her knee up to Bayley, forcing the other woman to double over from some level of pain. But Solana doesn’t stop. She instead uses her leg to swipe Bayley off her feet, sending her into the ground.

Solana pounces on top of her, forcing her on her stomach. Straddling her, a fist full of her hair as she yanks her head back and brings the knife up to her neck.

Roman smiles.

Around him, the twins start to make a whole scene.

“Oh shit, okay Soso! I see you girl!”

“Alright, sis! That’s how you do it!”

Roman watches as she drops the knife almost immediately but not before she smiles, emotional almost, while being cheered on by Naomi who runs over and hugs her from the side. Solana laughs as she stands up, Bayley also jumping up, joining in the celebration.

“You know, it’s not very often that I'm wrong, but I gotta admit.” Roman turns to Nia who also looks a level of impressed. “I was wrong about Princess.” Nia chuckles. “Girl’s got some fight in her after all.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but that’s not out of disagreement.

Solana might be one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

And it has nothing to do with what he just witnessed.

Nia continues, announcing, “I think she’s ready to advance to the next level.”

Roman has his own definition of what that is, but he’s slightly curious about Nia’s take. “Which is?”

“She needs to start training with a man.”

He nods. They’re on the same page then. “I’ll talk with her about taking over—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Nia has always been outspoken, but there are some days he has to remind himself that she’s family. Because her smart ass mouth on anyone else would have them six feet under.

“She’s comfortable with you. It needs to be with someone she doesn’t know.”

And this time, Roman is the one shooting it down. “No.” To make Solana train and fight with a man, a stranger at that, seems like it would be triggering for her. In no way, shape, or form will he let that shit happen.

Nia, however, seems intent on just that. “Look, four months ago, I would agree with you, but look at what that girl just did. She grounded Bayley, Roman.” He looks away, running his hand over his face. “She’s come a long way, and to stop her now would only be a disservice. You’d be hindering her.” When he says nothing, mostly because he knows she has a point and he hates that, she continues. “And I’d say have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum do it, but she seems to be comfortable with them too. For some reason.”

Jey finishes chewing his snack, most likely a creation by Solana, asking with all the obliviousness, “hey, what’d you say?”

Roman ignores him while Nia rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Roman, but you’re not stupid.” He looks at her. “You know I’m right.” 

He turns away,  watching as Bayely and Naomi talk to Solana, clearly providing her additional instruction. He’s focused on Solana. She looks so….relaxed. So in her element. It’s such a far cry from the first time he met her.

She’s almost like an entirely different person. This causes him to sigh loudly. 

Nia is correct. He’d be hindering the growth that’s got her to where she is today.

And that’s something he could never forgive himself for.

“I’ll talk to her.”

________

Bayley: If ya’ll could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Solana is taking a brief break to check her phone, mainly for any texts from Roman, when Bayley sends her message in the group chat that the three of them share.

Naomi: Ooooh, Bora Bora! Heard it’s beautiful!

Bayley: Nice! I’d say the Maldives. 

Bayley: Solana?

It’s a good question that she doesn’t really have the answer for. 

Solana: Idk. I’ve…I’ve never been out of the country, so it’s hard to say.

Naomi: Seriously? Never traveled at all?

Solana: No. 

Bayley: So then there definitely has to be someplace! 

It takes a minute for her to really think about how to respond, because her initial instinct is to double down on her first answer. But, it’s when her memory from earlier in the day returns to the forefront of her mind that she finds herself being more open than she anticipated. 

Solana: Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres. It’s in Mexico. My mom always said the water was so beautiful. 

And that they would visit someday.

That never happened though.

It never happened because she was murdered before she could make the dream come true. 

An uncomfortable blanket of sadness comes over her, forcing Solana to put her phone down and resume her work, an effective distraction. 

She grabs a set of books that need to be restocked and makes her way over to the appropriate aise when she overhears low sniffles.

Frowning, she places the books down on the cart and follows the sound of the sniffles that sound a lot like someone crying. It's when she moves to the next aisle that she finds the source.

A little girl. No more than 6 or 7. She’s sat up against a row of books, little legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her knees.

Solana’s frown deepens as she slowly approaches the child, leaving enough distance to not startle her. Solana knows better than most the detriment of being taken off guard when already upset.

“Hi there.” Her head snaps up, and right away Solana is met with striking blue eyes that are blurred with tears and an emotion Solana knows all too well.

Fear.

“It’s okay,” she comforts, intentional about keeping her distance and voice soft. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The little girl who, in a strange way, reminds her a lot of herself with her light complexion and russ brown hair that’s a combination of curl patterns, stammers with a response. “My—my mommy and daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Your mommy and daddy are very smart.” Staying where she is, Solana slides down onto the floor. She brings her legs to her side and offers her name. “My name is Solana. I work here in the library.” Wanting to earn some level of trust, Solana informs, “I really like to read.”

Her eyes light up a bit. “You do?”

She nods, keeping her smile. “My mom used to read with me all the time. Does your mommy ever read with you?”

The little girl nods and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. Daddy does too sometimes, but he works a lot.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit. She can both relate and not relate. Her father was never really home, and she preferred it that way. But when he was….it was hell. 

Using the opening, Solana asks softly, “where is your mommy?”

She hesitates, and her bottom lip trembles a bit, but she ends up explaining her presence. “I was walking outside with mommy, and I saw a butterfly, and—and I wanted to catch it, but then I got lost.” She starts to cry as Solana puts the pieces together, realizing she ran off, got lost, and maybe ventured into the library to ask for help. Or to cry in a safe space.

Solana gets that too.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll help you find your mommy, okay?” 

The offer seems to settle her emotions a bit. Solana watches as she wipes her eyes and almost asks in a hopeful tone. “R–really?”

Solana smiles again and nods. “Of course.” She stands up, not moving from her spot but offering her hand. “You want to come with me?”

The little girl nods and stands up, slowly walking up to Solana and taking her hand. She looks up, sharing in a slightly more confident tone, “my name is Emma.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” Solana gently squeezes her hand. “Now let’s go find your mommy.” 

Solana notes how Emma squeezes her hand back. It warms her heart.

She guides Emma toward the steps, careful to not walk too fast, mindful of the fact that Emma is still, wisely, very cautious of the fact that Solana is still a stranger.

Solo meets Solana at the bottom of the steps, his unkind gaze falling on Emma who hides herself behind Solana.

Looking down, she advises her, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

Solo rolls his eyes, gesturing with his chin. “Who is this?”

Solana looks back at him, answering while intentionally not providing a name. Emma provided Solana her name, not Solo. “She got separated from her mother. I’m gonna help her find her.”

He scoffs. “Ain’t that what the police is for?” 

Frowning, Solana finds herself defending her actions. “She’s already scared.”

He cuts his eyes, voice sharp as she reminds her of his role. “My job is to protect and watch you. Not some random badass kid—”

“D–don’t call her that.” Anger. Solana finds herself growing angry with Solo’s disposition. A rare emotion for her. But, she can’t stop thinking about the scared little girl clinging onto her leg, finding some form of comfort in her. She can’t stop thinking about how she used to be that little girl. How she used to cling onto her mother for comfort. 

Until she couldn’t.

“I’ll help her by myself. I—” Solana swallows. “I don’t need your help.” 

The library is in neutral territory. She should be fine to walk up and down the street to help an innocent child without the protection of someone Solana is realizing really doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

Gently encouraging Emma to follow her, Solana leads the little girl out the double doors of the library and onto the busy sidewalk.

Solo never comes after her.

And in a weird, sort of unfamiliar twist that she doesn’t really understand, Solana prefers it that way.

She prefers Solo not toggling along, his negative energy not interfering and exacerbating Emma’s fear.

Leaning down, Solana asks, still with that gentle smile, “do you remember which way you came from?”

Emma frowns again, shaking her head. “N–no.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just look left and right.” Straightening up, Solana decides to go to the left first, knowing that there’s a kids boutique a few doors down. It seems like a good place to start. And it’s while walking, Emma suddenly asks a question that literally makes Solana feel like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her.

“Are you a mommy?”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why it takes a second for her to answer such a basic question. The question, in terms of complexity, is simple and can be answered with a single word. But everything else with it is…..not easy. Because she has no idea why her tone suddenly shifts to something sad as she finally replies.

“No.” And before she can think about what’s leaving her mouth, before she can even process what she’s saying, Solana adds, “not yet.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not backtrack, to try to offer some explanation that probably wouldn’t make any sense to such a young child why she was taking her answer back. But beyond that, there’s a part of Solana that doesn’t want to take it back.

She doesn’t want to take it back because….because maybe it’s the truth. 

Emma looks up with a small smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re gonna be a nice mommy.”

Her chest constricts, and Solana feels her eyes watering from an emotion she can’t pinpoint.

Emotional smile and all, she manages to keep the tears at bay. “Thank—”

“Emma!”

Solana and Emma snap their heads and attention to the source of the voice, as Emma drops Solana’s hand.

“Mommy!” 

Solana jogs behind Emma who makes a mad dash in the direction of the woman who called her name. Solana stops when a large man moves in between her and Emma and the woman.

Emma’s little voice calls out at the same time Solana backs away, a bit of anxiety growing in her stomach as she thinks about the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. “No, she’s my friend!” 

“Bron, back off.” The woman speaks, and almost instantly, the large man with cold eyes that remind her of Solo moves away. The view and path is cleared again as Solana sees Emma being held by a woman who could never deny the child in her arms belongs to her. Emma is her twin outside of the blue eyes Solana would guess she got from her father.

“Mommy, this is Solana.” Emma introduces, pointing and waving. “She helped me find you!”

The woman, a few inches taller than Solana, with hazel eyes and almost perfect facial features, smiles. Again, Solana sees nothing but Emma. “Thank you so much—”

The large man who Solana hasn’t forgotten about and vice versa chimes in. “Brandi—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bron.” She cradles Emma closer to her chest, as Solanaa clears her throat.

“Of course.” She points behind her. “I—umm—I work at the library. I—I do a kids reading club on Mondays, if—if Emma would like to join.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that as she’s pulling on her mom’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go?”

The woman, Brandi, as Solana heard the large, unkind man refer to her frowns a bit. “After today, I’ll be lucky if your dad lets you or me leave just to check the mail, let alone go into town again.” Still, she turns to Solana, “but thank you for the information. She loves books, so I’d know she’d love to attend.”

And it’s then that Emma throws out with all the innocence of a child. “Solana’s gonna be a mommy too! Just like you!” 

Her breath catches. Solana once again has to fight back the tears that don’t make sense as well as the sadness that doesn’t make even more sense. “Some…someday.”

Brandi offers a smile that’s reassuring. Like she understands what doesn’t need to be directly stated. “Well, I wish you all the luck.” She tickles Emma’s stomach and jokes, “they’re a handful.”

And for a second, just the briefest of a second, solana visualizes just that. Visualizes herself holding a child, a child that would have her smile. Roman’s eyes. His strong will. Her innocence.

A perfect representation of them both.

But, it’s quickly pushed away, stomped on by logic.

That…..that’s not even something she should allow herself to consider right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

Even if that very visual is exactly why the marriage was arranged in the first place. 

She clears her throat. Despite being outside, Solana all of a sudden feels almost closed in. “I—I should get back to work.” 

Brandi nods. “Of course.” She doesn’t even have to direct Emma to say goodbye, as the little girl with a sweet smile full of innocence is already on it.

“Bye, Solana!” She then adds on with all of the hope. “I hope I see you again!”

Solana hopes the same too.

After parting, Solana noticing the almost menacing glare that ‘Bron’ man sends her way, she walks back to the library in complete silence, feeling so conflicted and torn by emotions that usually don’t work in her favor in general.

But, it’s when she’s about to head up the steps, Solo appears again wearing an almost smug expression, that she stops in her tracks at his comment. “You done playing mother Teresa?”

She doesn’t know where it comes from. Doesn’t know how she’s even able to allow it to leave the safety of her mouth, the confines of her thoughts vs being expressed. But, that’s exactly what happens. 

Solana turns to him and doesn’t stutter as she asserts, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.” Swallowing and with an uncharacteristically amount of confidence, she warns almost, “Roman wouldn’t let you talk to me like that.”

And it seems like that not so little reminder of who her husband is triggers something for him. Solo clears his throat, muttering almost, “my apologies.” He asks, a perfect combination of forced concern and obligation, “whose kid?”

She starts not to answer, but being a form of assertive and dismissive feels like too much in one day. “I don’t know. Some man with her called her Brandi?”

At that, his attention seems almost intensified. He’s quiet for a moment. “Brandi?”

Confused at his subtle but noticeable change in demeanor, Solana nods. “Yeah. I think she called the man Bron?” 

Solo looks away, like there’s something about these two pieces of information that are important. So she asks, “why?”

Solo’s gaze is back on her, and like a snap of a finger, the intensity in his expression melts into something cavalier. “Nothing.”

Solana is quiet. And suspicious. Something in the pit of her stomach tells her there’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s keeping to himself. 

But she doesn’t push it.

She’s got other things on her mind.

Other things she shouldn’t have on her mind. 

But, she does. She really, really does.

________

Later that evening, the strange, conflicting emotions from her encounter with Emma and her mother, Brandi, are still plaguing Solana. She’s grateful that Roman has to take his dinner in his office due to work, because it at least gives her space to process such big emotions without him picking up on anything being wrong.

He seems to be very good at that. 

In preparation for winding down for the evening, she’s at the sink, washing the dishes when Roman comes up behind her. It’s only a brief second of tension that’s easily settled by his arms around her, his mouth on her neck. 

She smiles, noticing the increasing amount of comfort and want she’s experiencing at him touching her.

It’s getting to the point where she almost craves his touch.

It’s…comforting. 

Roman makes a sound, lips moving up to kiss her cheek. “Meet me at the pool in an hour.”

She frowns, turning toward him. “What?”

He brings hand to her mouth, thumb gliding over her bottom lip. “You said you wanted to get in, right?”

“I—” And she can’t protest, can’t find a way to politely disagree. Because she did say that. And he’s clearly holding her to it. “Yes.”

His hand slides down to cup her ass, Solana gasping quietly as he smirks. “Then let’s do it.” Her eyes shut, and she bites down on her bottom lip as he whispers in her ear, “I want to see that bathing suit of yours.”

Another gasp as he squeezes her ass. “Roman.” 

He says nothing else, walking away. Solana takes a second to reflect on the interaction, sits on the fact that he was able to touch her and she didn’t tense up. Didn’t freeze up. She almost…she almost liked it.

But what she doesn’t like is the fact that she now has to apparently meet this man in the pool wearing that bathing suit that nobody but her made him aware of. He would have never known she even owned it she hadn’t opened her mouth in a poor way to distract him.

And now he wants to see her in it.

And now the anxiety is growing again. 

Because while she’s grown more comfortable with his touching her, she’s been almost entirely clothed during those times. Even with the more revealing outfits. This one will definitely take the cake. She’s not sure her lingerie from their wedding night was as showy as this bikini.

She takes her time finishing up the dishes and is at least grateful to see he’s nowhere near their room or bathroom as she sneaks in and locks the door to put it on. 

Solana must mess around with the suit at least ten different times. Pulling. Tugging. Tightening. It doesn’t make a difference because the swell of her chest and backside prove too much. There’s not much to be hidden, to be camouflaged, to be covered up. And that’s always been her preference. Never in her life has she owned or even worn a two piece suit. And yet, here she is about to step out in one that leaves little to the imagination in front of one of the most attractive men she’s ever laid eyes on.

A man that gives her butterflies with just one look of his dark, beautiful eyes. 

She tries telling herself that it’s just Roman. That she shouldn’t overthink it so much. That he’s made his attraction to her clear, time and time again. But, it’s hard to factor those things in when he’s never seen this much of her, so much skin, so much scarred skin. Skin with stretch marks and cellulite. Scars from the stabbing. The pudge of her belly.

It’s all so…revealing. Physically and emotionally.

It’s almost to the point where she has more anxiety about him seeing this much of her body than actually getting in the water, which was and should be the main source of her abundance of nerves.

But, it’s not. It’s not because even with all of her progress, it’s so hard to not compare herself to other women he’s been with. Women like Samantha who look nothing like her, who must look better than her.

That brings on a deeper level of insecurity. 

Will he compare her body to Samantha’s? How can he not? 

They’re night and day. One is preferred. One is shunned.

And Solana has never been preferred.

Eyes watering, she reaches for the large t-shirt and slides it over her body, comforted by not being faced with so many flaws. Deterred entirely, she starts to think of an explanation she can give Roman as to why she can’t get in the pool tonight.

Or any other night. 

But when she steps out of the bathroom, that plan is thrown out the window because Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Shirtless.

Wearing only swim trunks.

She’s momentarily focused on him. Focused on every rippling muscle of his body that’s damn near perfect. So opposite of her own.

Realizing she’s staring, she shakes her head, “I—”

“It’s been an hour.” Roman drags his eyes over her, and it’s like she knows what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “You’re not dressed.”

Pushing back some of her hair, Solana is very much focused on the piece of abstract art on the wall opposite his bed. “I was thinking—”

“No.”

That she wasn’t expecting. Such a….blunt rejection. Eyes back on him, she frowns. “What?”

“You’re not backing out.” Solana swallows. He sounds so definitive. “I won’t make you get completely in the water, because I understand why that’s difficult for you.” She says nothing, at least grateful for his understanding in that area. “But you can at least sit on the edge. Work your way up to it.” An ironic choice of wording considering the other thing they’re working their way up to. He stands from the bed, and as much as Solana wants to look away, she can’t. She’s focused on him. All 6’3 of him. So intimidating. But not to her. So strong. But he’s never used his strength against her. So attractive. The same way he feels about her. 

“Without the shirt.”

Her stomach drops, anxiety brewing again. “Roman….”

He’s suddenly in front of her, his hands reaching to pull her against him. “That’s not your trauma. It’s your insecurity, and I’m not accepting that shit because it’s not fucking fair for you to be as beautiful as you are and not see or feel it.”

She swallows as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. “Off.” It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning nature to it. Like regardless of how he feels, he’s still giving her the space to say no. 

To have that autonomy. 

It’s appreciated.

It’s also why despite her anxiety, with her eyes closed, she relents. “O–off.”

Roman doesn’t seem to waste any time pulling her shirt up and over her head. And as soon as she feels the chilly air of his room on her body, the realization that she’s more exposed in front of him than she’s ever been before, she’s crossing her arms over her chest. 

Hiding.

Embarrassed.

“No.” And his hands are on her forearms, pushing down, gently but with purpose. “No hiding.” She keeps her eyes closed as he forces her arms down at her side. “Solana, look at me.” And she wants to, she actually wants to, but it’s hard, because all she can imagine is his disgust, his disinterest. “Look at me.”

His tone is somehow forceful but gentle, in a way only he can do. In a way that never makes her feel scared, but always safe. 

So she obliges.

Roman’s gaze is on her, intentful and burning. His jaw is clenched. “It pisses me the fuck off that you’ve been made to feel anything less than fucking gorgeous.” And she watches as he travels his beautiful eyes over her body. Slowly. With a level of desire that she, even with all of her insecurities, can’t deny. Men like Roman don’t look at women like that unless they want them in that way. “The things I want to do to you….”

And once again, he’s affirming and practically repeating everything he’s assured her of several times now.

He wants her. 

“I’m going to make you believe it.” Wetting her lips, she watches Roman take her hand in his. “Come here.” 

He walks them over to the opposite side of his room where the black, full body mirror rests against the wall. His hands are on her hips, positioning her so that she’s standing directly in front of him, her back pressed into his chest. 

“Keep your eyes open.” His voice is commanding but still calm enough where it doesn’t unnerve her. “Spread your legs.” Solana is certain Roman can feel the way her body instantly tenses, because he’s kissing the shell of her ear, reassuring her. “Relax, baby. I won’t touch you there until you’re ready. Just trust me.”

And she does.

Maybe more than she’s ever trusted anyone.

It’s why she moves her legs apart so that her thick thighs are no longer rubbing against each other.

Again, he’s comforting her, “trust me…” Solana is briefly confused as to why he’s repeating himself when his hand is on her backside, squeezing in a way that makes her head fall back against his chest. “I love your ass.” She makes a sound, almost too low to hear when he moves his hands to her chest, big, strong hands cupping her breast. “But, I especially fucking love these.”

She moves her much smaller hands over his. For what reason, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she nearly groans when his thumb flicks over her hardened areolas through the fabric of her swimsuit. 

“Roman….” Despite his clear directive, it’s hard to keep her eyes open when there’s so much coursing through her body.

“You know why I said your name when I was with her?” Not really, but also yes. It’s difficult for Solana to think straight with him touching her like this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settling at the bottom of her belly. 

His mouth is back on her, kissing her jawline as he continues to caress her breast, alternating between light massaging and caressing her nipples. “Because I was imagining she was you. Because it’s you I want to be inside.”

Solana’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between open and closed, the soles of her feet  almost numb as standing suddenly feels much more difficult than it should be. There’s an unfamiliar ache in between her legs that has her thighs pressing back against each other. 

Her body is on fire, and despite this intimate touching, she has no desire to push him away. Doen’t feel shackled and stuck in a way that’s reminiscent of her trauma. She wants his touch on her. 

His deep, alluring voice is in her ear, watching every single one of her erotic reactions through the mirror. “There’s not a single part of you that I don’t want to touch….” Her breathing is labored and heavy almost as he moves his hand and trails his finger down the valley of her breast. “To feel…..” Her eyes are fluttering as his hand moves down to her stomach, hers shooting to rest on top of his, an unconscious effort to keep him from feeling the part of her that she’s always felt 

self-conscious about. Only for her to cry out when he lightly squeezes her stomach, rolls and all. “To taste….”

It should make her mortified, for him to be grabbing so freely a part of her that she used to cry over from embarrassment. But, it doesn’t. She’s simply trying to remain strong enough to remain on her own two feet.

Her body is on fire, and there’s this pressure building in her core. Intense but oh so delicious. A brand new sensation.

Whimpering, she moves her hand to his wrist. “Roman, I—”

“I know,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “That’s what I want, baby.”  He moves his mouth over to her clavicle, tongue wetting her burning skin. “Want you to feel good….”

Good is an understatement. She feels completely overwhelmed in a way she didn’t think possible.

 And it only intensifies when his fingers create circles across her lower belly. Tears are pooling in her eyes, the throbbing in her belly and most intimate part increasing with every touch and every word that leaves his mouth. 

Solana also recognizes the wetness pooling between her legs. Something else she’s never experienced. Not like this. She’s been able to become aroused before, but never to this extent.

Not to this intensity. 

The pressure feels too much, too heavy, but she can’t seem to find the words to express as such while Roman continues to talk her through it.

“The next time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me.” His lips are ghosting the shell of her ear, his fingers continuing to trickle across the lower skin of her belly. “My mouth on you. Me inside of you.” 

She gasps, loud enough for it to almost echo throughout the room and almost bounce off the walls. “Oh my god….”

She feels just about ready to explode when his other hand has moved to her inner thighs, long fingers dancing across her skin and prying her thighs apart. She’s almost certain her essence has made her way past her bottoms and coats the tips of his fingers.  “I’m gonna be your first.” His words puncture her resolve, but it’s the latter statement that completely destroys it. “And your last.”

Solana cries out, stomach in waves as she squeezes his wrist, intense pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet if not for his strong arms around her. Solana feels partially discombobulated as he whispers things in her ear that she’s far too overwhelmed to make out.

She’s not sure how long she’s standing there, doesn’t know how long he’s holding her, helping her land back down to earth. She just knows there’s a pulsing between her legs that she’s never had before. An aftermath almost. 

The aftermath at what had to have been a climax. 

It takes a few minutes for her to finally be able to formulate words. She looks up at him, trying to not think too much of the way he circled his finger around the spillage between her thighs. It’s enough to make her womanhood start to pulse again. “how did—-I’ve never—”

Roman looks down at her, eyes almost narrowed with pure curiosity as she asks, “have you never had an orgasm before?”

Cheeks still flamed from what just occurred but also slight embarrassment at her answer, she explains, “I’ve—I’ve tried before, but I just—I couldn’t.”

He actually looks surprised but simply brings his hand to her chin, kissing her softly. “Well, it damn sure won’t be your last.” He gently bites down on her bottom lip before backing away. “Be outside in 10.” 

It takes a second for her to realize what he’s talking about. She’d completely forgotten what even kicked off all of that.

Watching him leave with her t-shirt, it’s only when he closes the door and she’s alone that something he said finally settles in.

Something that somehow gives her a sense of pleasure more enjoyable than even his talented touch. 

“I’m gonna be your first.” 

Just thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. For an entirely different reason. For so long, she felt so broken and devastated at having her virginity so brutally ripped away. To have it stolen from her before she could even understand what sex was.

And no, she can never truly get it back.

But this….Roman can give her. That first time of actually having a choice.

And that means more to her than he could ever know.

She cares for him more than she’s certain he knows.

And truth be told, Solana is starting to wonder if care is still a strong enough word to describe what she feels for a certain Roman Reigns.

________

After cleaning herself and gathering her bearings, Solana finds Roman out back already in the pool swimming laps as Dulce sits on the side just watching him, her tail wagging. She always seems so excited around him.

Taking advantage of him being underwater and not aware of her presence, Solana moves quickly over to the steps, faltering for a bit before stepping in just enough to where the water brushes against her knees. That’s when the anxiety starts. Her stomach begins knotting.

It’s also when Roman comes up from under, and she’s briefly distracted by just how good he looks while quite literally doing nothing out of the ordinary. She watches him swim over to her, one hand pushing back some of hair, the other reaching for her. 

She hesitates, and he sees it, gently reminding.

“I’ve got you….”

Solana just looks at him. He’s yet to not come through on that promise made time and time again. An oath almost, in every single situation where he’s asserted it.

It’s why she finds herself accepting his hand as she descends further into the water. And just as she recognizes her anxiety heightening along with the water that’s brushing against her chest, Roman tugs her against him. 

Gasping, her hands naturally move onto his shoulders, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

“Roman….” She’s looking from side to side as he moves them farther away from the steps. “I—”

“Can you swim?” His question both makes sense and serves as a brief distraction. 

“Y–yes, but I haven’t done it in years.” He’s still moving them though, and that still makes her nervous as more distance is created between her and a way to escape without actually getting under the water. “Roman, I—I can’t—”

“I know.” His assurance is soft, gentle almost. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Solana.”

And she swallows, because there’s an undertone to his statement. Like there’s another meaning that maybe one or both of them isn’t entirely ready to come to terms with.

It’s when they stop moving, she realizes that he wasn’t just aimlessly moving around. He wanted to bring them over to the stool within the pool that he sits on. It’s only then she really becomes cognizant of the fact that she’s straddling him as well as just how close her body is against his.

Not that he seems to mind.

His gaze on her is both distracting and tantalizing. She wants him to never look at her with such desire at the same time she wants him to never look away.

It’s….a strange experience.

Needing there to be some type of conversation, she goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “How….how was your day?”

Roman chuckles. “The same as most.” Solana makes an active effort to ignore how his hands remain planted on her ass, giving just the slightest pressure that makes her softly scratch at his taut skin. “How was yours?”

Eventful. She starts to tell him about Emma and Brandi, but that would somehow lead into a conversation about Solo and his odd behavior recently. And Roman already deals with enough. She doesn’t want to add onto his plate. 

She can handle that on her own.

It’s why she decides to share the most exciting news, a smile growing on her face. “I pinned Bayley today during my training.”

“Did you?” Something tells her that he already knew about this, that he was made aware of this occurrence prior to this moment. Regardless, she’s thankful for him trying to fake surprise. For him trying to give her the satisfaction of being the first to tell him. “Damn. They told me you’ve gotten good. That you’re fast.”

She nods, smile dimming a bit. “I do feel a little bad about how I did it though.”

“Don’t.” He’s quick to dismiss her concerns. “Bayley’s taken much worse in the ring.” After seeing Bayley fight on Night of Champions, she doesn’t doubt that one bit. “There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

Her anxiety returns at his ending statement. “O–okay.”

Roman seems to take a minute before explaining, “I think we need to expand your training.” Her confusion is evident and expected as he clarifies with all the preparation in the world for a less than pleased response. “You need to start training with a man.”

Deep down, she already knows his answer before she asks. But, she has to do it anyway. “Like with you?” Open to it, she even suggests, “or the twins?”

Safe people.

As expected, he shakes his head. “No. It needs to be someone you’re not familiar with. Not like you are with me or them.” She looks away, eyes focused on the spotlight on the opposite end of the pool. “It’s only to help you. You can fight now, that’s good. But, you need to learn how to fight someone you don’t feel comfortable with, because that’s the reality of our world.” He elaborates, seemingly pulling her closer to him. “I’m never going to let you be in a position where you have to defend yourself like that against a man, but it’s good for you to know regardless.”

That helps a bit. She believes him. Believes that he’ll never let her be in that space ever again.

But, there’s a ‘what if’ thought that she can’t push away. Because nothing in life is promised or final. Anything and nothing can happen. She could very well find herself one day on the opposite end of her brother, and the thought of him having that hold and power over her makes her sick.

Should that day ever roll around again, she wants it to be different. She wants to be different.

She wants to be able to fight back.

“I’ll do it.” She agrees in a quiet tone and goes on to briefly explain her answer. “I think—I think I need to do it for me.”

Roman simply nods and acknowledges her acceptance with a single word. “Okay.”

Solana is grateful he doesn’t follow up with additional questions. She doesn’t really want to talk about that, doesn’t want to participate in conversations that bring up old, painful memories. “Can I at least meet them before we start training?”

“Of course.” That provides another layer of relief. “Are you still alright with the Gala?”

And this time, she nods. A few days away, she’s already figured out her look for the evening, courtesy of Bayley and Naomi. Biting on her bottom lip, she finds her fingers moving across his chest. “I—I got my dress.” He makes a sound followed up with his mouth moving to her neck. “I think—I think you’ll like it.”

She struggles to keep her eyes open when he starts kissing on her wet skin. “I like everything you wear.” She smiles. “You thought about what you want for your birthday?”

 Once again, it’s hard to talk with him touching her like this. “No, cause I don’t–”

He chuckles against her. “Still on that shit, I see.” And before she can push him on that, he informs with all of the textbook coyness, “it’s alright, I’ve got it figured out.”

That makes her push lightly on his chest, to force his gaze on her. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” His words are intentionally vague and don’t manage to answer her question. It’s expected, not entirely out of character for him, but still a bit irritating. 

She sighs. The last thing she wants is for this man to go out of his way for her more than he already has. “Roman…

“Solana, I’ve got you in my arms. Half naked.” His eyes take on a dark, lustful glint as he focuses on her mouth. “I really don’t feel like talking, baby….”

He brings his lips back onto hers, but it’s hard to get too into the kiss when her mind is so focused on one little word. 

Baby….

A nickname he seems to use with her more and more, the increasing usage doing nothing for the butterflies every time he calls her as such. But this time, this time the butterflies are for something more, something different.

Something she’s not even sure she should be telling him right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage. 

It doesn’t stop her from saying his name, her tone serious enough to alert him that she has something to say.

“Roman….” He lifts his head, gaze focused on her, and Solana finds herself momentarily captivated by him. He’s so handsome. So attractive. The embodiment of strength. In so many different ways. Licking her lips, it falls out almost accidentally but also with all of the determination. “I’m going to give you an heir.”

His expression falters only for a second. He’s so good at maintaining composure at all times that it takes her off guard. His voice is lowered. “Solana, I told you, I’ll handle—”

“I know, but—but, it’s not because of that.” And maybe a part of it is, maybe she feels guilty that she’s failing to do the one thing he agreed to marry her for. Maybe it’s out of her trauma. Maybe it’s a sense of obligation. Whatever the potential contributors, there’s no denying the largest chunk comes from a place of pure individualistic want. “I never thought that I could, but….but I can.” This part she knows to be true. Solana never envisioned a life for herself where she could withstand the touch of a man, the desire to have a man touch her. The ability to be intimate. But Roman has changed all that. “I know I can, so I will.” When he says nothing, she adds on, starting to feel a bit unsure of herself. “And we don’t have to now, per se, but….we will. I—I want to do that for you.”

For us.

He still says nothing, but Solana can see there’s a million thoughts floating through her head. She’s prepared for him to push back, to maybe chastise her or scold her for whatever reason. In her experience, men have never really needed solid reasons to be upset with her.

He does none of that though.

Instead, she seems something gleam in his brown eyes, something she can’t name but feels is eerily similar to what she feels whenever she looks at him.

“Non sei quello che mi aspettavo.” Solana has no idea what he’s saying, but with the way he holds her, the way he hikes her higher onto his waist so she’s almost looking down at him, wet hands moving to his face, she doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really need to know. “Ma credo che tu sia esattamente quello di cui ho bisogno…."

—----------

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Xavier smiles at the hint of nervousness in his son’s voice. Any other time, he’d scold him for weakness. But when plotting against the Bloodline, especially Roman Reigns, one can never be too careful.

“Not necessarily, but I do know your sister. She’s weak. Blinded by love.” Just saying the word leaves a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Your mother fed her that shit, and now she holds onto it. It’s how I know she won’t let him do anything.”

Wes’s dark gaze rakes over his father’s still recovering state. “And yet he still put us both in the hospital.”

Xavier glares, voice icy. He hates being reminded of failure. “Watch it, son.”

We looks away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his body. “I just think there is another way—”

“Have you heard from your sister? Found a way to get into contact with her without going through Reins?” Xavier already knows the answer but wants his son to recognize the stupidity of his stance. “This is the only way, and it’ll work. Trust me.”

Wes is still quiet, but Xavier is unbothered. He’s instead focused on his phone that vibrates three times, his lock screen showing a set of messages from an unknown number. And it’s in reading the messages that his day goes from good to so much fucking better.

“Well, I’ll be damned….” 

Wes notices the change in his father’s mood and gestures with his chin. “Who is it?”

“Not sure.” He reaches the phone to his son. “But, we’re definitely going to find out.”

And it’s when reading the text that Wes also smiles, the same wicked scheming oscillating in his father’s head traveling over to him. 

“Got you now, you little bitch….” Wes reads over the words once more, basking in the relief and potential this new development will provide.

Unknown: I believe we may have a mutual problem that needs to be….taken care of.

Unknown: Your daughter. Solana.

Unknown: Let’s meet.

—----------

translation: “you’re not what i expected, but i think you’re exactly what i need.”

[simplyraeblue]

hunter and hunted (jjk)

ღ first attempt at short stories on tumblr. bear with me. ღ

college (summer) break au: a fic in this y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, eventual smut warning as I'm planning for this to come in parts

index part one | part two

part one word count: 1,266

“thanks for letting me stay over here this summer, Yuj. I really didn’t want to go home over the break but I couldn’t stay in the dorm either so you’re a lifesaver.” you tell your best friend while following him up the stairs to his front door. both of your arms are full of groceries, same as Yuji’s. the first store run of the summer. 

Yuji looks back at you, giving his usual wide grin. “of course y/n, you know you’re always welcome. you’ll just have to excuse my brothers, I’m sure they’ll be keeping to themselves but if they cause you any trouble I give you permission to punch them.”

you laugh, but you know his concerns are mostly valid. 

Yuji has two older brothers; Sukuna and Choso. the latter is always keeping to himself, blaring loud metal music in his room (which is always almost pitch black), and exclusively communicates in grunts ninety percent of the time. the former… well… Sukuna is the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet. however, that doesn’t stop you from feeling your heart stop when he’s in the room. how can someone who's an absolute dick walk around looking like that? 

you’ve had a crush on Sukuna since high school, when he was a senior and you were an underclassman. of course he never paid you any mind. and when he did, it was to pester you and try to get a rise out of you. [little did you know he enjoyed that]

Yuji held open the front door for you, allowing you to walk into the house and hurry yourself to the kitchen. you’d been successful carrying a load of groceries so far; until you see Sukuna standing shirtless in the kitchen drinking a glass of water. 

all of the groceries drop out of your hands almost immediately. “for fuck’s sake, y/n are you really that weak?” Sukuna yells, walking over to try to clean up the mess you made.

“it’s not my fault you scared me you asshat, I came around the corner and you were just standing there quiet as a mouse.” you snap at him, trying to stop the blush from creeping onto your cheeks. 

“woah, y/n that’s my fault I shouldn’t have asked you to carry so much!” Yuji joins the two of you in the kitchen, setting his groceries down and proceeding to help. He angles his head towards the stairs before shouting, “Choso, get down here it’s time your turn to make dinner!”

you hadn’t even notice the music coming from upstairs. how Choso’s ears don’t bleed you’ll never know. even from a separate floor your ears are almost in pain; but you guess that could be from the embarrassment you were already feeling. soon after Yuji hollered, you hear heavy footsteps coming down, before you see him. Dark, messy twin buns and his signature face tattoo… you could almost admit that the tattoo was attractive, but it didn’t compare to the ones all over Sukuna’s body. it’s a surprise that Yuji hasn’t gotten one yet. 

“hey, y/n.” Choso says to you in a low tone, so low you barely catch it. all you can do is nod while still trying to catch up with the chaos of the groceries. “Yuji says you’ll be crashing with us for the summer, is that right?”

“yep. didn’t want to go home but couldn’t very well sleep on the streets, y’know?”

“I think you’d feel right at home on the streets.” Sukua chuckles, and you proceed to slap the back of his head. “hey! physical violence!”

“oh yeah, I told y/n that she has full permission to hit the both of you if you cause any trouble.” Yuji warns them, causing Choso to raise his eyebrows in direction like he’s doubting I could ever cause any harm. “and just saying, she does a have right hook when she tries.”

-

after dinner was done, you volunteered to clean the dishes since Choso cooked and Yuji bought the groceries. it also didn’t seem like Sukuna was going to speak up and you were the guest after all. you even tried to ignore Sukuna’s “because she’s a girl” comment he made under his breath when Yuji tried to get him to take over for you. 

Choso and Yuji stay downstairs with you while you clean up, both of them talking about their plans for the summer and everything they want to do. you don’t hesitate to chime in on occasion, but the only responses you get are from Yuji. eventually, it’s you and Yuji left downstairs, with both brothers shutting off in their rooms. 

“I’m gonna take the couch tonight, okay y/n? tomorrow I’ll work on getting the spare bedroom ready but for now just take over my room. there’s a bathroom right next to it, but just be warned, you do share a wall with the bathroom and the other wall with Choso.” Yuji explains as you yawn. 

“so what you’re saying is I should pick up some earplugs.” you remark to him, making the both of you laugh. you bid him goodnight, before heading up the stairs to find Yuji’s room. it wasn’t your first time sleeping here, but every other time you were almost certainly black out drunk and never remembered getting up the stairs in the first place. 

after getting settled in Yuji’s bedroom, you grab the extra towel he gave you and your pajamas before going to get a shower. you take a quick scan of the second floor, and curse under your breath. of course there’s only one bathroom upstairs. before you can knock on the bathroom door to be sure, the door to the right of Yuji’s opens suddenly, startling you until you see Choso in his pajamas staring at you. 

“I think Sukuna is in there, but do you need to get in there next?” Choso asks you, rubbing his head. you nod silently, earning a sigh from him. “well, I just need to brush my teeth so would you be okay if I went first? I’ll be in and out.” 

“of course, this is your house after all.” you answer, just as the bathroom door handle starts to turn. steam rolls out once the door is opened, and you’re face to face with Sukuna in only a towel with water still dripping off of his hair. 

“move.” the eldest sibling grumbles, nudging past you to get to his room. you can’t help but let your eyes follow him before he gets to his door. 

for a split second, he turns his head to meet your eyes. if you had blinked you would have missed it. then as soon as it happened he was slamming his door. 

heat crept over your ears and cheeks, but you tried to shake it off. Choso brushed past you to get into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and you took a deep breath. you stood waiting, but Choco didn’t shut the bathroom door so you just looked around and at the ceiling instead of being weird and watching him practice oral hygiene. 

“all yours y/n.”

“thanks.” your gaze ends up following Choso back to his bedroom door, mostly just making sure you would have some privacy once you shut the bathroom. and yet… there he was. stopping just short of closing his door before looking up at you, his dark eyes blending it with the darker line tattooed across his face. 

you shut the bathroom door behind you, taking a deep breath once again. what the hell was that feeling in your chest?

-

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER V - paraprosexia

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, , manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, mentions of feminism, spanking, kidnapping, drug use, alcohol, manhandling, mentions of murder, mentions of abuse, abduction

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER IV CHAPTER VI

paraprosexia (n.) constant distraction

The rhythmic hum of the Cadillac’s engine created a soothing backdrop as the vehicle glided along the quiet road. The silence between them was thick, pregnant with unspoken words and emotions. Yoongi has decided that he isn't done peeling away the layers shrouding his fiancée’s thoughts, and for the last time, before they become each other’s for this lifetime and many others, he wishes to have a peek into her soul.

“We never concluded our earlier conversation,” his voice laced with a gentle yet probing tone. He wished to hear the truth before he could tell her his own. Yoongi was trying to stay focused on the road, as he decided to drive them himself, selfishly wanting another private moment with her before they part to get ready for the wedding and see each other at the temple’s altar.

She took a deep breath, her voice soft yet resolute. “What do you want to hear?” She asked him the same question she did to Namjoon, but she knew he would pry even more than his younger brother.

“What haunts you, my dear?” Y/N’s eyes met his for a brief moment, a mix of vulnerability and determination shining within them. He thought that perhaps if he could get her to confide in him, he would solve whatever obstacle is keeping her from trying to take him inside her heart.

Y/N looked down at her fingers “Namjoon asked me the same question, you know.” He hummed in agreement encouraging her to continue. If she hadn’t confessed to Namjoon, she might have to him. “I wanted my life to take a different route.” She did not lie, this was very truthful, but not the whole truth.

“A rather enigmatic statement, my dear” Y/N knew that, and she wished it could stay vague. “You were born with the knowledge that one day you’ll become someone’s wife and I find it hard to believe that you would be able to live a life out of the syndicate—”

She didn’t shy away, fully realising his words were truthful to some degree. Her gaze directed down at her intertwined fingers. “You presume right,” she admitted.

“—It’s maybe where your dreams take you, but I promise that even if you would be able to run away from all this, you would not survive.” The dim lighting inside the car played upon the contours of his face, highlighting the sharp angles and furrowed brows that spoke of the weight he carried upon his shoulders.

“Why would you think so?” She asked, curious what he has to say.

“Everyone knows who you are. You wouldn’t even blink and I would know exactly where you are—” he begun “—in the best scenario, of course, the worst would be the Yakuza clan, or any other syndicate got to you first—”

“You mean all your enemies?” she stumbled out of her.

“Yes?” He questioned.

“Is this what you’re scared of? My enemies?” He didn’t hesitate to ask. She kept her silence for a moment. “You’re safer with me than alone, at least remember that.”

“—it’s not. If you would want me on the brink of death I would be already there.” Y/N cut him off. Part of her is relieved that she did not end up being married off to the Yakuza that is well known for their strict and beastly behaviour against women. The other part of her is in constant fear.

“What is it then?” He asked softly. Yoongi wanted her to know that she could talk to him freely, without judgment. He longs to be one with her, body, and soul, desperately trying to make her confined in him as his lover.

“It’s—” It was hard for Y/N to open up to him, she feels vulnerable, “—the uncertainty, the feeling that I’m being swept away by a current I have no control over.” Y/N’s gaze wandered outside the window, the passing scenery a blur of shadows and fleeting glimpses of moonlit snow-covered fields. Looking at him at this second would be too much to bear for her.

“During college, I just got used to being autonomous,” she continued. Yoongi carefully listened to her confession while he was gripping the wheel and focusing on the road.

“But you knew that you were still bound by duty and loyalty.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She knew very well what awaited her after her studies, yet still hoped that it would turn out differently.

“I did, but I didn’t want to lose that kind of life either,” she said softly. Autonomy has a huge role in one’s life. Y/N got a taste of what it is to live a normal life, away from bloodshed, clan wars, torture and the endless screams that echoed through the mansions; negotiations and forced marriages. All that she wished to not associate with.

As the car continued to roll through the night their conversation was not near its end. “I’m just not ready to be someone’s wife nor mother, and not on the head council of the clan,” she exclaimed. Yoongi sighed, pulling to stop at the side of the road, letting the engine still roar. He wanted to look into her beautiful eyes.

The scarred leader turned to her petite form sitting in the passenger seat. “You won’t believe me now, but I do understand where this comes from—” he reached out, his hand gently touching hers, providing a comforting reassurance “—you’re young, and this feeling will pass away, all the doubts too, just let me show you what a good life I can give you,” their eyes locked.

“The path we are destined to tread can lead to unexpected joys and fulfilment. I promise you’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.” He stressed out.

“It’s all so easy for you to say, you lived, and I had three years. I wanted to see more of what life could be. I wanted to see the world—”

“I can give you the world, princess,” he said.

“As long as I stay,” she said, her voice shaking. Yoongi slowly nodded in agreement, caressing her cheek. “Let me love you Y/N—”

“Everything alright, Kkangpae?” Said a subdued voice outside the vehicle. Yoongi opened the door slightly, replying with a simple ‘We needed a moment’. And with that, he gets back on the road, getting closer and closer to her biggest fear.

The clock’s hands had long passed the threshold of midnight when they arrived in front of the imposing hotel. Accepting his hand as she stepped out of the car, her gaze swept over the swarm of men and women moving feverishly around the temple’s grounds, getting everything ready for the grand wedding.

“By morning, everything will be in place, Kkangpae,” a voice broke through the haze of her thoughts. She turned her attention to her cousin, Kai, whom she hadn’t seen for some time, giving Y/N a light smile before continuing talking to Yoongi.

Walking by Yoongi’s side with a demeanour as composed as a statue, Y/N seemed to be a mere spectator in the bustling landscape of preparations. She could feel his burning touch on the small of her back.

“Unnie!!” She recognised the voice like it was yesterday she heard it. She opened her arms, a welcoming embrace for the younger sister she hadn’t seen in too long. Their bond was immediate, and Y/N clung to Xiaoli, a mix of protectiveness and adoration welling within her, caressing her hair, smiling while doing so. She missed her little sister dearly. It was just a few months, and Y/N could already sense how much she changed. Wang Xiaoli was the most beautiful girl Y/N had ever seen in her life. Freshly turning eighteen, she could see the newfound aura of femininity.

“Why are you still awake, pumpkin?” Y/N’s voice was infused with a comforting warmth. The endearment was as familiar to them as the air they breathed. Y/N could not help but always baby her little sister whenever she had the chance.

“I was having a conversation with Taehyung-oppa.” She smiled at her sweetly. Xiaoli’s response was tinged with a hint of excitement, a radiance in her eyes that had been absent before. Breaking into Korean instead of their native Chinese. Y/N’s own transition to speaking in Korean had been a necessary evolution, therefore Y/N did not realise that her sister is not speaking their native tongue right away. She did not expect Xiaoli to be comfortable conversing in Korean, not speaking of the hanbok that was hiding her figure. But with the name of one of the seven, she understood why her sister voluntarily spoke to her in the tongue of her captor.

“Did you?” She glanced at Yoongi who still stood next to her, talking to Kai.

“Oh my God, I apologise!” Xiaoli’s exclamation sliced through the air, her sudden realization causing her to pivot toward Yoongi.

“Good late night, Kkangpae Min,” the words flowed from her sister’s lips, accompanied by a respectful bow. Y/N’s attention remained on the scene unfolding before her. Watching Yoongi extend his hand, which she took into her small ones, bowing her head once more. Yoongi enjoyed being at the top of the world. And he knew he would go even higher tomorrow night.

“Miss Wang, how are you this late evening?” he asked politely.

“Very well, Kkangpae Min. I can be with my sister again. I’m very happy.” Xiaoli couldn’t stop smiling. There was a big difference between Xiaoli and Y/N — Xiaoli’s acceptance and Y/N’s defiance. Xiaoli never dreamt of leaving the syndicate. She was very eager to get married, have kids, and be a wife.

Y/N wanted to marry one day. But she longed to have the freedom to decide when, where and whom she would marry. And apart from Y/N, Xiaoli forgave more easily than Y/N. It was in her nature that Y/N wanted to protect.

She wanted her sister to be happy with whatever life she chose to live. If she wanted a life like her, she would do anything to help her do so. But Xiaoli never understood Y/N’s desire for freedom. Y/N understood that Xiaoli never got the taste of it in the first place. Her sister graciously accepted her faith as a mafia wife while Y/N felt oppressed to do so.

However, there was something off about her. Y/N had a third sense that something isn’t as it should be. 

“Do you think I could speak to my sister privately, Kkangpae Min?” Xiaoli asked suddenly.

“Don’t be long. Y/N needs to sleep well tonight.” As if she would be able to fall asleep altogether.

“Thank you, Kkangpae Min.” She bowed down again, Xiaoli’s grasp on her hand was firm, tugging her toward the sunroom where memories lingered.

“Y/N?” They stopped for a moment, hearing Yoongi’s voice. She reluctantly turned herself back to him, awaiting his next words.

“Yes?” She said softly, scared that he would change his mind and wouldn’t let them have a sisterly talk after so long.

“Come to my office before you go to sleep, baby.” He replied with a low tone. It seemed to her that he still wanted to talk to her about something. Y/N nodded before her sister continued walking away.

“Yamamoto’s are apparently still furious,” her sister’s words hung in the air like a chilling wind, carrying with them a sense of impending doom. After the door to the sunroom that was now illuminated by moonlight instead, closed, Xiaoli spoke freely. Y/N had expected nothing less from the Yamamoto clan; Yoongi’s bold move had stirred a hornet’s nest, and he showed no remorse for his actions.

“Furious enough to ask for compensation.” Xiaoli continued. Y/N’s eyes widened, dread seeping into her veins like a slow poison.

“Compensation?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

“I believe you understand exactly what I mean,” Xiaoli’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Being married off to a Yakuza is worse than death for women in this world. Out of all scenarios that ran through Y/N’s mind when she was deciding whether to run or not, she indeed did not foresee this one.

“I won’t let Father do that to you, Xiaoli.” Y/N could feel the anger bubbling in her. Y/N’s heart burned with anger and guilt; her rebellion against the clan’s traditions had not only endangered her own fate but cast a shadow over her sister’s future. They are desperately trying to plot their victory which became obscure after she got engaged to the Min clan’s leader. She had been defiant for her own sake, for her freedom, and in doing so, she had unwittingly put her sister’s happiness on the line.

Tears shimmered in Xiaoli’s eyes as she clung to her sister, seeking solace in her embrace. “I love him Y/N.”

She was clutching her older sister’s dress tightly. Y/N needed to think, she needed to find a solution. Little did she know, her sister knew very well how to back out of this ordeal, and she was ready to do it willingly.

“Love who, honey?” Y/N’s voice caught in her throat, her heart a mix of fear and understanding. She knew the path that her sister was treading, the dangerous game she was playing.

“Taehyung-oppa.” Y/N was afraid of that. She did not know Kim Taehyung that well, only from Yoongi’s talking about this very important man.

“Does he intend to marry you?” The words were heavy with implication. A timid nod was Xiaoli’s response, her eyes fixed on Y/N’s face, as if seeking approval or absolution.

“He plans to. But we need Father’s and Kkangpae Min’s blessing,” Xiaoli’s words were a tremulous confession, a secret laid bare in the moonlit room. ‘Make it happen’. Y/N kept her thoughts mingled in her head for some quiet moments.

“Sister, please,” Xiaoli begged Y/N. Xiaoli was head over heels for the older male. Taehyung was so charming, and she was too young to understand why he took interest in her in the first place.

“Kkangpae Min is in love with you.” Xiaoli’s words struck Y/N with an intensity that left her breathless “He won’t deny you.” Xiaoli’s voice held a conviction that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t realise the true nature of his affection.  

She understands why she’s reaching to her before she would to her father, mother or Yoongi himself. Once she would be rejected there would be no making it better. There are no second negotiations in criminal syndicates. Her sister knew the intricate dynamics of the Min clan, and understood the power that Y/N held over their leader.

A maelstrom of emotions churned within Y/N – anger, longing, defiance, and a twinge of something else, something she dared not name. 

“He was very angry with me only recently Xiaoli.” Y/N decided not to hurt her sister’s feelings by revealing that their love is probably only a little dot in a bigger scheme. Xiaoli furrowed her brows suddenly.

“Are you still going by your stubborn feminist ideals, Y/N?” She raised her voice, surprising her older sister as she needed to take a step back.

“Xiaoli.” Y/N warned her, trying to keep calm.

“No Y/N! You’re being reckless, and I even have to say that.” Y/N could not believe her words.

“Is this your opinion or Taehyung-oppa’s, hm?” She crossed her arms awaiting the younger female’s answer.

“Everyone’s Y/N. You don’t even realise how lucky you got when leader Min took you in—”

“Took me in?! He let Chan-yeol drug me and betray me to get his way.”

“Least you ain’t marrying that murderer anymore.” That argument was ultimate for Y/N. She could not disagree with that. One girl already died under his hands, and Y/N was almost second in a row if she would marry him.

“See? You cannot deny that. He saved you from him. You’re free, because of leader Min. The least you can do is to be a little grateful.” Her sister spat out.

“That man brainwashed you; this isn’t you.” Said Y/N.

“No Y/N. I just accepted his love and reciprocated it. You should finally receive what God has given to you before someone will die.”

“No one will die, Xiaoli.” Y/N’s voice was full of vulnerability.

“I love you, sister. I do. I just wish you would see this as a blessing. You’re marrying someone who loves you.” There was not a night Y/N would not think of this possibility. She could not decide whether this was a blessing or her worst nightmare. But it still pinched her heart that even her sister didn’t see why she kept trying to find her way out.

“But as I know you. Someone will have to die for you to know your place.” The contrast of her sister’s demeanour now and a minute ago was setting Y/N off.

And this was Y/N’s biggest fear. Her mind was a battleground of conflicting thoughts, torn between loyalty to protect those who could not protect themselves and the desire to be free from the chains of forced marriage.

Xiaoli’s plea to consider the proposal from Kim Taehyung, someone who supposedly loved her younger sister, left Y/N feeling both grateful and resentful. From one perspective her sister would live hopefully happily, safely and near Y/N. They would not have to part their ways yet again.

From the other perspective, Y/N would possibly give in to Yoongi’s manipulative tactics as she refused to believe he didn’t possess a piece of knowledge about this. Deliberately not telling her. Y/N paced back and forth, her heart pounding loudly in her chest.

“Y/N…I apologise, I—” Xiaoli spoke after she sensed her sister was in distress.

“I want to make decisions myself, Xiaoli,” Y/N’s admission was a whisper, a confession that she had shared with no one else “—I want to have a say in how my life will turn out—” Something she was afraid to tell Yoongi or Namjoon.

“I wanted to have a choice.” She cried out. Xiaoli slowly approached her again.

“All you have to do is give in Y/N. Everything will be fine,” she cooed at Y/N.

“Why didn’t you write to me Xiaoli,” a sudden thought came to Y/N’s mind.

“Taehyung-oppa and leader Min thought it would be better as you needed to adjust.” Y/N could not help but desperately laugh at her words.

“You adjusted rather quickly.” Y/N scoffed, eyeing her physique clothed in pink flowery hanbok.

“Because I knew that this way, I could stay near you.” Y/N breathed in and out, trying to think clearly.

A sigh escaped her lips, a heavy exhale “If your love is genuine, if this is truly what you desire,” her voice wavered, uncertainty lacing her words, “then I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.” Y/N was willing to push her desires and longing for freedom if it meant that her sister would be happy and safe. However, Y/N knows she won’t have to persuade Yoongi. It’s her father’s approval that will be hard to obtain.

Her sister’s embrace tightened, a silent gratitude passing between them as tears mingled in the moonlit room. “But I want to know everything I missed, pumpkin.”

The two sisters spent the next hour catching up on all the moments they had missed in each other’s lives until it was time to say good night.

Y/N’s heart was heavy with emotions as she replayed the conversations she had with Xiaoli in her mind. She also recalled her deal with Namjoon back in the sanctuary. She had only recently bid her sister goodnight, yet the prospect of facing the scarred leader again loomed before her like an impending storm. The older sister longed to collect her thoughts a bit more before she had to face him again. For the last time before Y/N will become his wife, in the name of God.

Y/N made her way through the dimly lit halls of the luxurious railway hotel, straight back to him. Her steps were measured, each footfall echoing in the hushed ambiance of the hallways. She could hear soft notes of a classical composition she for sure heard before but couldn’t name. The calming cracking of the wood in the fireplace got louder and louder while she was quietly approaching the man sitting with his glass of hard liquor in a low armchair, manspreading — some parts of his three-piece suit scattered on his desk chair. His gaze remained fixed upon the fire’s dance, the play of shadows flickering across his face.

She could see his exhaustion, yet he was waiting alongside another glass of liquor that was placed on top of the fireplace, where he left it for her. Her approach did not go unnoticed. His gaze, deep and intense, met hers as she drew closer. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions as she saw the tenderness in his gaze. There was a softness to his features, a vulnerability that he rarely showed to others.

As she accepted the glass of liquor he had prepared, Y/N lowered herself into a chair opposite him. The air between them seemed charged with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“You knew?” She asked finally, tears welling up in her eyes yet again. His presence only made her feel everything at once. His calm demeanour contrasted starkly with the tempest that brewed within her.

“I did,” his expression was calm and attentive.

“Why keep it a secret?” She said more as a statement than a question.

His gaze did not waver, his response forthcoming. “I wanted you to focus on us, sweetling,” his voice was both tender and unapologetic. Y/N’s lips parted, the words of reproach she had prepared faltering on her tongue.

“You want me to be a Buin, yet you won’t even ask for my blessing. It’s my little sister Yoongi.”

“And that my love, is why I’m letting you decide this. Will that union be beneficial to us, Buin?”

“I’m too biased to think of your clan matters, Kkangpae.” She clapped back at him, speaking honestly.

“And by only looking at you, it was decided way before I got to know.”

The young man was looking at his future spouse in amusement. “Actually, I planned to arrange a marriage between her and Namjoon, but Taehyung swept her away it seems.” Her eyes snapped back at him. The threat that her sister would be married off to Namjoon was loud and clear even before. Namjoon was a decent man for proposing a deal to her, but Y/N wouldn’t stop being careful around that man, nonetheless let Yoongi give him Xiaoli.

“Therefore, I think the cards tossed themselves without me touching them, but still, this will be your call.” Y/N was eyeing him with suspicion. He never put any deciding matter in her hands before, nor did he share that much from clan matters, even when he suggested she could be involved as much as she wished.

“I want your word that he is a good man.” She said finally. With her glass in hand, she sipped the fiery liquid, scrunching her face at the taste. “Promise me, Yoongi,” her voice trembled, the plea she had held within her finding its voice. “Promise me that he’s a good man, that she’ll be safe with him.”

“Of course, he is. She’ll be better off with him. I promise.” He answered. A softness lingered in his gaze, a tenderness that bore the weight of unspoken promises.

“Father will be pissed.” She said to him, expecting any reaction. Y/N’s grip on the glass tightened, the cold surface pressing into her palm.

A wry smile tugged at his lips, a fleeting acknowledgment of the complexities that had marred their familial relationships.

“We have weathered such storms before, my dear.”

“Something tells me, this isn’t why you wanted me to come.” Said she, with determination in her tone.

A sigh escaped him, the weight of his responsibilities etched into his features. His hands raked through his dark hair; a gesture borne of frustration. “Can’t I just simply long for spending time with you, my dear?” his voice is gentle and inviting.

“It’s more than that,” she pressed, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“You constantly keep disobeying me, love.” He said a bit more harshly than he wanted. Y/N frowned slightly. She knew he was right; she had been defying his orders and going against his wishes, seeking an escape route whenever she could.

“How did you manage to sway them all? My mother, my sister, even Kai.” She asked suddenly, her voice held a venomous edge. A chuckle escaped him, laden with both amusement and resignation. Frustration bubbled within her, an anger and sorrow that had remained carefully concealed.

“Maybe because they know this is God’s will, and it was meant to be.” He straightened himself in the chair, fighting his own fight with his frustrated mind. The young leader thanked and prayed to God every night for granting him her as a life companion. He, however, knew that she needed to be tamed.

Frustration bubbled within her, an anger and sorrow that had remained carefully concealed. The next words just happened to be forbidding the unforgivable.

“To hell with you and your God,” the words escaped her lips in a defiant hiss, a proclamation that cut through the air like a blade. And this was the last straw for Yoongi. The brave antique she illuminated just a second ago changed once she found herself being handled with a punishing grip on one of her arms. A swift, unrelenting grip it was. He seized her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh.

“Let me go!” She screamed and desperately tried to twirl out of his hold. Panic surged within her; her struggles met with a strength that left her powerless.

“Enough of this insolence,” he hissed, his grip unyielding. Y/N’s world tilted as he pressed her down upon his desk, her body held captive beneath the weight of his resolve.

“You want to be a brat? You want to disobey me and the lord? —” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve indulged your defiance for far too long,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of anger and resignation. The room seemed to close in around her.

“I’m done with this behaviour, and you’re done too, my love.” He spat out right next to her ear. Only cries and whimpers come out of her. She was immobilized, her world reduced to the commanding force that held her captive. Y/N heard the rustle of his belt, and she awaited the worst. The air seemed to thicken with tension, each moment stretching into an eternity.

“Yoongi…please, I’ll be good. I’m sorry.” She pleaded, crying her heart out, her pleas an offering of surrender. The scarred leader tied her hands with the belt, and she felt a bit of relief he wouldn’t use the belt on her.

“You will learn your place, my love,” his words were a declaration, a promise that hung heavy in her soul.

“I was too good to you—” said he, caressing her delicate heart-shaped bottom.

“Let me hear some gratitude, darling, thank your Kkangpae for his hospitality.” Said he before he landed the first slap on her butt cheeks.

She was squirming on the wooden chair in the main dining hall, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit. A vain attempt to find solace for her aching body. The sting of Yoongi’s preaching present. Her once-delicate bottom now bore the imprint of his reprimand. Regret gnawed at her; a bitter pill she had been compelled to swallow. She was not sure what part of that sentence angered him more. That she cursed at him or his almighty. Perhaps, she mused, it was the amalgamation of both that had pushed him to the edge.

That won’t ease the pain she feels now. Thoughts circled her mind with Xiaoli and Taehyung’s chatter in the background. He joined her family at breakfast before she was to prepare for the afternoon ceremony.

There was an undeniable magnetism between Taehyung and her younger sister. Y/N spotted how soft and endearing Taehyung was with her sister and there was no doubt that he indeed took an interest in the younger female. It was their mother who looked more anxious now.

“Is everything fine, Ma?” Xiaoli asked, eating her soft-boiled egg that had been served just a minute ago. Very western. But nobody was surprised as this hotel attracted noble people from every corner of the world. The surroundings and necessities were adjusted to be more international.

“Oh yes my dear, I’m just worried your father will be in distress again.” The older female said, sipping on her tea instead of elaborating more. Y/N knew very well that by distress she meant anger. The Min clan was messing with all his plans and that made him a ticking bomb.

“And you Y/N?” Her sister turned his eyesight at her. Y/N offered a soft smile and a nod – a half-truth. She could not bring herself to tell her the truth when she knew her loyalty belonged more to her husband-to-be and not to her anymore.

“Did you sleep well, my child?” Her mother asked with a prying tone. It almost felt like she knew what happened.

“Like a baby.” Her response veiled in ironic sarcasm. Y/N slept, the few hours she was granted, most of the time on her belly. It was her last night sleeping alone as Yoongi graciously reminded her before he tucked her in the sheets, biding her sweet dreams before he finally left her.

She wondered whether he was in his office as she hadn’t seen him yet this morning. And she was grateful for that. She had yearned for more time – time to think, to grapple with the complexities of her new reality. But her desires were a luxury she could ill afford.

“Very well, ladies. I shall see you later today, I still have some work to do.” Taehyung announced, getting up from his chair. Y/N watched how her sister pouted that he had to leave and smiled once he kissed her forehead, giving her goodbye. A shadow of melancholy that crept into her heart.

She wished her life would turn out differently, somewhere overseas, with someone she would love dearly and the sight of her sister’s happiness, pinched a bit of sadness in her heart. Y/N was happy that her sister had the chance to fall in love and she still hoped that it was in the stars for her too.

“Everyone knows.” Said Xiaoli suddenly when Taehyung was too far away to hear. Xiaoli’s words bore a weight of knowledge, a revelation that pulled Y/N from her introspection.

“Know what?” Y/N’s query was tinged with confusion, her sister’s words veiled in mystery.

“Everyone knows that Kkangpae disciplined you last night.” Xiaoli’s revelation sliced through the air, a truth that echoed like a damning verdict, unwelcome yet acknowledged.

“What did you do, child?” said her mother, putting her cup down, expecting an answer.

“I cursed at him and God, Ma.” Y/N’s voice was hushed, almost sheepish in its admission. Rightfully, her mother gasped, placing her hands at her mouth, successfully attracting attention to their table.

“Did you at least apologise?” Xiaoli asked, not surprised why the leader decided to lecture her sister that way.

“I did.” Said Y/N a bit sturdier, gulping down the rest of her jasmine tea.

“You’re lucky,” Xiaoli’s voice was tinged with a mix of sympathy and pragmatism. “Taehyung-oppa said that Kkangpae Min doesn’t take kindly when someone challenges the divine.” Y/N stopped listening once she said ‘Kkangpae’. She wanted to forget about him, just for a single moment.

“Y/N—” her mother began, her voice a delicate entreaty “—I understand that this is hard to take in, but don’t disown your beliefs because you don’t agree with the lord’s plan for you. Accept it and move on.” She knew her mother meant well. After all, she wanted all her children to be happy. Y/N gazed over at yet again the silent little boy who was sitting next to her the whole time.

“I know, Ma.” She sighed. Y/N smiled softly at her younger brother who was playing with his breakfast. His small frame bore the mark of his premature birth. She remembers her mother’s cries that echoed in the house that night. Father was so happy to have a son to care about that the mother of all his children almost died.

Her thoughts meandered to the countless women she had seen succumb to childbirth; their lives stolen by the very act that should have brought forth life. Enough for her to push the ideology of having children unless she is completely ready. Therefore, she did not hesitate to supply her body with herbs that had contraceptive effects, nor she did not forget to mark down her ovulation every time after her monthly bleeding. Y/N knew very well that it wouldn’t fly with Yoongi if she managed to somehow use the diaphragm, nor she did not expect him to support the newfound usage of condoms.

Any contraceptive method was banned and taboo in every syndicate clan. Y/N knew she had to perform her duties as a leader’s wife, but if nature can help her to prevent certain aspects of their marriage, she will keep fighting this way. 

She knew that her choices would not be met with approval, least of all by Yoongi. Y/N’s resolve to wield these methods was both an assertion of her agency and a form of silent rebellion.

The seconds refused to align with her favour. Seated before a vanity mirror, her porcelain features were delicately adorned with touches of makeup and her hair arranged with golden dragonfly pins with pearls hanging from them. Her mother’s careful hands combed through her hair just minutes ago, an act woven with generations of tradition.

“I think I need to breathe some air, ma.” Y/N’s voice was a soft exhale. The older woman paused in her actions, her reflection in the mirror meeting her daughter’s gaze. She saw the mixture of emotions in Y/N’s eyes, and her heart ached for the turmoil her child was going through. Wrapping her arms around Y/N, her mother embraced her, a comforting cocoon against the tempest outside. It wasn’t just a mother holding her daughter; it was a transfer of strength, a promise of unwavering support.

“You’re going to be alright, Y/N,” her mother’s whisper was a soothing lullaby to the young woman’s anxieties. “You’ll always pull through, no matter what.”

With her eyes closed, she leans into her mother’s embrace. The scent of her mother’s familiar perfume enveloped her, grounding her in the present while still connecting her to the past. She felt the love and understanding that flowed between them, the unspoken bond that only a mother and daughter could share.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N nodded. She turned and walked towards the door, sliding it open and walking down the corridor, aiming for the hotel’s backyard.

As the muffled sounds of the bustling wedding preparations reverberated around her, Y/N passed the office, an unspoken knowledge suggesting the presence of the mastermind behind the occasion – the man she was meant to stand beside. She couldn’t see him before the wedding ceremony, for which she was quite relieved. It gave her time to prepare herself to face him again.

The coat draped over her shoulders provided a semblance of warmth, though the chill in the air seemed to seep into her very bones.

“Y/N?” The voice was a jarring intrusion, a reminder of the entanglements she couldn’t escape.

“Kai?” Her response mirrored his tone, a mixture of guarded curiosity and exasperation.

“Where are you going?” His question hung in the air.

“To get some air,” she replied, her words etched with an undercurrent of defiance. “Why do you care?”

“You’re supposed to be getting ready for the wedding,” his words were a stark reminder of the expectations that bore down on her. Of course, he was brainwashed by his new leader too.

“We never got the chance to talk, Kai,” her voice carried an edge, an unresolved tension underscoring her words, looking over the snowy garden.

“About?” His inquiry followed her like a shadow.

“About you aiding my escape from China and then delivering me into the hands of the enemy,” her words, though uttered calmly, carried the weight of her resentment. She was feeling petty after all.

“That’s done and dusted, Y/N. Regardless, he would have come for you,” Kai’s response was clinical, devoid of remorse.

“What was auntie’s grand plan?” she deflected the subject, a sore point that neither of them could escape.

“Didn’t you read her letter? She explained,” Kai’s words alluded to a topic that was fraught with emotion.

“Yoongi hasn’t given it to me yet.”

“If you would be behaving yourself, you would already know everything you need, Y/N.”

“Ah yes. Everybody seems to have a sudden surge of loyalty to my husband-to-be,” her tone was laced with bitter irony.

“He’s the better leader,” Kai’s response was swift.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Y/N. If only you’d finally submit, you would see that too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you were helping me escape?” She ignored his words, stepping outside, a rush of fresh air greeting her.

“Because I know your stubbornness is your biggest weakness, Y/N. You wouldn’t have listened nor go willingly.”

“No, I wouldn’t have. But at least I would’ve had the freedom to choose which all of you graciously took from me.”

“You’d rather be the wife of that imbecile?” His words held a venomous edge.

“No Kai—”

“Then be fucking grateful for once,” a sentiment she had heard all too often.

“Is everything alright down here?” A new presence interrupted their tense exchange.

“As it should be Chan-yeol-hyung.” Kai’s response dripped with a veiled hostility.

“Y/N?” Chan-yeol’s voice sought her, his demeanour slightly more composed.

“Why don’t you mind your business, Chan-yeol?” Kai’s frustration was palpable.

“I’m just checking on Buin, brother-in-law,” Chan-yeol’s attempt at levity did little to alleviate the tension. Y/N did not understand what happened between these two males. But she was not willing to listen to their bickering.

“You both need to calm down,” Y/N’s voice cut through the fray, an appeal for some semblance of peace.

“Whatever,” Kai’s final word hung in the air as he stormed away, leaving Y/N to face the biting cold on her own.

“He needs to reset his mind.” Chan-yeol’s words were a bridge to a conversation she wasn’t sure she wanted.

“That’s quite ironic coming from you,” her retort was quick, her scepticism evident.

“I’ve reset my mind, Y/N,” his voice held a hint of resignation, his lips falling into thin lines.

“Have you now?”

“Yes. I almost regret having to do it again.”

“What do you mean-” Y/N did not manage to ask him as he pressed a white cloth against her mouth, her head immobilized by his firm grip. 

“You wanted to have a choice? Here it is.” She heard very few words before her eyes shut down.

I N T E R L O G U E

The smaller woman was running down the corridor. The sight she had beheld just moments ago had etched itself in her mind – her sister, her flesh and blood, being mercilessly torn away. She stumbled down the passage, her frantic steps echoing like the drumbeats of impending doom. Her heart was furiously beating, and her head started to spin when she realised the weight of this situation, breathing shallow.

“Taehyung-oppa!” Her voice, laced with desperation and fear, pierced the air like a knife. Tears blurred her vision, turning the world into a watery haze. Her trembling hands found the wooden door, and with an almost violent push, she thrust it open, her heartache and panic leaving no room for politeness or formality.

In the room, seven pairs of eyes, all shades of intensity and authority, snapped to attention at the intrusion, landing on her distressed form. Taehyung, positioned by the fireplace, lowered the crystal glass he had been nursing, his gaze zeroing in on her. His sharp eyes swept over her, taking in her dishevelled appearance, her tear-stained cheeks.

“Why are you crying, what happened, love?” Taehyung’s voice, soft yet commanding. Of course, she interrupted an important meeting, but none of the big seven could withstand their women crying without knowing the cause and therefore the urgency of the meeting was momentarily forgotten; when a woman wept, the world paused.

“Oppa—” Her voice quivered, a sob escaping her lips as her gaze flitted around the room, acutely aware of the attention fixed upon her.

“It’s okay, speak, girl.” The words, uncharacteristically gentle from the Kkangpae, coaxed her and pushed her to sing.

“He took her.” Her words, almost lost in her sobs, hung in the air, a chilling revelation that sent shockwaves through the room. The Kkangpae stiffened in his seat, starting to see red.

“Took who.” He worked out, even though he already knew. His voice, a rumbling undercurrent of controlled anger, demanded answers he already suspected.

“Y/N.” A loud bang echoed through the room, an ear-piercing sound of broken glass followed.

“Who took her, Xiaoli-beloved?” Taehyung approached her, grabbing her hands into his.

“I didn’t see, his back was facing me, oppa, but he looked like Chan-yeol.” She cast her gaze to the formidable figure at the head of the room, the Kkangpae, the leader, her sister’s lover.

“Namjoon, greet Yamamoto’s with Jimin-ah, —” the Kkangpae’s voice cut through the charged atmosphere, his orders delivered with a chilling finality.

“Hoseok, Jungkook,” his words were a decree, swift and unyielding “I want Chan-yeol alive, anyone else involved, dead.” The two men immediately rose from their seats, their purpose clear.

“Bring her back, even if it requires force,” the Kkangpae’s voice, a mixture of desperation and determination, reverberated in the room just like the song of the sorrow, the dead, echoed in their lives yet again.

to be continued

©pennyellee. please do not repost

author’s note: so here we are at chapter V!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ for some reason this chapter got longer than I wanted it to be, I actually planned that chapter VI will be longest so far; to bring good news, I'm almost finished, however, this next monday i'm returning to UNI and above that I'm going to work too, therefore I cannot say when will the next chapter be out, but I promise I'll try my best ♥ If not full chapters I'll try to deliver some drabbles/fillers to you chummers ♥

!IMPORTANT! I'm trying to always make sure that you're tagged right in the taglist, however, there are still accounts that for some reason cannot be tagged, I have no clue why is this happening but I'm trying to figure out a way where everyone who wanted to be notified about Lacrimosa updates will be notified. If you have any tips or advice in this matter, my dm's, asks, replies, reblogs are open for you all ♥

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17- @honsoolgloss- @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27- @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822- @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir - @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin @selenophileforlife

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 1 (kth)

banner credit goes to the absolutely incredible @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (they’re so, SO stupid), slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 8.4k

series warnings: swearing, sexual themes, one instance of mild violence, alcohol use, infidelity, brief mentions of neglectful parents and alcoholism

chapter warnings: potty mouths, oc teasingly threatens her friends, art world inaccuracies (probably, idk how art shows work), fns music festival dynamite performance taehyung (BLESSED), friends who can’t mind their own business, quick backstory on the aforementioned shitty parenting, oc needs (and has) a drink

a/n: so here is my first foray back into writing after being out of the game for several years! big shout outs to @itaeewon​ / @jeonqkooks​ for the banner and encouragement as well as @taegularities​ for giving me writing advice and letting me cry in her inbox every time i got frustrated with this. they’re also both INCREDIBLE writers so go show them some love once you’re done here!

 SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“She was checking you out.”

“She was not checking me out.”

“Kim Taehyung, she was so checking you out!”

“No.”

“She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave you the ‘come hither’ head tilt.”

Taehyung makes a face. “No one says that anymore, and that’s a perfectly normal gesture to make in everyday conversation.”

“When you want to get someone’s pants off.”

He shushes you, eyes flicking over to the nearby tables in the mostly-empty dining room with all of its dim lights and dark wood paneling. The bar had been a go-to for you and your friends in college, boasting a wide variety of burgers, sandwiches, and wraps that could even satisfy Jungkook and his bottomless appetite. Though your visits have become fewer and farther in between after graduation, nostalgia occasionally drags you back for a lunch or round of late-night drinks, which is how you’ve wound up here on a bright Saturday afternoon.

“You should ask for her number.”

“I am not asking her for her num—!”

“Can I get you anything?”

Taehyung’s face turns bright red as the waitress materializes at the side of your table as if on cue. It’s subtle, but she bats her eyelashes at him, body angled in his direction as if you’re not even there. You raise an eyebrow at him from across the table. See?

“I think we’re ready to order,” you say, mostly to put Taehyung out of his misery as he wordlessly stammers at the blonde.

You’d think he’s never seen a girl before in his life.

The waitress jots your orders down before strolling away in the direction of the kitchen, and you’d swear she’s swinging her hips a little more dramatically than before. You turn towards Taehyung.

“Told you.”

“I said no,” he says sheepishly, cheeks still brushed with pink. “Besides, she looks like she’s probably still in college.”

“You look like you’re probably still in college.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “And we’re not that old, Tae. You could date a college student.”

“Pass.”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat. “Fine, but we still need to find you a date to the wedding. Can’t let those youthful good looks go to waste.”

Taehyung huffs in faux annoyance, but his lips quirk up at the compliment. “I’m not bringing a date.”

“So you say, but I’m going to change your mind.”

His smile widens. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” You hold out a pinky, and he only hesitates a moment before linking his with yours.

“Okay, we’ll see.”

You fall into one of your usual conversation patterns as you ask about how his job is going. He tells you about the upcoming art show at the gallery where he works as a curator, doing some freelance photography as a side gig. He’d managed to snag Maya, one of the aforementioned friends, a spot in it, and he smiles as he gushes over how great her pieces turned out, cheeks lightly flushed with what you interpret as pride. The two of them met freshman year as photography majors and quickly developed into friends and partners, challenging each other artistically and now occasionally teaming up to shoot larger weddings and events.

It makes pride warm your own belly, seeing him flourish and succeed in the field he had always dreamed of. Photography had been an outlet for him throughout high school, a vital reprieve from the insulated struggles of your shared childhood. Taehyung has never been a negative person, never weighed down in spite of the home life which would have given him every justifiable reason to become jaded. Still, you’d watched a new light bloom in him after he discovered photography as if the camera lens truly gave him a fresh way of seeing the world.

And you’ve always loved seeing happiness spill from your best friend.

Your food is just being brought to the table when Jimin comes shuffling up in a zombie-like trance, eyes wide and mouth slack.

"Finally made i—woah, are you alright?"

Jimin drops into a seat, glazed eyes fixated on the window overlooking the street.

"Maya and Kook are hooking up."

Taehyung chokes on his drink, water spraying onto his plate, while your jaw hits the floor.

"They're what?!"

"What the fuck?!"

Jimin works his jaw before wiping his hands over his face, "Yup."

You and Taehyung gape at him.

"What in the name of God would make you say that?" you ask emphatically, just as Taehyung says, "They hate each other."

"I don't know. Probably because I just caught her straddling him on our couch half-naked. But it’s just a feeling."

"Oh my God, we don't need to know that!"

"Our couch?!"

Jimin scrubs a hand over his face again as if he could wipe the image from his brain. “Yeah, I…can’t say I’m entirely surprised, but, Jesus, I did not need to see that with my own two eyes.”

“Okay, wait, wait,” you say, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to clear your thoughts. “You’re sure it was Maya—not another one of his random hook-ups?”

“You think I don’t know what she looks like?” Jimin asks, pulling a face. “Look, she stopped by to grab some camera equipment Tae left for her and said she was going to hang around for a minute to wait for an Uber. I was already late for here so I left, but I forgot my wallet. When I went back they were…compromised. And I didn’t exactly stick around to interrogate them.” He frowns again, turning to Taehyung. “Speaking of, can you cover me for lunch?”

“This is unreal. Fucking unreal,” you fume. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Is it really all that surprising?” Jimin asks. “Somewhere in all of their bickering and nagging and constant frowning at each other was always some thinly-veiled sexual tension.” When you glare at him, he adds, “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t sleep with her.”

“That’s not the problem, Chim. You know how this shit goes.” You rub a thumb between your eyes, trying to ease the sudden tension there. “They already fight all the time, and sex only ever complicates things. How long until this blows up and we’re forced to choose sides?”

And that’s the crux of your worry—a disaster seems inevitable. Maya and Jungkook have always been clear about their bare tolerance of each other, seeing it as a necessary evil for the benefit of the rest of your friendships. And while their arguments and bickering have been relatively muted in recent years after you, Taehyung, and Jimin had put down a collective foot and told them you were tired of hearing their shit, you are not eager to see them test the fragile thread that links all of you.

You’ve dealt with enough instability regarding the people in your life; the last thing you need is more.

The waitress comes up to take Jimin’s order while Taehyung studies you as you press the heels of your palms to your eyes.

“Hey,” he says as the waitress walks off again, a hand sliding across the table in your direction but not quite making it there. “No one is getting divorced or anything. Just talk to Maya first. We really don’t even know what’s going on here.”

Jimin lets out a puff of air. “I do. He had his hand up her—” He shuts his mouth as both you and Taehyung shoot daggers at him.

After a moment, your fingers tap absent-mindedly over your phone. “Yeah, I guess I’ll talk to her tonight. We’re supposed to go dress shopping for the art show.”

“Gotta get something nice for Jace?” Jimin asks, wiggling an eyebrow. You smirk back at him.

“No, he can’t make it. Work has him putting in overtime like crazy for their annual convention in a few weeks.”

“How is he doing—Jace?” Taehyung asks. His tone is light, but as Jimin turns to look at him, he notices his hand on the table had closed into a fist.

“He’s good,” you say, the tension finally melting out of your face as your eyes light up. “He’s been incredibly upbeat lately, actually—more romantic even.” There’s a pause as you hesitate. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was going to…you know.” You wave faintly with your left hand.

Jimin’s eyes go wide. “You think he’s planning to pro—” You quickly press a finger over your lips, and Jimin slaps a hand to his thigh. “Fuck yes! About damn time. Hey,” he settles his face in his palm and stares off dreamily. “Can I be your maid of honor?” Then, when you giggle, “Don’t laugh. I would look great in a dress.”

“I’ll put you on the short list,” you say, turning towards your food as Jimin pumps a fist. “But no more talk about that. I’ve waited damn long enough and do not want to jinx it.”

Taehyung’s knuckles had gone white.

“It’s really none of your business,” Maya says, picking up a bright purple, thigh-length dress off the rack and holding it up to her shoulders. “How about this one?”

“Too short.” She puts it back. “And I beg to differ. When something stands to get between two of my best friends who I care about deeply, I think that makes it my business.” When Maya doesn’t say anything, still nonchalantly flipping through dresses, you press on. “You know this can’t end well, right? You’re adding sex to an already volatile relationship, and I don’t like the idea of the friend group having to split if and when the two of you implode.”

“First of all, we’re not your damn parents. Kook may be a walking man child, but the rest of us are mature adults. We’d figure it out,” Maya says. She holds up a green gown, frowns, and returns it. Turning towards you, she quirks an eyebrow. “Second of all, who says that this morning was the first time?”

Your jaw drops. As you stand speechless, Maya resumes her dress perusal.

“Wha—how long?” you finally choke out.

“Ooh, this is pretty.” Maya pulls out a deep red cocktail dress, silver roses adorning the fabric. Catching the look on your face, she says, “Two years, give or take.”

“Two—!” you squeak before shaking your head. “No. No fucking way. You two can barely be in the same room for two minutes let alone sleep together for two years.”

Maya smirks. “Turns out he can do much better things with his mouth when he’s not using it to talk out of his ass.”

“Maya, oh my God!”

“What? You wanted to make it your business, right?”

You take a breath to steady yourself. “Look, I am just worried about you guys, okay? That’s it. You’re two of my best friends, and I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. And I certainly don’t want to be put into a situation where I have to choose between you.”

“That won’t happen,” Maya says, trailing off towards a dressing room. “For someone to get hurt, there’d have to be actual feelings involved, and the only feeling he gives me is a migraine.” She slips into a changing stall while you lean against the wall, still trying to wrap your head around what you’re hearing.

“Besides,” Maya’s voice sounded from behind the curtain, “Jimin only found out because of his stupid wallet, and he notices everything. If we could fool him for that long with no problems…” She pulls the curtain back. The red fabric of the dress hugs her hips, her dark hair draped over one shoulder. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous, as usual,” you say. And then, because you can’t help it, “I’m sure Kook will love it.”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Oh, please.” She steps back into the stall and yanks the curtain closed again. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…weird.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Maya says over the shuffling of clothes. “Nothing changed during the two years when you guys didn’t know and nothing has to change now.”

Maybe she’s right, you think to yourself, resting your head back and closing your eyes to the bright fluorescents above you. Maybe everything would be fine. Jungkook, in spite of his cocky playboy persona, may be a big teddy bear at heart, but you’ve never known him to mix emotions with pleasure. And Maya is certainly capable of handling herself.

Still, the whole thing just reeks of disaster waiting to happen.

The sun has just started its descent when the two of you step out of the shop, Maya now carrying a long white bag along with her. You pause for a moment, taking a slow inhale of the soft spring air. This is probably your favorite time of day, when the whole city is tinted gold, the push of the foot traffic slowing to a lazier pace as college students and businessmen alike meander their way to dinners and evening plans.

“Do you want to do dinner at my place?” Maya asks, starting to move in the direction of her apartment as you trail at her side. “I was planning on trying this new pot roast recipe, and I’d rather not get stuck with too many leftovers.”

“Ooh, that sounds good,” you say. “I’m in.”

“You just have to promise to stop looking so constipated.”

You let out a puff of a laugh. “I’m sorry—I really don’t mean to meddle.” You purse your lips. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I know, you said that already,” Maya sighs. “But we’re all grown-ups, Y/N. I know you mean well, but you’ve gotta loosen up the reins a little bit.”

“Whatever. As long as I don’t have to walk in on you guys like Jimin did.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “And just…be careful.”

Maya rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that day. She knows your heart is in a good place—the stereotypical “mom friend” just looking out for everyone—but your own blind spot drives her crazy.

You insist that you don’t truly mean to meddle. Maya, however, has no such qualms.

“You know,” she says, smirking at you with a sideways glance. “If you’re really worried about someone getting their heart broken, you should spend less time worrying about me and Kook and more time worrying about Tae.”

Your steps slow, frown lines gradually forming on your face. “Tae? What about Tae?” You pause. “He and Luna broke up months ago. He said he was over her.”

They were barely together a year, but the relationship had been the longest of Taehyung’s life. He’d spent the two weeks following the breakup locked in his room while you juggled both making sure he was alright and moving into a new apartment.

Maya gestures to the bag in her hands. “Don’t stop walking. This thing is a bitch to carry.”

As you jog a few steps to catch up, you ask, “Why? Did he say something to you?”

“Oh, please.” Another eyeroll. “He was never into Luna. It’s a wonder they even lasted as long as he did.”

“Then who?”

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Maya, I genuinely have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

It’s Maya’s turn to stop in her tracks this time, passerby giving the two of you dirty looks as they swerve around you. She pins you with a pointed expression that has you blinking back at her. “What?”

Maya only continues to stare, tilting her head and biting her tongue until you finally put the pieces together. Your eyes going wide before you shake your head vigorously.

“No. No. You’re wrong.”

Maya scoffs and continues walking. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve told you this before. We’re just comfortable with each other. He’s my—”

“Best friend who has made heart eyes at you the entire time I’ve known you two.”

“He does not. He looks at me like he’s always looked at me.”

“Exactly.”

“I—need I remind you that I’m in a committed relationship?”

“So? That doesn’t affect his feelings.”

“Tae has dated plenty of girls.”

“And with much success, obviously.”

You hesitate. “It’s not his fault that they all—”

“See how he looks at you and decide not to waste their time?”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Sure it is.”

“You’re misreading it. It’s just that we have history.”

“And chemistry. And while we’re rattling off school subjects the two of you share, I’m sure he’d be willing to help you with your physical education.”

“Maya.”

“I’m just saying!” She adjusts the bag, the plastic rustling the air. “I just got this sense that something, I don’t know, broke after Luna. I figured he finally realized how hung up on you he is or something, and that’s why he hasn’t dated since.”

The idea of a broken Taehyung squeezes your heart as your frown impossibly deepens. “That’s not…no. That’s definitely not what it was. He’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”

“Okay. Fine. If you say so.”

The two of you fall into silence, the light crackle of Maya’s bag hanging delicately between you. The sun is starting to dip behind buildings now, stretching long shadows onto the ground in front of you as you turn onto her block. You inhale a long, shaky breath.

Yes, it’s been a while since Taehyung has dated, and yes, this is a little peculiar. He may be your best friend,  but part of that means you’ve watched him grow from awkward kid to gangly teenager to one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid eyes on. You’re not blind—you’ve seen how it’s unsurprisingly garnered him a good deal of female attention throughout the years (Saturday afternoon was not the first time he’s been hit on by a waitress). And while he’s never been anywhere near Jungkook’s level of playboy, he’s definitely been on his fair share of dates.

You don’t doubt that Maya’s noticed something of a shift in him—after you, she’s probably the person who knows him best. But both you and Taehyung have always insisted that your platonic relationship is, well, entirely platonic. So even if something changed for him, she has to be off base as to the why.

Right?

“Maya—”

“Look, I’m not telling you to sleep with him or leave Jace or anything like that. Just…” Maya purses her lips together, blowing air out of her nose. “Step back and look at what you’re doing to him before you lecture the rest of us. The guy is crazy about you, and you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”

Well.

Shit.

She climbs the steps to her front door, slipping in the key and opening it before turning back to where you remain at the bottom of the stoop fiddling with your purse strap.

“You coming?”

“Um,” you hesitate. Your eyes drift off down the street, mind suddenly racing . “I don’t know. I’m not really hungry anymore.”

Maya’s expression softens. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“No, no,” you say with another shake of your head.  “I’m not mad. I just think I want to go home, maybe take a bath.”

“Okay,” Maya slowly responds. “I’ll see you at the show Friday night?”

You smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Perhaps, Maya muses as she watches you saunter down the sidewalk, calling you out was not the right move. But the thought only lingers for a moment before she turns with a shrug and goes inside.

It’s Sunday night when you find yourself at the guys’ apartment for your and Taehyung’s weekly meal prep tradition. The ritual is the evolution of several years of having to care for yourselves—a need to eat turned into a sacred bonding activity for two people who had learned to rely on each other.

You and Taehyung met when you were eight-years-old after your teacher had fatefully situated your desks next to each other on the first day of school. A compliment from Taehyung on the color of your pencil case (a bright and bold turquoise) turned into a fast friendship that rapidly deepened as you realized just how similar you were: both only children living in homes with parents who were neglectful in their own ways.

In spite of growing up in a lavish, sparkling house with more rooms than you could count, your childhood was a struggle as your endlessly-busy, high-powered-lawyer parents virtually ignored your existence and left you to your own devices, working late hours every day and oftentimes not even ensuring that you had been properly fed. The mansion had felt like a prison, long hallways and tall ceilings devoid of life, filled with nothing but a terrible sense of loneliness.

That was, at least, until Taehyung showed up.

When either of you had a bad day (which was, admittedly, most days), he would slip away from the tiny, one-bedroom house on the poorer side of town, where his mother had abandoned him to an alcoholic father, and you'd sneak him in the back door (your parents either never noticed or simply didn't care). The two of you would raid the kitchen cabinets for snacks and lug your loot up to your bedroom, where you'd throw together a giant fort made of pillows and blankets with your prized possession at the center—a small globe light with tiny cut-out stars.

You never really talked about your respective situations—there was never really a need to. He saw your non-relationship with your parents firsthand, and you had heard the rumors about his family—whispers at school about the boy with secondhand clothes and a dad who often had to be dragged out of the local bars. The outside world may have been cruel, passing judgment on the both of you (and Taehyung especially) for circumstances outside of your control, but in the comfort of your room, even that fostered your kinship. It was like your own minuscule universe, belonging only to the two of you, and as you munched on your popcorn and watched the soft stars dance across the propped-up fabric, you'd talk and tell each other stories. Stories about anything from kings and queens to pirates to cowboys to astronauts. The only rule was that every tale had to have a happy ending.

As you got older, you traded your storytelling nights for evenings experimenting in the kitchen, sick of gorging yourselves on chips, pretzels, and sodas. Occasionally, once Taehyung purchased his first camera from a secondhand shop with money he saved delivering newspapers, he'd drag you around town for a photoshoot. You’d wander the streets together, helping him to scout out areas for inspiration, and he’d use you as his model to practice portraits and photographing human subjects. This tradition, too, had faded once the two of you escaped your hometown to go to college (you're not sure your parents even realized you had left), as Taehyung began working on class projects with Maya and you started spending more time with Jace. Only your weekly meal prep had persisted.

Your cooking had been a staple during college, you and Taehyung hosting “family dinners” for you and your friends on weekends (usually followed by a good few rounds of drinks), eventually shifting into you making batch meals on Sundays once you’d all graduated and begun working. That was when it had been you who’d lived in this apartment, back before you’d moved in with Jace and Jungkook had taken your place here. Still, even as lifestyles and living arrangements changed, you always wound up cooking with Taehyung on Sunday nights.

“What are mom and dad making tonight?” Jimin trills, reaching over the counter to take a swipe at a baby carrot. You shoo his hand away.

“Nothing, if you keep stealing our ingredients. Aren’t you supposed to be going to the gym?”

“I am, but someone,” he turns to yell over his shoulder, “is taking their sweet ass time getting ready!”

A door clicks open down the hall before Jungkook’s voice yells out, “Calm down, asshole, I’m almost done!” The door slams shut again.

“Such a diva,” Jimin huffs, gaining an edge to pop a carrot into his mouth. You let out a cry of protest.

“Chim, cut it out!” You turn to Taehyung who is at the opposite counter with his back to you, chopping more vegetables. “Tae, stop him.”

Taehyung snorts, not turning around. “That’s my job?”

“You have a knife.”

“Sorry, I’ve taken a vow of nonviolence.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter as Jimin tries to reach around you again. “Hands off, Park, or I swear to God I will kick you in the balls, and you will not see it coming.”

“Guy’s gotta get some action somehow, am I right?” Jungkook comes striding down the hallway in a tank top and shorts, looking more like he’s ready for a magazine cover shoot than a gym visit as he bounds up to where you and Jimin stand in the kitchen.

“Hey, I get plenty of action!”

“You were literally whining this morning that it’s been three months.”

Jimin flushes. “That’s because I don’t sleep with my friends.”

“Neither do I,” Jungkook says, throwing a wink in your direction as you roll your eyes back at him.

“You’re disgusting. It’s a wonder Maya puts up with you.”

“It’s definitely more of a puts out situation.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “And not really up? Contrary to what you might expect, she’s usually under—“

“Jeon Jungkook.” Then, when he makes a move to grab a carrot, you turn to Taehyung and snap, “Tae, give me a knife, I’ll stab them myself.”

Barely looking up, he reaches over to grab a knife out of the block, twisting it in his hands to hold it delicately by the blade and offer it to you handle-first. You grip it, only to slam the knife down firmly on its side in front of you, staring down Jimin and Jungkook in a silent challenge. But Jimin merely quirks an eyebrow in silent laughter, while Jungkook lets out a teasing, “Hot.”

You glare and raise the knife to chest level, pointing it at his sternum and trying to muster as much threatening energy as you possibly can in the face of a guy who could bench press you in his sleep. And while his facial expression remains one of passive amusement, he raises his hands in mock surrender and says, "Fine, fine, we're going."

With a sweep of their gym bags, they make their way out, and there's one last, "Save some for us!" from Jimin before the door swings shut behind them.

You sigh. "Idiots."

"But they're our idiots," Taehyung says, and a glance over your shoulder tells you that he's laughing at your frustration, a smile brightening his features and warming your chest.

"Remind me why we adopted them again?"

"You instantly fell for Jimin's puppy dog eyes when he was wandering around lost at orientation, and Kook..." He trails off. "Why did we adopt Kook?"

"School administration made you dorm with him, and we haven't been able to get rid of him since?"

"Oh yeah, that's right."

You fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound being that of your respective knives hitting the cutting board before Taehyung speaks up again.

"Speaking of Kook, you never told me how your conversation with Maya went."

You're thankful you have your back to him because you immediately feel yourself flush, heat shooting up your neck like an erupting volcano. You want to say, Yeah, it went great. She told me that you're desperately in love with me, and I'm the reason why none of your relationships have worked out. But that's ridiculous, right? Right?!

Instead, you do your best to mask your expression into one of relative impassivity and say, “Well, according to her, this isn’t new. They’ve been doing this for two years.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish.”

Taehyung ignores that. “How did none of us ever notice?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out. You’d think we would’ve noticed a change or something, right?”

He’s quiet, and you glance over to see him staring at a distant point out the window, lost in thought, the heel of the knife absentmindedly tapping a beat against the board. Taehyung’s always been introspective—content to sit in contemplation as he slowly works an idea through his mind. He’s thoughtful like that, ever the deliberator and rarely one to act on impulse. You balance each other out in this regard, with you having always been more inclined to break rules as you see fit and Taehyung being there to reel you in as needed.

“Maybe it works for them,” he finally says, and you feel your eyebrows shoot halfway up your forehead.

“You can’t seriously think this is a good idea.”

He shrugs, attention drawn back to the vegetables in front of him. “It hasn’t caused a problem yet, right?”

“The operative word there being yet.”

He shrugs again, brows tilting together. “I’m just saying that they’re both consenting adults, and if it’s gone this long without any catastrophes, maybe it really is a good arrangement for both of them.”

“It’s Maya and Kook. They’re always a catastrophe.”

“Exactly. They’d probably have an eventual falling out even if they weren’t sleeping together, so who knows? Maybe it actually helps them work some of that tension off.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I didn’t say it was healthy.” He finishes chopping his last onion and sets his knife down, crossing the kitchen to check your own progress. Reaching over you, he grabs a piece of carrot and slips it into his mouth, grinning when you frown at him. “Really, Y/N, what can you do?”

“I know, but they’re…they’re the closest thing to family that we have. You know that.”

“Families can be dysfunctional. We both know that.” He munches on another carrot. “I’d still take them over my biological family any day.”

When that still doesn’t seem to entirely placate you, he reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, the tips of his fingers brushing the base of your neck and raising goosebumps there, before he slides his hand down to loop your pinkies together. “What will happen will happen. Don’t let it worry you unnecessarily.” Then he’s off heating up oil on the stove.

Normally, the brief touch would have barely registered in your mind—a simple gesture you had gotten into the habit of using when you were kids to provide reassurance. But it’s like your conversation with Maya has been inked under your skin, recoloring your perspective on the single-most steadfast relationship you’ve ever had in your life.

You hate it.

The oil begins to bubble on the stove, but Taehyung is distracted, rummaging around the refrigerator for something, so you take over, dumping in the beef that will help form the base for the soup. You throw in some seasoning, poking at the meat with a spoon and willing it to brown.

“So you’re really not interested in dating again?”

The words slip out, and the contents of the pot pop angrily at you.

Yeah, you might regret this later.

“Hmm?” Taehyung closes the fridge, cracking open the beer that’s now in his hand.

You curse your loose tongue under your breath. “Just…the other day at lunch. You were so against asking that waitress for her number.”

“She wasn’t my type.”

“And you don’t want to bring a date to the wedding.”

“I’d only bring a long-term girlfriend to a wedding. Less of a chance we’d have to edit her out of pictures later.”

“And how many dates have you been on since Luna? It’s been what, almost a full year?”

His brow scrunches, and the way he’s studying you makes you blush. “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

You stare determinedly into the soup pot, trying to look nonchalant. “You’re my best friend, and I want to see you happy. Of course I’m interested.”

He props his hip against the counter in thought and takes a long drag of beer before he answers you. “I thought after Luna that it would be best if I take some time to focus on myself before diving back in. That’s all.”

“She really did a number on you, huh?”

“Something like that.”

You poke at the beginnings of your soup, memories of an absolutely miserable Taehyung surfacing in your mind. “It sucked, you know.”

“What?”

“Seeing your heart break.”

“Ah.” He takes another drink. “Right.”

“I swear, if I saw her again, I’d be tempted to kick her ass.”

He chuckles at that, and it rumbles his entire chest.

It might stir something in yours, too.

“I mean it, Tae.”

“Oh, trust me, I know you do.”

“Could be anywhere: club, grocery store. I’m not afraid to throw hands.”

He gives a tilt of his head. “She was a third degree black belt.”

“Well I kicked that Kenji kid in the groin during recess after he stole your backpack, and he cried for like twenty minutes. Remember that? He was practically six feet tall in the fifth grade, and that didn’t stop me. First degree black belt my ass.”

“Third degree.”

“Whatever.”

“Well as much as I appreciate your determined defense of my pride, I can assure you any emotional distress I suffered was minimal—“

“You haven’t dated since!”

“—and is definitely not worth putting yourself in the hospital over.”

“You don’t miss it though? What about like…” You trail off, cursing your stupid mouth getting ahead of your brain. You’ve never really talked about this before. Relationships, sure, but when it comes to the physical, along with your families, it’s one of the few subjects you avoid.

As your pause stretches on, he raises his eyebrows in question, and you decide to just come out with it.

“What about sex?”

Taehyung, to his credit, is unfazed by your sudden mention of the taboo. “I still have two hands, and they haven’t failed me so far.”

“Oh, Tae, ew.”

He grins devilishly at you, mischief brightening his eyes. It’s a look that he used to wear all the time when you were kids but which became rarer once he mellowed out with adulthood.

Seeing it on him now makes your heart jump.

“Point taken, forget I asked,” you say, and he laughs.

“Really, I’m fine with taking a break from dating for now. Isn’t that what that band you love is always preaching? Self-love and all that.”

You huff out a breath, nodding at his hands. “You don’t say.”

He laughs again, grinning down at you, and the uncertainty you’ve been feeling bubbles up again, your nerves sparking in time with a particularly loud crackle from the pot on the stove.

“Ah, geez, don’t let it burn,” he says, nudging you out of the way to take over. You take the opportunity to wander over to the fridge for a water bottle, feeling the need to cool yourself down. Honestly, what is wrong with you?

Taehyung, in sync with your moods by now, reads you like a book. “I feel like I should be asking you if you’re okay.” He says as he sets the meat aside and begins simmering the mirepoix in the fat. “You seem distracted.”

The conversation has become too much for you to wrestle with at this point, and you feel the need to shut it down before it gets out of control entirely. So you swallow down your anxieties like a pill without water and deflect.

“There’s just…a lot going on right now.”

It’s almost imperceptible, possibly a trick of the light, but his back stiffens ever so slightly. “Hmm, I’m sure.” He looks up at you from the stove, eyes pinning you where you stand. “But you’d tell me if there were something?”

You swallow. “Of course. You?”

“Of course.”

And that has to be enough for now.

The glow of the sunset creeps into your room as you put the finishing touches on your make-up for the night. You're running later than anticipated as you had hoped to catch Jace before you left—you know he has a virtual client meeting scheduled in fifteen minutes that he had planned to attend from home, but he texted you a half-hour ago saying that he got caught up at the office and might just take it there.

With your make-up done, you can't justify lingering any longer and decide to just leave him a note letting him know when you'll be back. Jace's desk is an absolute mess, but you're thankfully able to locate a notepad easily. A pen, however, is a different matter, and it's not long before you're rummaging through the drawers trying to find anything to write with. For a man who keeps his appearance so well-groomed, he has a true affinity for clutter, and you roll your eyes at the junk you have to sift through in search of a simple writing utensil: a hammer, old movie tickets, a broken picture frame, a ring box...

A ring box?

You pause, fingers hovering over the black velvet. Surely, you shouldn't look, right? You already feel like you're crossing some line by discovering the small box—you should preserve some element of surprise for both of your sakes.

Still, the devil on your shoulder whispers to sneak a peek...

Your decision is made for you as you hear the front door click open and shut, and you hastily close the drawer and try to school your features into something casual.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Jace leans in the doorway grinning, not a single sandy brown hair out of place and his impeccably-ironed dress shirt pulled tight across his toned chest. In a fraction of a second, you see his eyes flick from his desk drawer to where you stand stiffly in front of it.

"Hey!" The word comes out a little too loudly, and you rush to cover up the blunder. "I thought I wouldn't see you."

"Wanted to surprise my girl," he says, smile brightening as he swings a hand from behind his back to offer you a single red rose. You feel your cheeks heating up as you take it from him, marveling at how—even four years down the line—he can still manage to charm you.

He presses a kiss to your mouth, hands trailing down the back of your dress to palm your ass with a groan. "Fuck. Can't believe I have this work meeting when you look like this."

"And unfortunately, I need to get going, too, or Maya will have my head." You lean in for another quick peck. "Rain check for later?"

He chuckles, letting you go with one final squeeze. "I'll hold you to that."

"Look who finally showed up!" is what you're greeted with when you locate your friends in the gallery atrium, dodging the other patrons milling about.

"Sorry, got caught up with Jace," you say, shrugging at Maya's teasing glare.

Jungkook winks at you. "I'm sure you did."

"Yah, Kook, don't be gross," Jimin complains, slapping him on the arm.

"What?! She looks great! Right, Tae? Tell her she looks great."

You meet Taehyung's eyes for the first time since you walked up, and he shifts on his feet, gaze darting down to the accentuated curve of your hips. Clearing his throat, he smiles and says, "You look beautiful."

Cheeks hot, you murmur a quiet, "Thanks," so distracted by the awkwardness of the moment that you don't notice the look exchanged by Jimin and Maya between you.

Friends can call friends beautiful and not have it mean anything beyond that, right? You told Maya she looked gorgeous when she bought her dress with you last weekend, and you’d definitely be willing to admit that Taehyung looks incredible tonight. His navy blue suit hugs the lines of his body perfectly—highlighting his tall, lithe form—while his hair is combed up and off his forehead in a style that projects both professionalism and approachability. Combine that with the easy smile he keeps on his face, and he’s basically in male model territory.

You’ll be stunned if he doesn’t get hit on again tonight.

You make some idle small talk with your friends for a few minutes (Jungkook is trying to convince the others to head over to the bar where he works after the reception) before Maya gently nudges you with an elbow.

"Go and have a look around. Mine are back there," she declares, nodding her head towards the right hand corner of the exhibit, "but you should really check out all of the work—there's some good stuff. Hoseok and Sunny are around somewhere too."

You nod, welcoming the chance to see what it is your friends have been working so hard on, and excuse yourself to peruse the gallery. You may not be much of a creative mind yourself, but years of friendship with Taehyung and his infectious enthusiasm have at least helped you develop an appreciation for art. Weaving between the walls of frames and canvases, you stop here and there as a piece catches your eye: dark bars slashed across a messy outline of a heart titled Fake Love; a small boy offering up a waffle cone that holds a rose instead of ice cream—For You.

However, you find yourself slowing down entirely when you get to Maya's collection of photographs. They're mostly black and white candids of strangers. A woman shopping in an outdoor market. A girl chasing a dog in a park. Your friends pop up occasionally, and you smile at one of the memories you recognize: Jungkook pushing Jimin into the pool during your friendcation last year, bunny smile stretched wide across his face.

And suddenly you're frozen by a photo that's in full color.

It's Taehyung's face in close-up, his head turned to the side as he looks at something out of frame. His jaw strikes a downward line, mouth ever so slightly dipped open in something akin to wonder and tan cheeks curving with subtle delight. It's his eyes you can't look away from, though, opened wide enough to soak in whatever he's looking at that they reflect the golden lights around him, tiny galaxies swimming in his irises.

"Enjoying the view?" a deep voice teases at your shoulder, the man himself coming to stand at your side.

"That's an incredible picture of you," you tell him, still taking it in.

He hums in agreement. "I told you, she did a good job."

"Was that last summer?"

"Yeah." He nods his head at the picture of Jimin and Jungkook. "Same night as that, I think."

"What were you looking at?"

Taehyung is quiet as he thinks, scratching lightly at his nose. "I can't say I remember. Probably Hoseok walking out with that plate of pork belly. That was mouth-watering."

You laugh, and he smiles back at you before gesturing at the rows of artwork. "Can I show you some of my favorites?"

"I'd love that."

You let him drag you away, but not before glancing back to read the title card delicately placed next to Taehyung's image.

Your eyes tell.

Taehyung navigates you around the exhibit for a while, describing his role in organizing the gallery and stopping to gush about his favorite pieces. You've always loved hearing him talk about art, his passion for the subject illuminating his face as he enthuses about light and shadows and colors.

He's explaining the rule of thirds to you when Maya interrupts, telling Taehyung she has a potential client for him that she wants him to meet. He promises to find you later as she whisks him away, and, alone again, you decide to head to the adjoining reception area in search of your other friends.

You’re only a few steps into the room when you hear a voice call out your name, Jimin flagging you down from where he stands at a table with Jungkook, Hoseok, and Sunny, and you quickly slide up to hug the latter two.

“You guys made it! We’ve missed you. How’s wedding planning going?”

Hoseok groans into his champagne. “Please do not remind me,” he grumbles. “It makes med school feel like a cakewalk.”

“What my wonderful fiancé meant to say,” Sunny says, playfully elbowing Hoseok in the side and making him sputter on his drink, “is that it’s going fantastically, and we can’t wait to celebrate with you all.”

“Rumor is that it’s the can’t-miss event of the year,” Jimin singsongs. “And Kook and I are bringing the party!” He reaches over so he and Jungkook can share a short but excessively elaborate handshake.

Sunny looks on, amused. “Speaking of, do you two know if you’re bringing dates? We don’t have to finalize headcount quite yet, but knowing sooner rather than later would be appreciated.”

“I will definitely be going stag, but I think Kook might have one, yeah?” Jimin’s voice is teasing, but Jungkook doesn’t catch on, throwing him a quizzical look and causing Jimin to clarify with a smirk. “Maya.”

Jungkook scoffs, muttering, “Not a chance,” while Hoseok’s and Sunny’s eyebrows shoot up in sync.

“You and Maya are dating now?” Sunny asks, eyes wide.

Jungkook tosses Jimin a glare. “No, he’s being an ass.”

When Sunny and Hoseok continue to look confused, glancing back and forth between Jungkook and Jimin, Jimin explains, "We found out recently—and unpleasantly for me, might I add—that Maya and Kook here have been engaging in some activities with, ah, no strings?"

Hoseok's eyebrows go impossibly higher, threatening to meld with his hairline, as his mouth pops open in surprise. "Uhh...congrats?"

Jungkook shakes his head, bottom lip jutting out like a child. "Chim's just jealous because he's in a drought."

"Hey!"

"I, for one, don't see an issue," Sunny says, hopping in to play peacemaker before Jimin and Jungkook devolve into one of their notorious bickering sessions. "You're both adults. And don't sweat it, Jimin, any girl would be lucky to have you."

"What's that supposed to mea—" Hoseok starts to ask before Sunny shuts him up with a finger to his lips, subtly nodding her head at the clearly placated men.

"I just can't believe you two are finally getting married." You change the subject, snatching up a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter walks by. "Been a long time coming."

Sunny hums. "To be honest, I'm surprised we're beating you and Jace to the alter," she says, and now it's your turn to cough on your drink. "When is that happening?"

"Oh, I, um—" you stutter, as you weigh how much you should say. You should keep what you saw earlier a secret, right? After all, what if you're wrong and you come out looking like a fool?

But four pairs of eyes are now fixed on you expectantly, and these are your friends so you cave.

"Okay, I am swearing all of you to secrecy," you say, making deliberate eye contact with each of them in turn to emphasize your point, "but I literally found a ring box in his desk earlier when I was getting ready to come here."

The table erupts in your friends' squeals and cheers, Jimin and Jungkook coming around to playfully shake your shoulders.

"Oh my gosh, I knew it!"

"That's amazing news!"

"I want to be man of honor!"

"I already called dibs!"

"What are we calling dibs on?"

Your heart skips as Taehyung joins your table, smiling at the five of you but obviously perplexed as to what the ruckus is about. And maybe you're imagining it, but your friends all seem to quiet down at his appearance as well, causing Maya's words to once again echo in your mind. The guy is crazy about you, and you're the only one who doesn't see it.

An awkward silence drapes itself over the table, Jimin being the one to pipe up when Taehyung's expression begins to morph from curious to concerned. "Y/N, tell him the good news!"

At that, Taehyung's brown eyes settle on you, and so you take a deep breath and spill. "I found a ring box in Jace's desk."

You're looking at him intently, and it's only the tiniest sliver of a second, but you see it. Unmistakably.

His face drops.

If Maya's photo captured stars in his eyes, you watch each go out one-by-one, his lips pressing together like he's trying not to be sick. A heaviness hits his shoulders that has his chest curling inwards and you almost reaching out to him...

And just like that—all at once—he's gathered his features into a smile and beams at you.

"That's fantastic, Y/N. I'm so incredibly happy for you."

His voice sounds genuine, dripping in the baritone honey that is so warm and so him, but you know what you saw—you're sure of it—and it has your mind spinning.

Shit, shit, shit, she was right.

You down your champagne in one gulp, oblivious to the shocked faces around you as you throw it back and thump the glass harshly on the table. "I'm going for a drink. Anyone want anything?"

You barely give them time to shake their heads before you're scurrying away to the bar and ordering a cosmopolitan—strong. Thoughts whirring, you try to make sense of Taehyung’s crestfallen expression as the bartender mixes your drink. There surely must be an alternate explanation, right? Until now, Taehyung has never, ever given any indication that he has feelings for you. This must be a mistake; you must be seeing things…

But just as the bartender slides your glass across the countertop, you glance back at the table, blood running cold as you find Taehyung already looking at you. He gives you a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite make it to his eyes before turning back to listen to whatever Jimin is currently saying.

You quickly down your second drink of the night and order a third.

NEXT

a/n: and we’re off! likes, reblogs, comments, asks, feedback, constructive criticism, and carrier pigeons are all appreciated! this started off as a story with all OCs, and the first drafts of some of these scenes were originally written in third person omniscient so please forgive me if the POVs are a little all over the place in this chapter. it’ll be rectified moving forward!

taglist open: just message or reply 😊

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 4)

DESCRIPTION: You have been invited to your friends party with your husband, Thomas Shelby

WORD COUNT: 3048

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: brief mentions of cheating, swearing, mentions of gangs, talk of arranged marriage, drinking, smoking, calls reader 'love', smut, dom Thomas, sub reader, fingering, orgasm denial, dirty talk, degrading

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

It will not follow the timeline of the show. But I hope you enjoy.

You sit in the living room of your friends house. Your husband sat next to you as the other guests talk around you. You recognise some of the other people. Knowing them from previous parties and interactions. Talking mainly to them but still joining in with some of the conversation from everyone. Laughing at the jokes they make or adding your own knowledge to subjects. You notice Tommy stays silent beside you. Occasionally smiling at a joke, even letting out soft chuckles. But you pay it no mind.

Once all the guests have arrived is when the party truly gets started. Music, food, and alcohol is served. You got up, getting yourself and your husband a drink each. Him thanking you as you sit next to him again. Sipping your drink you lean towards him. "That is Vanessa's niece and nephew. Her brother and sister in law" you point out the people. His eyes following your finger as he listens to your introductions.

"The group over there are some of her friends from her early childhood. They used to play together when they were younger. I wish I could remember all their names" you pause as you try and think. "I've only met them once and that was a few years ago on my defense" he continues to watch the different people. "Oh that is her nanny. Vanessa comes from a very, very posh family so they could hire a nanny" you look around. Pulling at your bottom lip slightly with your teeth as you try and find a specific person. Shrugging slightly, downing the rest of your drink before muttering. "I can't see either of her parents"

You stand up. Causing his eyes to move from the crowd up to meet yours. "Do you want another drink?" he shakes his head. Watching as you go over to the drinks area. Grabbing a bottle and refilling your glass. You go to walk back over to your husband just as Vanessa comes up beside you. You smile at her, going to speak but she cuts you off.

"So... you got married" you nod, placing the lid of the bottle back on as you place it back onto the table. "That must be nice for you... " Turning to face her you take a sip of your drink "Thomas Shelby correct?". You nod again, getting ready to answer her 21 questions. "How did you two meet then?"

"I ran into him a few times around where we lived. We got closer once I became his neighbor. Once that happened one thing led to another and well - now we're married"

"Oh that's... sweet"

"You hesitated"

"No. No I didn't" you look at her, a smile taunting your lips as she shakes her head. Raising your eyebrow a fraction she lets out a sigh "Ok maybe I'm a bit hesitant" you lean against the table, picking your drink up.

"Why?"

"I just- I'm concerned for you" she comes closer to you, her eyes darting over at the man as she speaks in a hushed tone "I've heard about the Peaky Blinders. What they do. And who they are run by" you nod, watching as she moves a little bit away from you. Placing her hands either side of your arms. Almost holding you in place as she tilts her head down slightly. Looking at you through her eyebrows. As if the new angle could give a new perspective for either of you.

"I'm worried you've gotten yourself into a situation that you can't get yourself out of. That you've done something to end up here" you nod in understanding. Bringing your drink up to your lips as you take a sip. She continues "The violence that surrounds his name. The illegal acts that his family take part in. The affairs he has with every girl with a heart beat". Your eyes glance over to him. As if on cue a young, very attractive girl goes and sits next to him. You take a deep breath and look back at your friend. Smiling at her as you place your drink down. Taking her hands in yours as you look at your friend.

"I appreciate your concern. I do. And I love how much you care about me. But I am aware of who my husband is and the acts he gets up to in his free time" you look downward as you continue speaking slowly, thinking the words through before saying them out loud. "I know that - so long as I am his wife - my sisters and I will be protected from everyone who used to want me dead. I also know that my husband would never cause me harm as it wouldn't be in his best interest to hurt me"

Before either of you could continue your conversation, a youngish lad comes over. Asking your friend for a dance to which she accepts. You take this time to down your drink, pouring yourself another one before going back over to the table with Thomas at. The girl he was talking to stands up, smiling at you before turning to him. Gently resting her hand on his shoulder as she leans down. "I've got to go. My car is waiting for me. It was lovely seeing you today" she smiles, gently kissing his cheek before she stands up. "We should meet up again. Some time soon" he nods, watching her as she walks away.

"Who was that?" you ask.

"Just a girl. She thought I looked lonely so kept me company" you nod slightly.

"Sorry I would've come back sooner but I got talking to V" he nods and smiles softly at you as you turn to face him instead.

"How do you two know each other then, eh?" you let out a soft chuckle. Bringing your glass up to your lips, speaking before taking a sip of the liquid.

"I stole a large sum of money from her". His normal expressionless features turn to one of confusion instead. Causing you to let out a small chuckle, turning to watch your friend dancing as you talk to him. "I was 17. Stole her purse from her. I went to a poker game and won a good few times. She found out. I gave her back the money and the extra earnings I had made. She was impressed by how I had dealt with the money, how I stole it plus how I'd increased the earnings that she offered me a job. Working for her. Stealing for her. Being a spy of sorts. I denied the offer. I was young and knew if I started working for her then that would be it for life. But she took a liking to me. Let me stay in her house for a bit. I guess that's how we became friends"

You down the rest of your drink before placing it onto the table. Turning to face your husband. His features soft but unreadable as you watch him. You smile, standing up as you hold your hand out. A look of amusement on his face as he looks up at you.

"Lets go dance" he watches you. A smile threatens his lips before he places his hand into yours. Letting you essentially drag him to the dancing. The both of you engaging and dancing with other party goers. The song finishes and you all cheer for the band. He turns to you, gently resting his hand on your lower back as he whispers into your ear.

"You carry on dancing love. I'm going to sit down" you nod, smiling at him as you feel him move his hand from you. You take hands with one of the other party guests. Dancing with them in place of your husband.

A few more hours pass. You dance and drink throughout the night. That is until the party starts to disperse. Ending in the early hours of the morning. You say goodnight to your friends. Finding your husband sitting at a table. The girl from earlier that night sitting next to him again. You bite your bottom lip slightly. Unsure if you should go over and say something. He is your husband after all. But you arent jealous of the girl hes talking to, yes you find him attractive but you arent married to gim for romantic reasons. Because of this you decide to leave it.

Retiring to your bedroom for the night. Stumbling slightly as you make your way to the edge of the bed. Sitting onto it and regaining your balance. You must've drunk more then planned. Chuckling slightly at yourself, taking off your shoes. Starting to undo the buttons of your dress, the door opens. You automaticaly stop undressing as Thomas walks in. You smile at him softly before standing up and turning your back slightly. Undoing and taking off your dress. Leaving you in your bra, pants, and socks. Your husband takes off his blazer. You watch as he loosens and undoes his tie. Placing them onto a small armchair sitting in the bedroom.

"Mr Shelby?" you ask. Your voice quiet as to not disturb the other members of the house. He turns to face you, starting to undo his shirt buttons as he gives you his undivided attention. Your drunken mind taking over from your logical one. "Do you find me attractive?". He pauses. His hands that were undoing his buttons fall calmly to his sides. His piercing eyes standing out in the room as they watch you. The silence quickly falling onto your ears. You break your gaze with his, shaking your head slightly. Your slowly sobering mind catching up with your drunken one. "Sorry it was a stupid question. Just forget I asked it".

You reach your hands up. Fumbling with your earrings as you take them out. "Why would you think I don't find you attractive?". The suddenness of his voice making you jump slightly. You look at him. His gaze just as harsh as it was when you originally looked away.

"Please just-" you shake your head as you break his gaze "Forget I asked. Please. I think the alcohol from tonight is clouding my judgement"

"There must be some other reason behind this thought though eh?" you meet his eyes again. "You want a trusting relationship with me. This is a good way to start. So tell me - why are you suddenly asking this question"

"B-because..." you feel your cheeks start to turn a slight shade of red. His eyes dart to your cheeks, noticing the change of colour in them. He tries his best to hide the slight smirk that comes over his face

"You need to speak up love" he teases. You avoid his eyes. Speaking softly but loudly.

"We haven't had sex. Not since our wedding. I know that it's not because you're to busy for it. I've seen how you are with other woman. I know that you get it else where. I just- I assumed its because I was a social accessory. Not someone you would actually want to have sex with". There's a small pause before you hear him walk towards you. A soft grip onto your jaw as he tilts your head to look at him.

"This marriage was constructed for social reasons. Not sexual ones" he leans down, his eyes watching yours as his lips hover dangerously close to yours. "But if you want a fuck... Then I can give you a fuck". You pause a moment. Taking in what he said before you nod. A very quick but enthusiastic nod. Dropping your face he stands up straight. Taking a few steps back from you. His eyes grazing over your half naked form. You watch him. Waiting for his next move.

"Get undressed" he says. His eyes coming up and meeting yours. Never once breaking contact as you stand up. Slowly taking off your layers as he rolls his sleeves up and pushing his suspenders off of his shoulders. Watching your every movement as your undergarments soon become a small pile on the floor. You keep your arms by the side as he comes over to you. Closing the gap he created. Tilting your head up by your chin as you lock eyes with his. "Open you legs". You do as he says. The hand wondering from your chin, down your throat. Between your breasts. Over your stomach. Eventually finding that spot between your legs.

Your hands come up, resting onto his shoulders as he moves his fingers slowly over your clit. You flutter your eyes shut as soft moans leave your lips. Hands gripping his shoulders as he continues to work on the small bundle of nerves. You feel his finger move. Gently pushing two digits into your needy hole.

Another soft whine leaves your lips as he begins to slowly thrust his fingers in and out of you. "Poor thing. Already so wet for me. And I've been a neglectful husband. Not helping to attend to your needs". He puts his arm around your waist. Holding you close to him as he continues.

"P-please Mr Sh-Shelby" you manage to stutter out. Opening your eyes, your gaze connecting with his as he quickens his pace on you. Causing all logical thought to leave your head as you dig your nails into his shoulders. Feeling your orgasm building up and up. "Please. Please" you mumble. He smiles, watching as you start to crumble under him.

"You want to cum eh?" Feeling him curl his fingers inside of you. You nod

"Yes. Fuck yes. Please" he smiles. Kissing you harshly before he removes his fingers. Right before you could cum. "No. Please. Please" you beg. Your hips rutting against nothing as you try and get some sort of friction. He smiles. An almost sadistic smile as you grip at his shirt.

"Its ok love. I'll let you cum before morning". He kisses you again. Enjoying the small grunt you make as your mouths connect. He pulls away. Pushing you gently away from him, perching you onto the end of the bed. You watch as he starts to undo the buttons of his shirt. You bite your bottom lip. Watching his hands remove the delicate fabric. Your eyes fixated on him removing his trousers and underwear. His clothes becoming forgotten on the floor as he walks over to you.

He doesn't hesitate as he pushes his lips back onto yours. Your hand going to the back of his head as the other holds his bicep. His hands going to either side of your face. The slight taste of alcohol on both of your tongues as you continue to kiss each other. He holds you close to him as he pushes you to lie down. Him coming on top of you as you put a leg either side of him. He breaks away from the kiss, gently running the back of his fingers down the side of your face. Your soft smile quickly changing as he pushes himself into you.

"Holy fuck". You groan out. Eyes fluttering as he bottoms out. Kissing your neck before he pulls out completely. Pushing himself back into you. Repeating this action, slowly but precise. His tip hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust. He keeps eye contact with you as he rests his forehead onto yours. Your hands go to his cheeks. Soft whimpers leaving your lips as he begins to fasten his pace. That familiar feeling building up again.

"I didn't think... that a girl as smart as you... could be fucked... into being so dumb... so easily" he says. Emphasizing every few words with a thrust. The words going straight to your core, causing you to tighten around him. He lets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a grunt. Kissing you as he also gets closer to his own high.

"C-can I cu-cum? Pl-please?" he smies. Kissing you again before speaking.

"Let me feel this pretty pussy cum around my cock" you moan out. Shutting your eyes tightly as you ball your hands into fists. Letting your orgasm wash over you. Tightening around his length. A few more thrusts and he hits his own high. Pushing deep into you as he lets his cum fill you up. The both of you breathe deeply. Catching your breath as you gently run your hands over his shoulder blades. Shutting your eyes as you feel him start to go soft inside of you.

He plants a deep kiss to your lips before he pulls out of you. He cleans himself up, putting his boxers back on. You sit up. Bringing your knees up to your chest. He grabs out a pack of cigarettes, rolling one over his lips before placing it into his mouth. Taking out a lighter and lighting the end. He draws a drag from it. Taking it from his lips with his thumb and forefinger he hands it to you. Exhaling the smoke, you watch as it falls around him. You take the item, placing it into your mouth. Shutting your eyes as you let the nicotine fill your body.

Opening your eyes you take the cigarette from your lips. Standing up you give it back to him. Grabbing some sort of cloth to clean yourself up with before placing your night clothes over yourself. His eyes watch you as you make your way over to the bed. Getting underneath the covers you hear the birds start to chirp outside. A tired smile appears on your lips as you look over at the window. You nestle down under the duvet. Bringing it close to your face as you get warm. Knowing you have a couple of hours before you need to be awake.

A few minutes pass, feeling movement in the bed next to you. You open your eyes, seeing Thomas getting in next to you. He rests on his back, bringing an arm up to rest behind his head. Your eyes scan over his profile. The early morning sun sneaking in past the curtains, making his skin look beautiful as he lies next to you. You shut your eyes again. Speaking softly to him

"Sleep well, Mr Shelby"

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin

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[gilverrwrites]

Some people have all the luck

Two-Face/Reader, 1.2K words Idk, writing that match-up with good ol' Harv sparked something in my brain and I haven't stopped thinking about him since. I just had to write something. Using his Arkham design in the divider but this isn't specific to that portrayal. [1/2] Already at rock bottom, Two-Face offers you the chance to test your luck. Rating: 18+

CWs: Drunk reader, smoking, implied threats of violence, sexually suggestible themes - nothing explicit, swearing, Reader is kind of a dick - but hey, we all have bad days.

Please: never apologise for being yourself.

It had been a terrible, awful, shitty day, but somebody else’s was about to be worse. 

Perhaps because you were too drunk to even think of minding your own business, or perhaps because you wanted to see somebody else’s day ruined, you watch, lucid and transfixed as a strong, grotesque hand clutches the arm of another drunken bar patron.

You’d clocked him as soon as he’d entered; tall, dark, and intriguingly handsome in ways you didn’t care to decipher. His suit was crisp, hugging him in all the right places, a cigar situated cleanly between his teeth. 

The unlucky girl had been in a world of her own, dancing amongst friends. The poor thing hadn’t been looking where she was going, and hadn’t seen him coming despite his very noticeable presence. She’d spun around, colliding with his large frame, spilling her cocktail all over his two-tone suit. 

Their voices can barely be heard over the blaring music, but she looks to be begging, hunched over in a show of submission, trying desperately to reel back her trapped arm. 

When he drops his cigar to the floor, putting it out easily as he reaches into his suit jacket to pull out his signature coin, you sit up straighter. At least you try to, your intoxicated body only allows you to lean further onto your table, angling for a better view. 

The silver dollar glints under the spotlights as it flips through the air and lands back in his good hand. 

His lips move, either an omen of what’s to come, or a warning for the future and then… 

He releases his grip. She bows her head lower, and then she’s gone, disappearing amongst the crowd. Disappointing. 

That should have been it, you should have averted your gaze when it was over, nursed your drink, watched somebody else, someone less dangerous. In all honestly, you don’t even realise you’re still staring until he’s standing directly on the other side of your table, glaring back at you. Half glaring. The unmarred side of his face, the ‘handsome Harvey’ side as the paper used to bill him, with a sharp jawline and high cheekbone seems softer, sadder. It looks at you like you’re a lost puppy, begging your safety.

The other side not so much; It's still handsome, all the trademark features of his right side still there, under layers of sharp, twisted skin. It doesn’t seem so bad up close, strangely attractive even, if not for the veiny yellow eye that appears to be routing for your demise. 

You can’t help but wonder how much of your perception of his supposed conflicting expressions is real, and how much of it is fuelled by his portrayals in the media, by the uneven shapes of his face under the blinking lights, by your own dubious emotions. 

“What are you looking at?” His voice is low, gravelly, threatening. More of a growl that emanates from his puffed-out chest. 

Had you been sober, you likely would have let your panic show, would have stuttered over your words, would have uttered a thousand apologies, not unlike his previous target. Instead, you continue to peer up at him as you take a slow sip of your drink, struggling to find your coaster when you place it back on the table. 

“I just can’t believe she got away with that.” The words come out slurred, but more confident than you’d expected. “Some people have all the luck.” 

Maybe your statement, maybe your demeanour, but something about you seems to amuse him. The space where an eyebrow would sit on his left side raises, his head twists to the side, showing you more of his undamaged side. 

“Not you?” His voice is still gruff and husky, but his tone is lighter now, entertained. 

“Me? Nah. If I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” You try to make some form of gesture with your arms, but all you manage to do is spill a tipple from your drink. Finally looking away from him, you grab way too many napkins whilst trying and clean up your spillage. 

Distracted, you don’t notice his rounding the table until you hear the sound of metal knocking on glass far too close for comfort. Your eyes dart to the noise. His hand is beside yours, tapping his coin against the table. You unabashedly track your eyes up his body, taking in his dexterous hand, muscular arms, broad shoulders, until you’re face to face again.

Even as you’re perched on the bar stool his standing frame still towers over you. Up close he smells like smoke and jasmine. He radiates authority and malice that should caution you, should send you running. But for some reason you find yourself intrigued, captivated by his formidable presence. 

Presumably satisfied to have your attention once again, he brings the coin up close to your face, turning it back and forth between his fingers, displaying its two sides. One clean and shiny, the other dented and scratched, a mirror image of himself. 

“Care to test that theory?” What a terrifying prospect, the answer is clearly no, but it’s obvious you don’t really have a choice in the matter. Your only hope is that it lands on his good side. 

“Not really, but by all means.” Your attempt to crack a joke seems to land. The left side of his face doesn’t have much of a mouth, but the muscles twitch upwards in a manner that implies a smile. 

You watch with bated breath, teeth digging into your lower lip as the coin jolts into the air. It lands in the palm of his hand, and he closes his fingers over it quickly, denying you a chance to glimpse the results. 

“This is the part where they usually try to run away.” He comments, and you really can’t tell if he’s trying to make his own joke or not. You tilt your body away from him, buzzed brain trying and failing to locate an escape path. Then you look at your feet, heavy and unbalanced due to the sheer amount of booze you’d been trying to drown yourself in. 

“I would but…” I wouldn’t get far, I don’t think I can, I’d probably just fall flat on my face. Warm, rough skin meets your chin, directing your slackened face back to his. When you look up at him, your heart races under his lurid gaze. “I don’t want to.” 

His fingers move deftly, opening just enough for him to glimpse the result before placing it back in his inner pocket. Still declining you a peek at your fate. 

The same rugged skin that had held your face now rakes down your body, dropping lower until it’s wrapped around your waist, easily hoisting you from your seat and onto unsteady feet. The crowd parts with every step, eager not to get in his way. You wonder how you look to the masses, like lovers heading home for the night? Like a father caring for his inebriated child? His vice-like, bruising grip around your body implies something far less tender. 

You spot the girl from earlier, pale and shaking amongst a group of girlfriends attempting to calm her. She offers you a solemn, pitying look. Perhaps this is your penance for routing for her downfall. 

“Wh- what are you- where are we…” You trip over your words, nerves finally getting the better of your vocal cords. His expression gives nothing away. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know.” 

[mariposa-writes]

The Assistant - Part 2

Summary: I hate writing summaries...

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: let me know what you think! I love feedback, thanks!

It was 9:56 when Travis texted you asking for your apartment number. You didn't bother replying and just walked outside to find his car, which was parked in front of the unit you stayed in.

He was standing outside the car, leaning against the hood. "I was going to see if you needed help." He said, opening the door for you.

"I'm fine, but thanks."

"So this is where you live?" He asks eyeing the building suspiciously.

You could tell he wasn't fond of the place and wouldn't be spending an extra time here if he didn't have too. Argentine wasn't the best area to live it, but it was more affordable than Johnson County.

"Do you live with anyone?" Travis asked, realizing he really didn't know much about you.

"Nope."

"Maybe you should." He said under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear.

"Why would I? I like living alone."

"Well, I was just thinking that maybe if you had a roommate you could afford a nicer and safer place."

You were slightly offended that he was judging your apartment so harshly. "It's not a bad place to live. Most of the neighbors are good people, just trying to survive with the little money they have."

"You said most not all." You rolled your eyes, already regretting this little doctors appointment.

"Well the few that aren't so great stay out of the way. They actually aren't that bad, they try to keep the violence away from where the kids play and try not to included innocent people in their beef." You liked where you lived, maybe you could do without the nightly gunshots but for the most part it wasn't bad.

"Alright, whatever you say." He said holding up a hand in mock surrender, while keeping the other on the steering wheel.

The rest of the ride was relatively quiet, besides the music playing softly in the background.

———

The doctor’s appointment went well and in 5 days you were supposed to have your surgery. You just first had to get your knee to bend to a 90 degree angle.

You spent all week working on it, and it was much harder than you thought it would be. You were about to call your best friend when Travis’s called ID popped up in your screen.

“Hello?” You said answering the phone, confused on why he was calling

“Hey, it’s Travis” he replied

“Yea, I know.” You we’re wracking your brain on why he was calling when it finally hit you. “You’re not calling to cancel on me tomorrow right?” You asked starting to worry.

You let your mind get the best of you more often than you’d like to admit.

“What? No. I was actually calling to see if you wanted to stay here so we wouldn’t have to wake up as early tomorrow” he explained, “ I know you’re not really a morning person.”

“Uhh, are you sure?” Over the past year and a half while working for Travis you’d had many late night and early mornings, but you had never once stayed over at his house. Even if you were only gonna get 3 hours of sleep, you would go home for them.

To be honest, you didn’t really want to be alone tonight. You were nervous about the surgery, even though it was a basic routine. You’d never been out under the knife before and this was stressing you out more than you cared to admit.

“Yea, I’m sure. I can pick you up in an hour. Also the doctor said you’d need someone to watch over you so I figured you could stay at my house for a few days. Maria will be here and she can help you.”

“Okay, sounds good. See you in an hour.”

About an hour later Travis was knocking on your door. “It’s open” you yelled from your bedroom. He slowly entered not, wanting to over step.

“You ready to go?” He called.

“Yea, just grabbing my bag.” You walked into the living room with ur bag slung over your shoulder. Travis was standing in the middle of your living room, looking around at what he could see.

Your apartment had always been the perfect size for you, one bedroom with a living room, kitchen, and bathroom but with Travis in the room it suddenly felt to small.

He hadn’t noticed that you had walked in yet, you cleared your throat getting his attention “Ready to go?” You chipped, ready to get Travis out of your space.

He cleared his throat like he’d forgotten how to talk. “Yea, let’s go.” He took your bag from you and and carried it to the car.

It was silent for the first half of the ride, which you were normally fine with. You guys didn’t talk much unless it had to do with work. “Thanks for doing this Travis.”

“Yea, it’s not a big deal.”

You wanted to protest tell him that it was a big deal. He was paying for the extra expenses you couldn’t cover, he got you a good doctor, and most importantly he was there for you through this whole thing so far.

Which was something you never expected from him. You expected him to fire you since you wouldn’t be able to do your job for at least three weeks.

Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought. He wasn’t ever some raging asshole boss, but he liked things a certain way.

You guys never talked about your personal lives, you knew more about his due to your job but you never openly discussed or asked about his. You just let him tell you what he wanted to.

He pulled into his garage and helped you out if the car. Your knee was only getting worse, it was giving out more often and becoming more painful to walk on.

Travis kept a hand on the small of your back, the whole way into the house. Catching you when your knee gave out, on the way to his kitchen. "Hungry?" He asked as you sat down on the stool at the island in his kitchen.

"Yes, but I can't eat until after the surgery tomorrow."

"I forgot that you had to fast."

"Yup, worst thing about this dumb surgery." You laughed, earning a small chuckle from Travis.

"Ok, I figured it'd be best if you stayed in my room since there's no stairs to get there. Maria changed the sheets and set it all up for you."

"You don't have to give up your room."

"It's fine, I'll be staying in one of the guest rooms upstairs."

"Travis-"

"Don't argue." He said placing a glass of water in front of you. You glared at him, but didn't argue. "I have some stuff I need to do tonight, but I was thinking we could hang out once I'm done."

"Yea, that's fine."

"Perfect, make yourself at home. I'll find you when I'm done." You nodded as he walked upstairs to his office. You got off the couch, not sure what to do. You felt like you needed to work and be doing something productive.

But instead you sat on his couch and powered on his gaming console. He already had NBA 2k23 in so you decided to play that. You play with the kids in your apartment complex when you watch them for their mom. She normally pays you back in the best baked goods in the world.

You'd been playing for about an hour when Travis walked into the living room. "You play?"

"Yea."

"You any good?" He asked sitting down besides you and grabbing the other remote.

"I'm okay," You lied not wanting to brag. You liked to think you'd gotten pretty good at the game, often times beating the kids you watched. "Why, wanna play?"

"Yup, just don't be sad when I beat you."

"Ok," You said, rolling your eyes.

The rest of the night consisted of you and Travis playing different videos games, you beating him in NBA and MLB. He beat you at Madden, "That's not fair you have an advantage over me!" You protested, "You can think all strategically about the game since you play in real life!"

"Oh, your just mad you lost." He said powering off the console. "You're a sore loser." he mumbled.

"I am not a sore loser. It just doesn't happen often so I'm not used to it."

"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not believing you.

"Yea! See your used to it, I'm not." You smirked, knowing you were getting under his skin.

"I'm used to it? Who has a super bowl ring and who doesn't?" He asked pointing between you two.

"Oh, that was like 2 seasons ago, get over it." You laughed, as he rolled his eyes.

"Alright, well I think this is a sign to call it a night. We gotta be ready to go by 6:15."

"Okay." You nodded, getting off the couch. Travis walked you to his room.

It felt surreal being in his room. You rarely came in here, not ever really needing too. If you did come in it was to grab something from his closet real quick and leave. "Bathrooms, in there. Call if you need anything."

He said getting ready to leave, just as he was about to close the door you called him. "Travis?"

"Yea?"

"Thank you." He smiled, "I mean it."

"I know, you're welcome. Now go to bed." He shut the door to his room and you could hear him walking away from the door. You climbed into his bed, it was comfier than you could ever imagine and it smelled like him despite Maria changing the sheets.

[lilyway]

Tainted Melody {Alastor x Reader} CH 1

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Death and canon-typical violence. Please be aware of these warnings going forward.

Sequel to Icarus! Please read that here first.

Prologue | Chapter 1 |

Chapter 1: The Price Paid

Moving herself to the edge of the bed she placed her feet on the ground and jolted them back to the bed. There was a layer of cold water at her feet, sighing to herself she placed her feet back in. Now, sitting at the edge she weighed her options as a reflection loomed over her. It was a familiar pair of red eyes with a smile on his face. 

Alastor's reflection appeared, his signature red eyes and ever-present smile casting a familiar warmth in her chest. (Name)'s gaze softened at the sight of him. "Good morning, Alastor. It's nice to see you again."

Yet, something felt off. The soft hints of a music box played around her, coming from every angle but faint enough to be ignored.  Alastor's presence looming over her made it difficult for her to focus.

The glint in Alastor's eyes softened as he peered down at her. "Good morning, Sunshine." How she missed hearing him and his voice.  

Patting the bed, (Name) motioned for him to sit beside her. "How long was I asleep, Darling?" The awkwardness hung in the air, and she searched for the right words.

Alastor took a seat, his gaze fixed forward. "Oh, only about six months. You've had quite the beauty sleep, my dear." His tone teased, and (Name) deflated at the realization of how long her ‘little’ nap was. 

"I must've worried you," (Name) couldn’t help but feel guilty. Her grip tightening around her nightgown as she glanced down at her hands.

Alastor nodded slightly. "That you did, my dear. But, there you are, right as rain!"

(Name) moved to cup his cheek, but a lock of her hair fell into view. The pearly white strands made her shudder as her heart dropped. Grasping a fistful of her hair, she realized the dream was real. Her eyes met her husband's with pure fear, attempting to conceal the drastic change in color.

She needed to find that music box, maybe that could turn her appearance back to normal. Alasor couldn’t see her like this. He absolutely couldn’t look at her. (Name)'s fingers tangled in her hair as she tried to mask her distress, she felt absolutely ashamed. 

Alastor's gaze briefly flickered down to (Name)'s hair and placed a soft pat on her head. In that fleeting moment, the weight of fear lifted from (Name)'s eyes. Alastor grinned as he felt her relax under his touch as it soothed her. 

He remembers.

Rising to his full height, Alastor studied (Name)'s new appearance with a grin on his face. Her once brown locks, now replaced by cascading waves of pearly white hair, seemed to shimmer under the soft light of the room. Her honey eyes that expressed her every emotion with such care, were now traded in too. Replaced by a pair of golden angelic eyes that masked her emotions.

Alastor narrowed his eyes as her eyes painted a mark on her back. Those eyes would bring every vengeful sinner in Pentagram City after her.

But, there was something wrong with his dear wife — there was something missing. 

She looked so small with that look in her eye. "Thank you for watching over me," She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, my dear.” Alastor extended a hand to her. “Now, are you feeling well enough to join me for some breakfast?” His smile beckoned her to take it and she didn’t know if could. 

(Name) stared at his hand for a moment before taking it. “I... I suppose so.” Alastor pulled her up with a gentle tug, she couldn't help but notice the care and consideration in his actions. He’s being mindful to not reopen her wounds. 

As (Name)'s fingers brushed briefly against Alastor's hand before retreating, she couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the warmth of his touch. She understood that Alastor was not one to seek out physical contact, and she respected his boundaries, even if it meant sacrificing the comfort it brought her. But, (Name) would make do. 

Alastor took the lead and guided her out of the woods; there was a sharp contrast of where his magic started and where his actual room started. Yet, as she glanced around the room, she couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. It lacked the personal touches and sentimental trinkets she had expected to find. Now that she was thinking about it, it was more of a meeting room. 

With her quick glances around she couldn’t spot the music box anywhere. (Name) wanted to  explore the room a little more for it. But, Alastor was holding the door open for her and she couldn’t keep him waiting. 

With a swift and graceful movement, (Name) hurriedly made her way through the doorway. She gathered the ends of her skirt, lifting them slightly, and with a charming and cute courtesy. How she missed doing her small thank you gestures with him, it was like they were back in New Orleans. (Name) could see his ever-present smile widen as he bowed to her. 

The awkwardness was slowly shedding as they walked side by side.(Name) struggled to maintain strength in her legs, the wobbling and shaking threatening to make her fall. She was hoping her husband and his observant eyes didn’t notice. 

However, her hopes were dashed as Alastor abruptly stopped walking and turned around, closing the distance between them in a swift motion. His sudden proximity caught (Name) off guard. “Having some issues, Sunshine?” Alastor's voice held a hint of amusement, a playful twinkle dancing in his eyes as he awaited her response.

(Name) furrowed her brows at him. “Please don’t tease me, Darling,” Alastor leaned into her ear as he watched his wife’s face burn.

A chuckle escaped Alastor's lips as he smiled. “Me? A tease, I would never.” Alastor gave her a mischievous smile as he turned around and kept walking. 

(Name) stood frozen, caught off guard by Alastor's sudden proximity as he spoke into her ear. His closeness left her stunned as Alastor’s long legs already had him halfway down the hallway. When she regained her senses she instinctively ran after him. She felt a jolt of pain that brought her hand to her stomach as she stumbled over. 

Alastor caught her before she fell and swept her off her feet. “My, my, seems I might have overestimated your recovery.”

(Name)’s face turned bright red as she stared up at Alastor who looked back down at her. “Alastor!” She squeaked, her voice trembling with embarrassment. “What are you doing?” Her shaking voice wasn’t doing much to help her case.

Alastor's smirk widened, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he held her close to his chest. "Ah, but you seemed in such a rush to catch up with me. I thought I'd save you the trouble," He replied, his voice laced with amusement as he continued down the hallway towards the kitchen, effortlessly carrying her along.

As they moved forward, (Name) found herself enveloped in the warmth of his embrace, her heart fluttering with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. "Thank you..."

Alastor continued to hum to himself as they made their way down the hallway and descended the grand stairway. The silence of the empty corridors contrasted sharply with the brightly lit surroundings, the darkness beyond the windows a stark reminder of the hour. (Name) couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, realizing that her awakening must have roused Alastor from his needed rest. It kept her quiet until he reached the bottom of the stairway. 

“Darling, you can put me down now," Alastor gently lowered her back down and offered her an arm to hold. 

“Of course, my dear.” 

“Thank you.” Thanked him with a bright smile as they continued their way to the kitchen. 

“Don’t mention it.” It was difficult keeping up with Alastor. But, having him by her side was enough. 

As (Name) and Alastor passed by the glowing bar, her attention was drawn to a cat-like demon with wings hunched over the counter, a bottle clutched in his hands. Despite appearing half asleep, his ears perked up as he sensed their presence, his gaze snapping up with a surprised look as he saw Alastor. 

From his attire and demeanor, it was evident that he was more than just a mere patron; He exuded an air of experience with too much on his mind. He seemed like someone (Name) would’ve enjoyed speaking to back when she was alive. The stories he would be able to tell would’ve all been amazing.

“The hell.” The bartender's voice cut through the air, halting (Name) in her tracks. His voice was one of irritation that laced his voice.  

Alastor instinctively stepped between them, shielding (Name) from the bartender's view. “Darling, who is that?” (Name) asked as she looked up at Alastor. 

Alastor's response was casual, a dismissive shrug accompanied by a grin. "Pay him no mind, my dear. It’s just the help ," He replied, brushing off her question with nonchalance.

(Name) nodded in understanding, accepting Alastor's explanation as he gently nudged her forward, a reassuring hand resting on her back.

Meanwhile, the bartender's scoff echoed behind them, a bitter retort punctuated by the sound of his long gulp from the bottle. "Help, my ass. Since when do you play babysitter?" He quipped, his words dripping with sarcasm and resentment.

As (Name) gazed up at Alastor, she felt a strange sensation coursing through her, the strands of her hair seeming to stand on end. Alastor’s features contorted with anger — the small antlers atop his head were growing in size, their sharp edges glinting ominously in the dim light.

“Darling, that’s enough.” (Name)'s voice cut through the tension, her tone firm yet laced with an underlying plea for peace.

Alastor's gaze softened as he met (Name)'s pleading eyes, her presence calming his anger slightly. With her hands resting gently on his chest, she implored him to relent. 

"As you wish," Alastor relented, though the dissatisfaction lingered in his eyes. He respected (Name)'s wishes, but he wasn’t too happy.

Meanwhile, the bartender's snide remarks continued, his words like daggers slicing through the air. "Well, aren't you the bleeding heart all of a sudden?" He taunted, his tone dripping with disdain.

Ignoring his provocation, (Name) guided Alastor away from the confrontation, her steps echoing in the quiet hallway as they made their way to the kitchen. Concern etched into her features, she turned to him, her voice tinged with worry. "You okay, Darling?"

“Of course, Sunshine.” (Name) doesn’t press further and just keeps her mouth shut. There’s too much she doesn’t know and that includes his current relationships. 

Stepping into the kitchen, (Name) found herself in awe of the space before her. It was unlike anything she had ever seen—spacious, modern, and filled with an array of appliances that seemed to belong in a professional chef's domain. The large fridge, complete with a separate cooler, caught her eye, while the ample cabinet space left her marveling at the organization and efficiency of it all.

As she took in her surroundings, (Name) couldn't help but feel a sense of wonderment at the sight before her. While the large marble island was in the center of the room, it was a massive slab of marble. There were some stools tucked underneath for easy access.

Alastor, pulled out a stool for her, and (Name) gratefully accepted. It felt slightly awkward to be sitting there, the kitchen was his domain back when they were alive. (Name) watched him move about the kitchen with a practiced ease.

Watching him check the contents of the fridge, (Name) couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the times when Alastor would take charge in the kitchen, his culinary skills a stark contrast to her own clumsiness. Back when she was alive, he had been the one to prepare their meals.  She could cook, barely. All she could make were cookies, some very poisonous cookies. 

The sort that had her banned from cooking. 

"Craving anything in particular?" Alastor's question brought her back to the present, his gentle voiced invited her to the past.

(Name)'s smile turned sheepish as she leaned against the counter, her hands resting lightly on the smooth surface. "Your mother's soup would be nice. The one you used to make all the time," 

A small flicker of nostalgia danced in Alastor's eyes at the mention of his mother, his expression softening with fond memories. "That would be my pleasure, Sunshine.”

As (Name) observed Alastor turn his back and deftly rummage through the ingredients in the fridge, a sense of admiration washed over her. Each item he selected was placed on the counter with precision, his movements graceful and deliberate. Yet, her attention couldn't help but be drawn to the new addition atop his head—the fluffy deer ears.

Those fluffy ears held a certain charm, a silent communicator of his emotions and thoughts. (Name) couldn't help but notice how they subtly shifted, revealing the small fluctuations in his smiles and the depth of his feelings. At that moment, as they drooped downwards to avoid the cold metal of the fridge, she found herself captivated by the small motions they did. 

It was undeniably cute, even adorable. (Name) felt a giggle bubble up within her, unable to contain her amusement at the sight before her. Alastor, with his fluffy deer ears, seemed like an unexpected yet perfect match.

“Something amusing you, Sunshine?” Alastor seemed amused to see her in a fit of giggles. 

She shook her head and tried to calm herself down. “Oh! Nothing at all.”

He just turned back around and went back to his cooking. The way was able to find everything he needed in such a massive kitchen was impressive. It looked brand new, well everything in the building looked new. The kitchen in particular seemed spotless. 

As (Name) continued to watch Alastor move around the kitchen, a sense of unease began to creep over her. The melody that had been playing faintly in her ears was now growing louder, drowning everything else out. She hunched over the counter, her vision blurring as waves of dizziness washed over her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, its rhythm erratic and frantic. Alarm bells rang in her ears, their piercing sound echoing through her mind like a warning of impending danger. Panic surged through her veins, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Frantically, she reached out for something to steady herself, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter with white-knuckled intensity. Every movement felt like an effort, every breath a struggle against the rising tide of fear that threatened to engulf her.

Can you hear me?

It was the voice from before, what did it want now? She thought they already figured out their deal. There wasn't anything they would need.

She tried to ignore them as (Name) focused on keeping her eyes open and not falling unconscious. “Leave me alone…” That was the best (Name) could give as a response. Everything hurt too much for anything longer. 

As everything around her spun in a dizzying whirl, (Name) felt a surge of panic gripping her chest. With trembling hands, she reached out, grasping at her chest in a desperate attempt to make the spinning stop. In that moment of disorientation, Alastor's ears perked up, his keen senses picking up on her distress. With a sense of urgency, he quickly returned to her side.

"Sunshine, are you alright?" His words were her only lifeline in her pain and she clung to them to try and stable herself. 

(Name) pressed herself against him, seeking some sort of solace in his presence. With each heartbeat, she felt a wave of nausea wash over her, the world around her fading into a blur of indistinct shapes and colors. And then, as if from a distance, she felt something warm trickle down her stomach.  She didn’t want to distress him, but she may have ripped open her wound at some point. 

Oh dear, are you okay? The voice that echoed in her head was nothing more than nails on a chalkboard. Well, this is odd. The voice disappeared, taking the music box’s melody with it. 

With that her eyes focused and the world stopped spinning. But, the pain in her chest and stomach remained. But, it was better than feeling like she was going to pass out at any second. (Name) pulled herself up and off her husband, she felt a little ashamed of herself for touching him so much. 

"I may have reopened my wound," (Name) confessed, her voice trembling with a mixture of pain and concern. Placing a hand on her stomach, she felt the warm stickiness of blood on her fingertips. With a heavy heart, she raised her hand to show Alastor the golden blood staining her skin.

With a snap of Alastor’s fingers a first aid kit appeared in his hands. “Do you need any help, Sunshine?” He placed the first aid kit in front of her. 

“Thank you, Darling. But, I should be alright.” (Name) shook her head as tried to use her blessing to heal her injury. It was a mistake as it made her heart burn return.

Alastor’s eyes lingered on her bloody hand for a long moment. “That’s quite the mishap, my dear.” 

“Alastor?” (Name) squeaked as her face flushed a deep red. 

Alastor laced his fingers with hers as he brought it to his lips. “It seems you still have that bad habit of getting yourself into trouble, Sunshine.

There was a jolt up her spine as she felt his tongue on her fingers. “Alastor, now is not the time…” (Name) could feel her voice rising as she tried to maintain her composure. 

Alastor looked up at her and that was all she needed to shut up. He seemed to be enjoying the taste as (Name) was wishing for her blush to calm down. Her mind was racing as Alastor finished licking her hand clean as she noticed his shadow kept cooking. 

Alastor leaned into her ear as he lowered his voice. “Your blood looked rather appetizing, Sunshine. I couldn't resist a taste. It tastes divine.” 

(Name) almost fell out of her chair, before Alastor caught her with an arm around her back. “Is this your way of amusing yourself? Or, is this a punishment?” She was a mess and it was all thanks to him. 

“Punish you? Perish the thought, my dear..” That smirk made her think otherside. 

(Name) narrowed her eyes at him and surrendered. “Thank you, Honey.” Alastor helped sit upright as she hid her face with her hair.

Felt his magic around her body and her clothes were changed along with new bandages around her wound. “Always complicating things, aren't you?” (Name) was now convinced his stunt from seconds ago was her punishment. 

“I didn’t mean to.” (Name) gave him a smile as she made a mental note to get her vengeance later. “Darling, the water is boiling.” 

That made Alastor’s shadow return to him as his ears perked up. “You’re right, my dear.” 

As Alastor returned to his cooking, (Name) took a moment to collect herself, her mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. It was the first time he had ever done anything like that, at least from what she could remember. Even in their shared memories from their younger years, when they were alive and still in their twenties, such playful antics had been rare.

As (Name) took the time to regain her  composure, Alastor kept himself busy with his cooking. (Name) couldn’t help but smile when he put on an apron to keep his clothes clean. He really was still her husband even with his new appearance. 

The sound of footsteps walking into the kitchen made (Name) look over. It was a very sleepy Charlie yawning as she tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes. 

“Good morning, Charlotte. You're up early.” Alastor glanced back slightly as he spoke before returning his focus on his cooking. 

“Cooking early, this morning.” Charlie commented as she took a seat next to (Name). She seemed a little too tired to notice she was right next to her. 

“Good morning, Charlie. Did you sleep well?” (Name) asked with a small smile. The last time she saw Charlie was during the extermination, there was a wave of joy rushing through her knowing that she survived. 

“I slept great! Thank yo-” Charlie jumped out of her chair and stumbled to. “Holy shit! I didn't see you there.” Yup, Charlie was still half asleep. 

“That's alright.” (Name) smiled as tried to help Charlie back into her chair. 

“Wait, Al! You promised to tell me when she woke up!” Charlie seemed a little disappointed. 

(Name) glanced over at Alastor. “Which would be after breakfast.” 

“I woke up, perhaps an hour ago?” (Name) replied as she tried to soothe the disappointment around Charlie. 

"I'm so glad you're okay! You should've seen, Al. He was worri-" Charlie's words were cut off by Alastor giving her a pointed look.

"Charlotte," He interjected firmly.

"Oops! My bad!" Charlie rubbed the back of her head, sheepishly apologizing for her slip-up.

(Name) giggled as Alastor scolded Charlie for saying something she should've kept to herself.

Charlie was still the same old Charlie who was nothing but sunshine and rainbows. It was something that (Name) was happy for. People like her were few and far between. 

"Oh! Welcome back, by the way," Charlie greeted warmly, her smile brightening the room as Alastor's ears perked up with curiosity.

"Thank you, it's good to be back," (Name) replied, returning the smile as Alastor continued to work on the meal, adding spices to the pot and placing a lid on it with practiced ease.

"You know each other?" Alastor questioned, his interest piqued as he returned to (Name)'s side.

(Name) hesitated, not eager to recall the details of their previous meeting, which had not gone as smoothly as she had hoped. "Yup! During my meeting with Adam," Charlie explained. As (Name) shifted in discomfort at hearing Adam’s name. 

"Right. It was pretty brief. But, Charlie was the highlight of that visit," (Name) added, attempting to steer the conversation away from the memories she would rather forget.

"Soo, if you don't mind me asking," Charlie began, her enthusiasm palpable as a big smile lit up her face.

(Name) braced herself, uncertain of where Charlie's line of questioning might lead. Nevertheless, she offered a polite invitation for Charlie to proceed. "Go ahead. It's not a bother."

Charlie seemed a little awkward asking, but did so anyway. “You guys seem close, well you guys have to be close if he was so worried. I mean, Al isn't the type of guy to worry about people so much. So, ugh. What I'm trying to ask is, are you guys dating?” Charlie's words tumbled out in a rush, a jumble of thoughts and emotions compressed into a single question.

(Name) glanced up at Alastor for permission, though the unspoken understanding between them rendered words unnecessary.

"He's my husband," (Name) stated simply, her voice carrying a note of quiet certainty.

"We’re married, Charlotte," Alastor confirmed, his tone gentle yet firm.

Charlie's reaction was delayed, her jaw dropping slowly as she processed the revelation. (Name) watched with concern as she seemed momentarily stunned by the news, her mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of the revelation.

Alastor helped (Name) up out of her chair as (Name) gently shook Charlie. “Charlie? Are you okay?” 

Charlie's loud squeal echoed through the kitchen, eliciting a mixture of amusement and surprise from (Name). She instinctively stepped back and covered her ears, taken aback by the sudden burst of noise.

"No way! I mean, that makes so much sense!" Charlie exclaimed, her excitement blooming around the young princess. 

(Name) couldn't help but smile at Charlie's exuberance, grateful that Alastor remained composed in the face of Charlie’s enthusiastic reaction. Charlie's genuine excitement was truly priceless.

“Do you have a sweetheart, Charlie?” (Name) asked curiously if Charlie had any lovers of her own. She was always a sucker for this sort of talk. 

Before Charlie could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps reverberated down the hallway, heralding the arrival of two unexpected guests. (Name)'s heart dropped as she recognized the woman who entered the kitchen, her features were unmistakable. She may have grown out her hair and lost an eye, but it had to be her.

Heaven must truly be testing her. 

Accompanying the woman was a short blond man in pajamas, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. (Name) didn't recognize him, but her gaze focused on Vaggie as she couldn’t help but glare. 

They both spoke at the same time, their voices filled with worry. "Charlie! Is everything okay?"

“Oh! Hey Dad! Morning, Maggie!” The way their faces filled with relief as they took their seats next to Charlie. 

“Good morning.” (Name) greeted with a small wave of her own. 

The blonde man's gaze focused on Alastor, his eyes narrowing with an unspoken challenge. "Who's that, Charlie?" he inquired, curiosity and suspicion evident in his voice.

"Oh! Right, Dad, Vaggie," Charlie turned to (Name), and without hesitation, she rose and planted a kiss on Vaggie's lips. "Meet (Name), she’s a friend."

(Name), feeling a bit out of place, offered a hesitant greeting. "Hello. Nice to meet you." She couldn't help but notice that the blonde man, introduced as 'Dad', didn't quite match the image of the all-powerful ruler of Hell.

Vaggie shot her a suspicious look, and (Name) reciprocated with a subtle raise of her own brow. “Nice meeting you.”

Lucifer eyed Alastor suspiciously. “A friend, huh? Well, then. What a pleasure meeting you.”

(Name) glanced up at Alastor with a raised brow. “Don’t mind him, Sunshine.” Alastor placed a bowl of soup in front of her.

(Name) watched them talk as she ate, Alastor remained by her side which gave her all the reassurance she needed. Their chatter was lively as (Name) couldn’t help feeling out of place. They seemed all so close and she didn’t even know where she stood with Alastor. 

There was the matter with the deal and the nameless voice in her head. (Name) glanced down at her bowl and noticed something off about her shadow. It seemed to be grinning as it morphed into something else. 

(Name) had to get to work, somehow. She was going to be screwed. 

I have changed Alastor's nickname for the reader to "Sunshine" since my friend said it was historically accurate for their time period.

My friend has also been helping me build around the MC's past life when she was alive, so you may see a prequel. You will have some hints here and there about it. But, yeah.

[lamialamia]

We have a problem: cheating, humanizing your characters, and delivering your message

This meta is going to talk about Crosby's cheating in episode 7 and 8 of MOTA and how the show's lack of acknowledgement for it ultimately weakened its message on the effect of war.

So. I have talked about how Sandra's abrupt change of heart regarding her principles in her relationship with Crosby disrespects her character in this post. Now, I'm going to talk about the cheating plot point again from another angle: MOTA wants us to see how war is capable of changing people for the worse, but it will not engage with this message any further than the surface level.

When Crosby decided to cheat on his wife with Sandra, it happened within episode 7 and ended in episode 8. You can see him looking at other women in episode 6 and then spend a day hanging out with Sandra and is impressed with her as well as sending her longing look, he also shares a moment of vulnerability with her by talking about Bubbles. This is a legit basis (I'm only going to talk about Crosby in this analysis) for him to cheat with Sandra.

However, after the affair ended, the show never mentions it again. Crosby never says a single thing about it, his friends and colleagues never says a single thing about it, the story never says a single thing about it. Does Crosby feel good or bad about his action? Does he has remorse? Does he feel he is justified for an extra-marital affair? Does he think he's more of a man now that he has done it? Does he regret not courting Sandra further and making her his wife?

Not a thing.

(and that's it 🙃)

The problem with this is not about the cheating itself, but about how the narrative ignores Crosby's humanity. As war changed him, we see in the conversation he had with Rosie in ep 9 that he has doubt and struggles with his role in such large-scale destruction. The show is showing me how a man like him is capable of violence and contributes to human suffering in a big grand level. However, when it decides to never mention any kind of impact on Crosby, his friends, or the overall narrative that stemmed from his cheating -- a small-scale everyday cruelty -- the show weakens his character. Not because he cheated on his wife, but because it tries to say we should ignore his small cruelty in favor of his big one. Effectively, MOTA tells me its characters are above judgement for small cruel thing. That is inherently dehumanizing.

Let's make a comparison. Meet Brad Colbert in Generation Kill.

He's a Marine who is on his way to invade Iraq and pretty much a weapon of war. Other than that, he enjoys riding his bike, surfing, hates country music, and he was cheated on by his ex-fiancee and his best friend.

Here we can easily see that Colbert is pained by this experience. It affects him so much he stopped dating altogether and only have sex with sex workers.

Despite his prowess to kill a lot of people, despite the fact that he is part of the military complex of the USA that is committing atrocities, this man is still vulnerable human being. He is still a man who can get hurt from the betrayal of those he trusted. And by showing this vulnerable side of Brad Colbert, GK effectively made its case: the banality of evil - The person who enact evil is as human as you and me. And Evil can be enact by any average human.

This is because anyone and everyone can commit both the everyday-cruelty AND the grand-scale atrocity.

But unlike GK who reflect on this duality, MOTA only spent screentime to reflect on the grand-scale atrocity. It spent time to share Crosby's regret and guilt in being part of the war effort that kill many people, civilians and military personnel alike. It spent time to have John Egan faced down en entire street of angry civilians to make that point.

However, if you do not acknowledge that your character can commit the every-day cruelty, and show how only his grand-scale atrocity matters, then your character only have half his humanity to lose. You dehumanize him. And now, your message of how war affect the humanity in an average citizen is only half as effective.