#may just rework it some other time

[doritofalls]

kiyo sticks around au + notes on sister

[syrupyyyart]

you had a grape oc right? that design was my fav <3

Yes! Here's the final designs for the antagonists :]

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I do need to sit down today and draft a new budget even though it scares me. I need to be realistic about it too. I really don't enjoy budgeting. Neither me nor wifey are especially gifted with it, and it makes us both anxious and avoidant, so it's really unfortunate.

Definitely one of the tasks for the personal assistant chart once I can afford one.

[ssoupcup]

im cranking out the ocs. we have a bitch of a time traveller government official and her normie boyfriend, a victorian inventor who uses human body parts on occasion when she 'happens across them', and a vampire in the edwardian era who is pan and a shape-shifter so flirts with people to get them alone to consume them, and met their current partner because they're aroace and the flirting didn't work lmao

i may revive some of my old ocs, i have a fair few

[b4ll4d33r-06]

NO MARIELLA OR TSP ART BUT I HAVE MY SILLY LITTLE GAY PPL OCS

hugo (firsf panel) is a loser in love w her gf btw. absolute failure.

tfw ur wife is insane over u showing a lil emotion while u two hav a sparring match.

this is so funny theyre the most functional and sane (both as individuals and as a relationship) but hugo jus likes being dramatic. also hes the average philosophy major. wackass fuckin hag.

cw under the cut, slight undefined nvdity. nothing much jus tibbies nd like some top surgery scars.

shes so tired of her :333

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...

Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.

You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.

Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.

However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.

You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.

She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.

But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.

You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.

Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.

Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.

"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.

Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.

"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."

"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"

"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."

He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"

"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."

"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."

Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.

It's definitely working on you, to say the least.

The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.

"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.

"Good luck," Ewan replies.

You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.

"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"

The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.

"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.

You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."

"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."

"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"

"I'll be sure to tell him - "

Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."

"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.

"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?

"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.

"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."

"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."

"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."

"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"

One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.

In the best damn way possible.

"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.

"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.

"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."

He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."

"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."

"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."

"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."

The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."

Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?

You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.

Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.

Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.

If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.

And with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.

"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."

No, you didn't, not when it's him.

"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.

"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.

"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.

"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"

"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"

"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."

He smirks, "I don't see why not?"

"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."

"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."

"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."

"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?

"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."

"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."

Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...

"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.

"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.

Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.

"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.

He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."

That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."

"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "

"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"

"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.

"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.

"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."

"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."

He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."

"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.

Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.

But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.

Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, darling."

"Ewan?"

"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "

"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.

"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."

"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."

"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.

He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.

"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.

He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.

Maybe.

"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"

A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.

"Let's hear it."

"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "

"Not a chance."

" - and swear your love for Aemond."

"Keep dreaming."

He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"

💌 part two - part three

The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤

Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~

[thatdruidgal]

How to organize your grimoire [upg]

Putting Together Your Grimoire/Book of Shadows

Over my time putting together my grimoire, I’ve seen a lot of different people put together their lists of “everything you need in your grimoire”. While I don’t believe that everyone needs to write a world-renowned magical encyclopedia (see the linked post below by @queer-tech-seer), I do want everyone to have a good idea of where to put the information that they do put in their grimoire.

See this post for how I organize my grimoire

Firstly, you need an introduction section. This goes at the beginning of the book and can include things like:

your devotion to the craft

a short daily mantra

a quick list of your most-accessed info

name the kinds of crafts you practice and focus on

your code of conduct/ethics

a protection spell

your zodiac signs, life number, and tarot card

Second, you need info about your craft. This can be anything like:

lunar magick

nature/green magick

hearth magick

urban magick

crystal magick

You may also want to include activities/interests for each type of magick.

If you’re interested in crystal magick, you should check out my Witchy Boxes! @moonstone-magick

Third, you need your recipes.

spell jars

food and drinks

incense + burn sticks

sachets

even crystal grid patterns, anything with steps!

This post has a few of my favorite recipes

Fourth, you need rituals.

blessings

cleansings

prayers

energy work

sigil spells

Fifth, put any information about the kinds of divination you practice, if any.

tarot

omens

numerology

tasseomancy

cartomancy

psychic abilities

I usually write hedge-riding/astral travel also in this section.

Sixth, write your beliefs.

What specific beliefs you subscribe to

What deities you honor/work with (if any)

Your worldviews

Your thoughts about the creation or the afterlife

And that’s basically it!

Farewell and good tides! 💜

Branwen

Like what you see? Consider supporting me! ko-fi.com/thatdruidgal

[schlattslambo]

Not sure if you’re doing only smut, or a mix of fluff and smut, but maybe a fic where schlatt and reader have soft and sweet sex? Like maybe the reader is stressed about everything happening in their life and schlatt offers some comfort, which leads into soft sex. K thanks 🙏

a/n: ok i may have gone a bit overboard with this one oopsie, but i really hope you like it!!

—————————-

The house is quiet. For the most part. Your boyfriend isn’t yelling at his computer - mainly because he’s out of the house running some errands, the TV is off, and the cats aren’t chasing each other around the house and breaking things. The only sounds are a record player playing classical music in the sitting room and your breathing. It’s a beautiful fall afternoon, and you had just finished baking some cookies. It should be a relaxing day, but it isn’t. Despite the semi-quiet house, you can’t stop your racing thoughts.

You have so much that you could be doing, but you aren’t even sure where to start. You have projects that you need to finish, a few work emails to send, and you’re in charge of planning a trip abroad with some friends. All of this plus juggling your secret relationship. Schlatt is a very caring person, despite the persona that he displays online. He notices every slight change in your mood and can pick up on things that you don’t even pick up on yourself. And you don’t really care that your relationship is secret; it’s for the best.

But that does little to stop those thoughts. Things that you can be doing better, things that aren’t finished but need to be reworked. All of these things that need your attention. So, you decide to grab your laptop from upstairs and do some work in the sitting room. You curl up on the chair with a mug of your favorite tea and get to work. Your fingers are like a blur as you type on the keyboard, so engrossed in your work that you don’t even hear the door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Schlatt calls, just as he always does when he comes home to you.

When you don’t answer right away, he figures that you’re in the bathroom or something. He calls your name, but still no answer. Okay, he thinks, no big deal, you probably have your headphones in. Then he spots the freshly baked cookies that are cooling on the counter. Shoving one in his mouth, he continues his search for you.

When he finds you, you’re hunched over your computer, eyes darting across the screen. Your work emails have been sent and the projects are at a point where they can be put on hold for the evening. Now, you’re stressing about hotel deals in the Netherlands. You’d already sent along a quote to your friends for the hotel in Dublin, so you just had to find three other hotels after the one in the Netherlands. You scribble down some information before a large hand is on your shoulder. You jump, but relax when you notice Schlatt standing there.

“What’re you doing, toots?” He asks, chewing on another cookie. “Great cookies by the way.”

“I’m trying to figure out what hotel to stay at when me and the girls go to Europe.” You grumble, tapping away at the keyboard. “I still have to find three more hotels after I get a quote from this one.”

Schlatt looks down at you with a smile. You’re always working so hard, and he loves that about you. One of his favorite things is your work ethic. You always manage to continue working no matter what happens. It also happens to be one of your biggest faults.

“Baby, you really need to listen to your own advice.” Schlatt says, running a hand through your hair. “What do you always say to me?”

“That you’re an idiot?” You ask, looking up with a smile.

Schlatt acts offended, placing a hand over his heart. “No,” He gasps. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make! You always tell me to pace myself when I work. And it doesn’t look like you’re doing much of that.”

“I don’t have time to pace myself.” You counter. “We leave in six months. I have to get these hotels booked or else we’re going to spend a fortune.”

You turn back to your computer and Schlatt sighs softly. Looks like he’s going to have to do this the hard way.

“C’mon, (y/n),” He says, putting his hands on his hips. “Save your progress.”

He rarely uses your first name, but when he does, you know he’s serious about something. You quickly bookmark the page and close the laptop, peering up at him. Without a word, he scoops you up princess style.

“Hey!” You yelp. “Where are you taking me?”

Schlatt says nothing but walks you to his room. He softly kicks the door closed behind him and plops you on the bed. You look at him and cross your arms on your chest.

“Jay, I really-” Your cut off by his soft lips pressing against yours.

“Honeybun,” He says, using one of your favorite nicknames. “Let me help you relax, m’kay?”

His kisses trail down the side of your neck and all of your thoughts melt into a puddle that now pools in your belly and starts to warm. You nod against him but he pulls back.

“Words, baby.” He says sweetly.

“Yes, please.” You whisper.

“Such good manners.” Schlatt replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone while toying with the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off, hm?”

The two of you slip your shirt off together and Schlatt continues kissing you, pressing his lips further down to your chest. He pushes your bra down, then takes a nipple into his mouth. You shudder at the contact, goosebumps blossoming on your skin.

“Lay down, my love.” He whispers against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Without a word, you comply. You slip your bra off yourself as Schlatt kisses down your torso and to your waist.

“May I?” He asks, hooking his thumbs into your belt loops.

At your nod, your pants slowly come down, warm kisses pressed to your hips and thighs. His touch is so gentle and sweet that you think you may cry. When your pants come off, Schlatt looks up at you with a smile.

“God,” He breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the entire world. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Schlatt expresses his gratitude for you ‘choosing to love him’ all the time, but somehow, this feels different. More intimate. His lips press against your inner thigh, making you let out a soft gasp. He slowly slips off your panties, licking his lips. Once they’re off, he gently spreads your legs, his thick fingers exploring your folds.

“My pretty girl’s all wet,” He smiles, sliding a finger inside of you.

You mewl, arching your back. His thumb finds your clit and rubs slowly, and he watches you with a lovesick smile on his face. His cock grows harder at the sounds your making and how your pussy clenches on his finger every time he presses just a bit more on your clit.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Schlatt’s voice comes out strained as you look at him.

You nod and his cock twitches in his pants. No matter how many times he gets to fuck you, his cock always twitches at the idea. You’ve been dating for around a year and a half, and he gets giddy inside whenever he gets to be this close to you.

“How do you want me?” You ask.

“Missionary.” Schlatt says with a smile. “I want to watch your beautiful face.”

You adjust on the bed as Schlatt finds a condom, resting your head on the many pillows that litter his bed. Just like Jambo has his little feather collection under the couch, Schlatt has a pillow collection on his bed.

He climbs up, smiling at you with such love that your heart does a little flutter. Kisses are pressed up against your ankle, all the way up to your face. Schlatt presses his cock against your entrance, pausing to intertwine your fingers together as his forehead rests against yours.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, slowly entering you. “My beautiful, beautiful baby.”

“I love you too.” You gasp.

His movements are vastly different from when you two usually have sex. He’s usually sporadic and quick with sloppy thrusts and a grip that bruises. This time, he’s holding you so gently that he’s scared he might break you. His thrusts are slow, but have just enough force to them to make your eyes roll back. As Schlatt’s lips attach to your neck again, you let out a moan.

“That’s it,” He praises against you. “Let it out for me. You’re taking me so well, babydoll.”

Schlatt pulls back to look at you, and your eyes meet his. The way you look up at him makes him nearly burst. He continues to go slow, but his orgasm is approaching rapidly. He never cums first, so he needs to stop.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He breathes with a smile. “You’re gonna make me finish too quick. This is about you tonight.”

You smile and sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Schlatt lets go of your hands and reaches down to rub your clit. This allows you to pull him closer and kiss him. The kiss is passionate, slow and intimate. It’s intensified by the shocks of pleasure coming from your clit. Schlatt adds more pressure, making you break the kiss.

“F-Fuck,” You whimper. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Schlatt asks with a smile. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod and moan, looking up at him with those pretty eyes. He rubs your clit in circles and uses the other hand to gently caress your chest. The small action sends you over the edge. You grip Schlatt by the back of the neck and pull him down, your moans muffled by another kiss. He thrusts as you cum, chasing his own orgasm. Only a few thrusts later, he’s cumming as well, groaning into your mouth.

As Schlatt comes down from his high, you look at him with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. He quickly disposes of the condom and cleans himself up, coming back to bed and scooping you into his arms.

“You’ve been working so hard lately.” He says as he runs a hand through your hair. “I’m so, so proud of you. You make me and the boys so happy. I love you so much.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Thank you,” You whisper. “I really needed this.

Schlatt presses a kiss to your forehead and snuggles you until the two of you drift off to sleep. You don’t mean to take a nap in the middle of the day, but you also didn’t expect to make love at 3pm either. But as you drift off to sleep in Schlatt’s arms, those racing thoughts are gone. The only thoughts that remain are how lucky you feel to have someone so thoughtful in your life.

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…

(or, in other words, promises of their dedication to you.)

✦ featuring: childe, kaeya, xiao, zhongli, kazuha.

✦ warnings: none, just the smallest smidgens of angst in some places.

✦ notes: so, this is a really old work i posted on my first blog that i'm proud of sjhhjs i found it a while ago and decided to rework it a little!! (i haven't changed too much of the original though, just tweaked some sentences and added and subtracted.)

…i’d pull hell and heaven to their knees at your feet, and i’d kneel alongside them (if I could. oh, if only i could).

childe wants to give you the world and more.

he’s almost reverent in his devotion to those he loves, seeking to please beyond all else, and what he holds toward you is no different. at merely a blink of your eyes, he’d bring you the sun and the stars, weave moonlight into fabric and find a chunk of the most beautiful emerald you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he does it all with a wink and a smile and a ‘you need only ask, dear,’

and it is true, you need only ask for him to lay out the world for you.

but alas, there is only so much fate will allow him to do. his heart and soul may rest in your palms, but he is duty bound to the tsaritsa.

ajax can promise you everything in the world, just not himself.

he cannot promise you himself in his entirety, he cannot promise you an ajax without his secrets, without an always existing barrier in between you.

no matter how desperately he wants to.

…i’d stand bare in your light, arms asunder, abandoning my secrets and shedding the shadows i once called home.

kaeya alberich fears trust.

he’s scared of what it could lead to, what it could do to him, what it has done to him. he’s a man who lives under a cloak of secrets and inside a cocoon of fear and mysteries, and for him to allow himself to expose everything he hides is no small feat.

but it is the surest mark of his trust in you, that some hopeful part of him believes that you’ll stay against all odds.

he thinks you shouldn’t, though, that it’ll cause you more harm than good— he won’t let himself want you. but you’ll know he is truly yours when he hesitates no longer to tell you the deepest desires of his heart, to bare his whole soul and lay it before your eyes.

patience, and you'll find him the most beautiful butterfly of them all.

…i’d cross the deepest of chasms, weather the harshest of storms, and brave the most treacherous of paths to return to your arms.

not a soul can say that adeptus alatus has no home to go back to. (and if they did, how utterly wrong they’d be.)

his home is the warmth of your embrace, the love in every gentle caress, and the soft cadence of your voice. it's the smile in your eyes, and the spring in your step, and the softness of your heart. he’d call it almost dream-like, but xiao knows what dreams are like, far better than anyone. he also knows that every dream— no matter how intense, no matter how vivid— always disappears.

but you’re still here, day after day,

does that not mean you’re as real as the air he breathes and the sun that sets over liyue?

xiao’s loyalty is hard won, but it is steadfast. he cannot promise that he’ll live forever, nor can he promise you happiness every single minute of the day. but what he can promise you, is that at the end of the day, he’ll fight his hardest to return to you, no matter how far away he might be.

…i’d etch your memory— from the most mellifluous laugh to every tiny victory— onto my very soul, so that not even the flow of time can wash it away.

morax has prospered for centuries.

he’s witnessed dynasties fall to dust; paupers rise to prominence. he’s come across many he was fond of and cherishes the memory of everyone he has ever cared for. 

he’s also aware that forgetting some people in the vast expanse time is inevitable. the withering of the blooms of thought spare none, not even a god, and the tree of the psyche grows ancient. after all, even the mind is not permanent in a world of transience, is it?

but zhongli would be damned if he ever let you fade.

his promise, no, his contract— one he made to himself the day the realization that you'd one day no longer be by his side fully set in— is to preserve even the last wisps that linger, encasing the thought of you in shimmering gold, so that after you are long gone, you’ll live on as part of his soul.

…i’d whisper the softest of tales into the night breeze, tales of you and i, so that even when we’re long gone, the wind will carry our stories for aeons to come.

kazuha is no stranger to the whispers of the wind.

he’s intimately familiar with them, a rare blessing he knows he is lucky to have. but his most divine blessing is the privilege of being part of a story with you. life is short, unpredictable; one never knows what their fate might be, but he's beyond glad that this part of his destiny has you.

he has no desire to be a legend, and he knows you don’t either. but he is sentimental in the regard that he wants the whispers of the two of you to stick around. he’s lost so much, and reciting stories of the two of you is his way of preservation, for nothing spoken into the wind vanishes.

the world knows only a fraction of this wanderer, but he hopes that if they remember anything about him, they remember how much he loved you.

[dhl-au]

So, as you may have noticed, I have been working on a lot of redesigns for the au right now. Because the old ones were not relevant this year, my art style has improved.

There are three redesigns for the pre-horror trio of administrators. (One of them will be hidden for some reason, it's not time for that person to appear in the story.)

As you can see, only two have changed a lot. However, in my opinion, they look much better.

The main reason why I changed them was that I was not very happy with how they looked. Basically, I felt a bit weird when I looked at them and just said "I don't know... Feels a bit unfinished." As you may notice, a lot of changes are happening to Abel. He has a more human look and is closer to his horror appearance. Unfortunately, even the third person has undergone many changes. Basically, the body. Most of the work was done to make it look more human and non-human.

I also changed the poses and angles of their poses slightly. Just to feel less uncomfortable about them in my head.

On old ones, you can see color disbalance, weird design decisions, and many other things compared to new ones. Simply, I was not happy with Mushy's idea of Abel fitting into this AU. There is not much to say here, just my own destructive thoughts that I might copy designs and ideas. Now, a bit about Caine. His palette was reworked and simple outfit designs were created, trying to balance all the colors so that they didn't feel unbalanced. I also added special items for them so that they could move around locations much faster than regular players.

And oh well, dear God, there's a lot of text. I never have written so much. Ahaha, sorry about that. I guess it's just my thoughts on these design things and etc.

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

➳ Warnings; Mentions of injuries, Cursing, Kissing, Marijuana Use, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Squirting, Fem Reader

➳ Or: You just want to spend one more easy night with Dabi before the entirety of Japan goes to hell.

Note; this is a completely re-edited, revised, reworked version of my previous Dabi/Reader — I deleted the previous one.

♡ Touya / Fem Reader

It’s almost funny, you think, as you lean against the wall of the Leagues newest hideout. The reason you were convinced to join the A team in the first place—to go a long with Shigaraki’s convoluted plans.

It wasn’t Stain. Hell, it wasn’t even Shigaraki himself. It sure as fuck wasn’t All for One.

No, it was the scarred, absolutely deranged, blue eyed psycho that has daddy issues. The man who creates flames that burn over 2500 degrees celsius at their hottest, higher than Endeavors. The bastard.

To be fair, you didn’t know he had daddy issues when you saw him on TV for the first time. Yet, you saw the emotion in his eyes. Rage.

It flared, crackling brightly—hotter than the flames he produces himself.

It forced something to melt and seep into your bones, making your skin feel too tight, itchy, in an all too familiar way. You recognized another emotion on his face, one you were well acquainted with. Revenge.

You stopped at nothing to seek him out after that. Inevitably, you found him.

Now here you are, watching Dabi make, what equates to, a self-introduction video.

You’ve heard the story from him multiple times, you’ve seen him make the video over and over again. He’s shared his past and you’ve shared yours. You know people say Dabi may not feel much, hell even he says that. They say he’s heartless, cold, insane.

And—he is, but he’s also much more than that to you.

He’s kind to you, in his own twisted way, but he loves you, as much as he’s able to.

Which compared to “normal people” is actually quite a lot. Some would place him on the level of obsessed, unhealthy.

Although, who are you to judge? You act the exact same way towards him. Both of you would incinerate the world for each other, literally.

You also know he wants this video to be his own version of Dantes Inferno, about his journey navigating through hell since he was a kid.

You’ve had many conversations with Dabi about how much of a toll this takes on him. As if he’s weighted down by concrete tied to his ankles. Usually he gets so worked up that smoke ends up seeping through the seams of his staples by the end of it.

Nevertheless, he’s releasing the video tomorrow—whether it’s time for Shiagaraki to wake the hell up or not. No matter what, it’s going to rock the hero society. It’ll crumble the facade they have worked so hard to maintain. You’re lucky enough to know who he really is, the rest of the league, and the world, doesn’t. Yet.

You’re here for support, to make sure he actually gets the video fucking done, before you’re heading off for the day. Doing some sort of asinine errand for the Doc to help keep Shigaraki’s ass alive while he soaks in that vat.

You already decided that later tonight, you’re going make sure Dabi remembers he’s got you to come home too. No matter what happens after the world sees behind the veil.

After some time, you’re still leaning against the wall on the side of the room. Letting little flames ignite from your fingertips, just playing around, having one flame dance from finger to finger.

It’s another thing that had attracted you to Dabi. Even though flame quirks are a dime a dozen, and his flames burn hotter, it made you feel like you were similar, in a way.

Noticing that he’s stopped talking you look up, putting out the flame with a wave of your hand. You watch him walk to the camera to turn it off.

He was shirtless for the video. It shows off how lean he is, but it also shows all the burn scars that cross his chest and torso, up his neck and under his eyes. His hair is white right now and the staples holding him together shine under the light from overhead.

For a beat you remember how cool they feel pressing against your skin when Dabi pins you face down on the bed.

Your body flushes, warmth churning in your belly.

Being in love with a man like Dabi means he takes up most of the space in your brain, running wildly through your thoughts constantly.

To add on it’s not just Dabi you love, it’s Touya too.

You’re desperately aware of the fact that you’re not doing a very decent job of hiding the way your eyes trail his body when he speaks up. His smooth, smoky voice rumbling from his chest.

“You know, it’s rude to stare baby,” Dabi murmurs, inclining his head slightly to look at you. His gaze is sharp but his lips are pulled into a lazy catlike grin.

Embarrassment shoots through you, burrowing into your cheeks. A swarm of butterflies ravages you.

Using your hands, you set them behind you and you push off the wall, trying to form a response. Nobody else but Dabi makes you act like you’ve swallowed your tongue whole.

“Maybe I just like what I see,” you tease, trying to ignore the obvious flush of your chest and neck. Dabi turns to face you as you walk up to him.

You can’t get over the way he looms over you, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. The grin never leaves his face. He tugs playfully at a lock of hair that had fallen from your bun, making it seem as if you’ve swallowed cotton balls.

“Oh? You’re one to talk. I could fuck you where you stand and you’d let me,” he flirts, looking oh so casual the whole time.

Dabi twirls the same strand of hair around his finger tightly, before letting it go.

The man radiates fucking heat and it’s a bit like standing too close to a bonfire. It toes the line of too hot, as if your skin would start to melt if you got too close.

Your eyes flutter shut from the familiar warmth, and you taking a deep, steadying breath — willing away the lust that threatens to turn your insides to ash.

You desperately try to remember that now is not the time to let Dabi fuck you silly.

You reluctantly take a step back, only now realizing how close the two of you had gotten. Later, you remind yourself, trying to cool down.

Dabi pushes out his lower lip, pretending to pout.

“Dabi, c’mon, you know I’ve got to go soon. I just wanted to make sure you got this finished today,” you say with hesitation.

Dabi rolls his eyes, no doubt irritated they have you doing bullshit errands. You get it, you feel the same, but you know it’s just less of a hassle to get it done.

It’s not like you don’t want Shigaraki to wake up soon. The crazy, itchy fucker has grown on you.

Besides, you want to get the plan moving and all. Dabi knows this, yet it still pisses him off. He waves a hand dismissively, before turning back to the camera.

“Whatever, go on then,” he bites coldly. Your lips press into a line, the sting of hurt pulsing in your chest briefly.

You shove your hands in your pockets and turn to leave without saying much else. You’re not willing to get into it with him right now, the video has clearly already got him riled up.

Before you can take a step, a blistering palm grabs your forearm, turning you back around. You raise an eyebrow as you meet his intense gaze.

“Yes?” you bite back. Dabi stares down at you, hand trailing down to grip your wrist, wrapping his fingers around as a bracelet. His expression stays sharp, blue eyes piercing.

“Just come back to me tonight, okay?” Dabi demands, an underlying note of concern lacing his tone.

You can’t hold back the smile that pulls at your lips, previous hurt washed away by your adoration for the deranged man in front of you. You nod.

“I will Touya,” you whisper softly.

You tend not to use his real name often, only when you need him to know you’re serious.

It makes his eye twitch, his stomach more often than not twisting in fury when he hears it.

Not with you though. The way his name falls from your lips—he’d be remiss if he didn’t admit it soothes the open wound it’s left behind.

Without another word, Dabi bends down, brushing a kiss over your cheek, letting your wrist go. Your skin tingles where his lips were, the rough texture of his lower one always tickles. You smile softly.

Swiftly you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth in return.

“Love you too, dickhead!” You call out playfully, letting the door swing shut behind you. Dabi scoffs watching you go, but he wears, a small, loving smile at your jab.

He already wishes for the night. As long as can be with you again.

You’re covered in soot and ashes. Smelling like a fucking bonfire gone wrong. The flesh of your hands is singed, stinging, and you curse internally when you curl them into fists.

Generally, it happens when you overuse your quirk. The skin sizzles, steam rising from the reddened flesh. You shake your hands out as you walk, thanking God that it looks worse than it is. It’ll heal relatively quickly.

You’ve managed to procure only a couple bruises though, so you count yourself even luckier. You know Dabi will be fucking pissed either way.

You always have to talk him down from eviscerating the Doc when you wind up coming home banged up from one of his errands.

To top it off, it’s way later than when you normally return from these idiotic missions. It’s well past midnight and you’re sure Dabi is close to committing arson.

The job was a waste of your time. Granted, you admit you may have been a little distracted. You couldn’t stop thinking about the night that lay ahead of you and Dabi.

It’s hard to burn down that many buildings, discreetly, when you’re not focused 100%. You almost got caught at the last building.

Hence the new dark purple splotches covering your left bicep. They throb slightly when you accidentally brush your fingers over them. It’s a miracle you made it out, but you’re not telling Dabi that.

Walking into the front door of the, more or less mansion that is the hideout, you notice it’s quiet in the living room.

None of the usuals that hang out are down here. You look around quickly, thinking maybe you’d catch a glance of Dabi. You scowl when you don’t see his spiky white hair anywhere. You swiped something on the way home, an item that will help the two of you relax. It sits heavy in your back pocket.

You desperately want the two of you to enjoy the night before the world explodes into chaos tomorrow.

You slip your hand into your pocket, just to make sure it’s still there. Your finger tips trace the pre-rolled joints you snagged. You smile coyly to yourself, feeling your heart beat harshly against your rib cage.

A pleasant shiver rolls down your spine as you recall the last time you and Dabi had sex higher than a kite.

Smoking weed isn’t necessarily something you and Dabi do often, but when you get the chance you certainly take advantage of it.

How could you say no? Your body feels relaxed and warm, like your joints are made of butter. The pleasure is always dialed to a 10.

You know Dabi fucking loves it, the one chance he gets to truly relax. You make your way to the stairs as you chew on your bottom lip, mulling over your thoughts.

You’re hoping that once Dabi sees you’re okay, and that you have joints, he won’t be too tempted to set the mansion on fire.

You walk swiftly to your room. You pass by Mr. Compress on the way, the two of you wave in greeting. The sound of your combat boots echo on the wooden floor as you round the corner, stopping at your door.

The door is closed but that’s not unusual. Eagerly, you turn the handle and push open the door. It’s pitch black inside. That…is odd actually. Your grin quickly fades as you step inside, curious, you flip on the low light to the room.

Dabi’s not here. You feel an unwarranted flash of irritation at the realization.

As cliche as it sounds, recently you’ve been finding him playing some sort of game on his desk top computer. You’re not sure he’s ever played one before now and he seems to thoroughly enjoy it. Your chest warms as you think about him getting to experience some sort of normalcy.

However, he’s not at the desk. He’s not anywhere in your room. You shut the door behind you and walk in further. Shoving the feeling of annoyance down your throat, you remind yourself that the villain has got to be somewhere around the hideout.

Hoping he’ll pop up soon you decide it’s best to take a shower. To wash off the layer of disgusting ash you’re covered in.

Setting the joints on your dresser, you strip your nasty clothes off and throw them to the side. You grab one of Dabi’s shirts, one with a skull on it and nothing else before making your way into the en-suite bathroom.

As you stand under the spray of the scalding water, it feels unbelievable. The water acting as a much needed massage for your sore muscles.

You scrub yourself clean, hissing as the soap causes a burning sensation in your hands. You examine the newly pink, sensitive skin of your palms and flex your sore fingers.

The curtain suddenly rips open halfway and you scream loudly, arms flailing wildly. Your head whips to the side, heart in your throat as you see a smug looking Dabi. You place a hand on your chest, pulse thundering.

“You fucking jack ass! You scared the shit out of me! Where the hell have you been?” you shout, angrily flinging water at his face.

Dabi laughs as he brings his hand up in surrender, covering his face from your retaliation. You let out a frustrated noise, quickly turning the water off to face him. You push roughly at his chest, wetting his shirt and he grips the shower curtain with one hand for balance. He’s still fucking laughing.

“I got restless waiting for you. I was with Spinner, who wouldn’t stop yapping about some new video game. I saw Compress and he told me he saw you on your way up. I wanted to fuck with you.” He grins wolfishly, pretending to wipe a fake tear of amusement from his eye. The staples near the corner of his mouth tug at his skin.

You scowl, glaring at him playfully.

“You’re the biggest dick I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting, ya know that?” you chastise him, unable to stop yourself from grinning widely at his relaxed demeanor.

Truthfully, you know nobody else sees this playful side of Dabi. The fact that you’re privy to it, it’s like knowing the world’s greatest secret. You want to put it in a box and keep it safe forever.

“Is that right? And yet, you’re the one who continues to stay with me, princess. I’ve just got you that cock drunk for me, don’t I sweetheart?” You blush violently at his teasing, but there’s absolutely no denying it.

Dabi smirks, taking the chance to let his gaze lazily trail up and down your wet, naked body. Slowly appreciating your form, and biting the tip of his tongue.

You wiggle your eyebrows playfully, popping your hip out, placing your hand there. It pulls an amused laugh from him and he winks at you. The sound of it sets your nerves alight.

Suddenly, you feel Dabi go stock still. The air raises a few degrees as his expression distorts into something feral, his happy mood vanishing.

Your stomach knots up and you shift your weight from foot to foot. You know he’s found the new, rather large, bruises peppering your left bicep. Delicately, he trails his fingers over them with his free hand. You wince.

The sickening scent of burning plastic starts to flood your nose. You glance over, panicking slightly when you see Dabi’s melting the shower curtain in a death grip.

“Touya!” You gasp. “I’m okay, really, I’m fine. Please, look at me baby,” you soothe, gripping his wrist to try and yank him free, but he doesn’t loosen his hold. You place your free hand on his cheek, forcing his manic gaze to meet yours. “It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention,” you continue in a gentle voice, running your thumb over the scarred flesh under his left eye.

His snowy white eyebrows pinch together, and he lets out a pained sound, hesitantly letting go of the curtain. You swiftly take the opportunity to lace your fingers with his.

You take a peak at the curtain again, noticing a hand print has been permanently melted into it. Touya tugs on your hand harshly, asking for your attention.

He stares intensely at your face, pupils tracking back and forth rapidly, looking wild. When he speaks, it’s as if he’d swallowed a handful of gravel.

“Those goddamn idiots!” He snarls. “Sending you out, letting you get fucked up. If I fucking see that Doc again before Shigaraki wakes up, I’m incinerating him,” he manages to get out through clenched teeth. He’s furious, tone low and menacing.

It definitely does not turn you on.

Touya tangles his fingers through the wet hair at the nape of your neck, squeezing painfully. Your breath catches, scalp tingling.

A torrent of warmth rushes through you, pussy clenching eagerly around air.

It never fails to turn your brain to mush when he’s like this. Protective, possessive. It makes syrupy heat drip down your spine.

You shiver, not just from the chill of being naked, when you realize you’re still dripping wet. Unfortunately, you need a towel.

“I know Touya,” You laugh shakily , wanting to redirect his anger. “ I won’t stop you, promise. Let’s not allow those dumbasses to ruin our night, okay?” You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I brought a surprise for us to share! So can you be a good boyfriend and please hand me a towel?” You plead, looking at him through your lashes.

Touya doesn’t move for a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly as considers your words, before his expression mellows out. He sighs heavily.

Touya releases his grip on your hair, trailing his rough fingers over your jaw and patting your cheek twice softly. He frees your other hand and turns to grab a towel from the cabinet.

You lift up your arms, very relieved, and wiggle your fingers happily as you wait. Touya sweetly wraps the cloth around your back and crosses it over your chest, tucking it into itself so it stays in place. You beam at him, letting your arms fall to hold it in place.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me not to commit murder tonight. Show me the surprise,” Touya concedes, catlike grin settling into his expression once again. You breathe another sigh of relief, stepping out of the shower. You balance with a hand on his arm.

“I got us joints! I figured some good weed would help us relax and,” you trail your finger over his jaw, biting your lip coyly. You lean in, whispering sensually to him. “I was hoping we could have some fun later, if you know what I mean.”

Standing up straight, you smile smugly, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself, watching his reaction. His head tilts back in delighted laughter.

“That’s the best idea you could’ve had. Let’s go get high out of our minds baby, and then I’ll fuck you into the mattress,” he purrs, grabbing the shirt you left to change into and tugging you along out of the bathroom.

You watch his lean frame from behind, admiring him as he walks. Your man is stupid hot, and you don’t just mean literally.

Once you’re near the bed the two of you release each other. He hands you your shirt and you let your towel unwind, tossing it to the side.

Touya’s hand comes out of nowhere to roughly smack your bare ass. The pain flares, making you yelp.

“Touya!” You scold. “Fuck off for a second will you?” you joke. “Let me at least put my shirt on.” You slip the clothing over your head as you speak, gathering your wet hair into a braid.

Touya snorts. You look at him with a raised brow as he’s taking his own clothes off. Your eyes linger for a moment on the V shape that disappears into his underwear. He winks at you in return when he catches your stare, but you just roll your eyes.

“Why are you even putting clothes on? You know I’m just going to get you naked later,” Touya complains as he crawls onto your shared bed. He leans his back against the headboard. Touya looks at you expectantly, patting the spot next to him as he shoves his long, pale legs under the blanket.

“Yes I know, but I still get cold sometimes, plus I like this shirt, it’s soft,” you reply, picking up the joints from your dresser, turning the overhead light off, and shimmying up the bed to him.

You make it a point to sit so your thigh and arm are squished against his as you recline next him. You use a pillow to support your lower back.

“You know I can keep you just as warm baby,” Touya coos, pulling up the soft fuzzy blanket that covers your bed so you can get your own legs underneath. He lets it rest at your waist.

Touya gently warms the space beneath and you swallow a moan. It feels amazing. Turning your head to look at him, you smile lazily. He wiggles his eyebrows as you hold up a joint to him, urging him to light it.

“I know, and later on you’re gonna make me sweat,” you tease, watching as he smirks.

He doesn’t even pay attention as he uses his finger to light the joint. A little blue flame that instantly eats the paper, setting it alight.

You kiss his cheek in thanks, selfishly taking the first drag. Fuck, it tastes like heaven. A twisted version of lemon flavor bursts across your tongue. It’s sweet, but also bitter.

You let the smoke swirl in your lungs while you hold your breath. Letting it out in a long exhale, the smoke ghosts across Touya’s face. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, groaning as he breathes out.

After a joint and a half in, you’re feeling the perfect level of high. You’re leaning your head on Touya’s shoulder, studying your fingertips.

You’re something akin to the warm butter that melts on top of pancakes. Your head feels fuzzy and you know Touya is in the clouds.

”Baby,” Touya softly calls for you, smooth like whiskey. His honeyed voice sends a shiver down your spine. Your head feels heavy when you lift it, looking at him with a dopey grin.

“Hmm?” you try to ask. Managing to giggle in response. He tilts his head down towards you. He’s wearing a matching lazy grin, his eyes half-lidded.

“Let me shot gun that pretty mouth,” he murmurs, taking the last large inhale from the joint. He holds his breath and puts out the joint on his palm, laying the roach on the bedside table.

You nod happily, stomach unbearably warm as you lean towards him. You let your mouth fall open obediently.

Touya looks sly, meeting you halfway. His different textured lips pressing to yours easily, slightly opened as he slowly pushes the smoke out of his lungs and into your mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed as the tendrils of smoke roll into your mouth. It makes you feel a bit feverish and everything feels like it’s rolling in slow motion.

You inhale equally as slow, taking your time, pulling it into your lungs. It makes you feel dizzy. You hold it for a moment, until your chest starts to burn and then you break from the kiss.

Turning your head minutely, you let it all out in one breath. Your tongue slips out to lick your lower lip, the aftertaste from the joint making your mouth water.

You slide your gaze to Touya’s. He brings his hand up, letting his fingers rest on your jaw as he runs a thumb over the lip you just licked. His eyes burn with a low heat, like embers.

“Feeling high princess?” he whispers, leaning a bit closer, lips only a couple centimeters from yours. He’s gentle, holding your jaw, fingers pressing in on both sides now.

Your eyes are lidded and it feels like his rich voice physically melts through your skin, into your veins. You admire how pretty his face is, feeling your pussy throb. You bite your lip and nod, tickling a hand over his collarbone. He shivers.

“So high,” you giggle and whisper your next sentence, as if you’re telling him a secret. “Will you fuck me now Touya?”

Touya’s fingers twitch before they slide down to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. The staples on his wrist scratch at your neck. He’s studying your face, letting his lips pull into a wicked grin as he inches forward, brushing his mouth against yours.

“With pleasure baby girl,” he rumbles, pressing the words into your lips. You moan into his mouth, kissing him slowly over and over.

You’re just starting to lick into his mouth when he puts pressure on your windpipe and you get the message, breaking the kiss with a whine.

He laughs softly as he releases your neck and you shift until you’re lying down flat on the bed, head resting on the pillow.

The change in position makes the room spin and you blink your eyes slowly. You’ve planted your feet on the bed, letting your legs fall open. Moving around makes your shirt rise up to your hips, slick pussy on display for Touya.

You’re vaguely aware of how wet you already are, and it’s too hot in the room, your face heats again and sweat trails down your temple.

The only light in the room is from the TV you had turned on absently. Yet, you can still see Touya’s chest. He has his own light sheen of sweat covering his skin, nipples stiff and perky.

The white haired man maneuvers to get in between your thighs. He sits back on his calves, palms resting on the tops of your knees as he takes a look at your soft pussy.

The sight makes his cock ache, straining to be free from his briefs. He feels his tip positively leaking, sticking to the soft material.

“C‘mere Touya,” you whine softly, reaching your arms out for him. His expression is relaxed, loving as he bends to your will, resting his forearms on either side of your head.

You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss. Your lips slide together eagerly, the heat between you blazing.

His bottom lip is rough but the texture makes you moan every time. He easily slips his tongue inside your mouth, rolling them together, and you bite the delicate muscle briefly.

A husky moan pushes past his lips, causing him to break the kiss.

“Goddammit baby, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he groans, voice wrecked as he sucks dark marks in a line up your neck, gripping the hem of your shirt.

“Please,” you beg, the word sticking to the roof of your mouth. Touya doesn’t hesitate, sitting back momentarily to free you of your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind him.

The air brings a slight chill, making your nipples harden. Goosebumps erupt along your chest and you whine. Touya rests his hands on your soft belly, dick jumping, drooling as he takes in your naked body. His large, warm palms cover most of the skin there, fingers splayed on your ribs.

His eyes are red and glossy as they trail over your tits, noticing your nipples are pretty little pebbles. God, he’s so hard he could cut diamonds.

He quickly shoves his underwear off, the urge to be naked swallowing him whole. His cock bobs free as it catches on the waistband of his briefs. You watch, catching sight of the curly white hair resting just above the base.

He settles again between your legs, gripping his shaft and squeezing briefly for some relief. His own touch feels electric and he moans through his teeth. He knows you’ll feel a thousand times better than his hand.

He’s quick to swipe his thumb between your pussy lips, parting them as he drags it up to your clit, starting to massage slow circles there.

You choke on an inhale, head feeling heavy. Your limbs feel like jello, warmth flowing through you. You hum, reaching out to wrap a hand around the silky smooth skin of his shaft. He lets out a broken moan when you pump his cock, letting his foreskin pull back.

“Touya, c’mon, pretty please? Don’t wanna wait,” you say with breathy sigh. You keep stroking his cock, twisting your wrist upwards and he groans again, sounding breathless.

“You don’t have to ask me twice baby, you know how much I love fucking you,” he purrs, looking exactly like the Cheshire Cat.

He places a hand on each of your inner thighs, spreading you open a little more. You tilt your hips up a little, so you can guide his thick cock inside of you. You tease yourself, sliding his tip over your swollen clit. You let out a low curse as it sends electricity up your spine.

A short whine slips through Touya’s lips as the head of his cock presses in smoothly. Removing your hand, you give him the reigns to do the rest as he stretches your pussy completely. You tilt your head back on the pillow as you start clenching around him.

“Oh,” you say as if you’ve been sucker punched. “Touya, you feel so good!” you cry out, thoughts disjointed. You tremble at the overwhelming pleasure, white knuckling the pillow under you.

You’re sure you could cum just from the stretch of his cock alone, your sensitivity at an all time high. You chance a look at your boyfriend, panting.

His eyebrows are scrunched and he’s gritting his teeth, eyes locked on where he’s disappeared inside you. Warm pussy wrapped around him perfectly.

“Shit,” he curses lowly. “You’re so fucking tight,” he laughs incredulously rocking his hips shallowly.

His own mind is fuzzy, body high so intense he could sob. You lay there and take it beautifully as he starts to fuck you for real, slow and deep.

Your limbs are like lead, and you’ve all but become one with the mattress, the pleasure all you can focus on. The sound of your skin smacking together makes your ears burn. You’re watching the way his fingers grip your thighs, the way the muscles in his lower abdomen flex with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot Touya, God - I can’t,” you all but sob. You can’t focus on anything else but the way his cock drags in and out of your pussy. Touya hums softly and leans forward, bracing his hands on the bed, caging you between. You look up at him through your lashes.

“What do you want baby? Hmm? Tell me,” he pants, voice smoldering. Your entire body flushes even hotter. Quirk raising up just below your skin and you keep your hands from the sheets for fear of turning them to ash.

Letting out a low moan, you grip his forearms, he can take the heat of your quirk. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when your scalding palms make contact with his skin.

You’re able to keep it under control for now. You take note of the way your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. He watches them, eyes almost unfocused, unfazed by the blistering heat of your palms, before his gaze locks with yours when you start to speak.

“Want you to fuck me from behind, please,” you mumble, words blending together as you try to keep your eyes open. The pleasure is making your brain feel thick.

“Fuck yes, turn that pretty ass around,” he agrees, leaning back and pulling his cock free. It bounces slightly and you notice he’s glistening from your slick, notching your arousal up by a few degrees.

You don’t waste a second, rolling over onto your belly. The sensation of moving underwater is what you would compare it to.

You raise up on your knees, showing off the curve of your spine as you rest your cheek on the mattress below. The sheets are soft, caressing your skin as you nuzzle against it, distractedly.

You’re gripping the sheets by your head when you feel Touya’s palm crack harshly against your ass,forcing you to jolt forward.

“Ah!” You whine into the sheets. He must’ve heated his hand, because you can feel your ass almost blistering from where he spanked you.

You assume that’s some sort of revenge from what you did to his forearms earlier. Not that it matters, the pain and pleasure mix together even better.

“Look at you, so obedient. You want me to fuck you like a dog, don’t you?” He teases, words sitting heavy on his tongue.

He grips the base of his cock and rubs the head between your lips, parting them easily.

You open your mouth to answer but you’re cut off. He’s already bullying his way back into you without abandon.

Touya grips your hips tight enough you worry he’s gripping the bone. His cock throbs, your pussy feels tighter this way.

It’s making his head spin, watching himself pull out, cock shiny and slick, before filling you once again. His heart thumps hard in his rib cage, thinking about just how much he fucking loves you.

“Oh god.” You shove your face into the mattress as Touya starts to move hard and fast. His cock filling you out perfectly with each thrust.

The friction is blistering, pleasure burning through your limbs. He presses his hands into your lower back, pushing the arch in your spine to its breaking point and he uses his weight to fuck you.

His cock bullies your sweet spot again and again, ripping muffled screams from your throat and into the mattress.

You’re starting to squirm under him, overly sensitive while he pushes you closer to your peak. You unconsciously try to crawl away from him, but he notices. You’ve started to fist the sheets again, for any kind of leverage.

“That’s the spot, isn’t baby? You’re so cute, trying to crawl away from me. You’re not fucking going anywhere. Be good, baby girl,” he demands, huffing lightly. He leans forward to brace one hand on the back of your neck, pinning you down.

He lets his other hand rest on the middle of your lower back, pressing down there too. How you’re able to keep your knees under you is beyond you. The first heavy thrust after that has you wailing, eyes stinging with tears.

“Fuck! Touya, right there, don’t stop,” you beg, feeling small underneath him. The pleasure is overwhelming. It’s not long at all before a knot starts to wind up taught in your lower abdomen, and you struggle to try and warn him.

“Go ahead princess, I’ve got you. Cum for me, I want to feel it,” Touya purrs, bending forward to brace one hand by your head. The other still pining you down by the back of the neck.

The staples adorning his wrist feel cold against your overheated flesh. Oddly enough, the difference in temperature is what pushes you over the edge.

You cum, brutally. Pussy fluttering, gripping Touya so tight you can’t believe he’s still sliding in and out of you. Heat gushes through you in waves, curling your toes.

“Oh!” you gasp, a pressure building in your bladder. “You’re gonna make me squirt,” you say in surprise. Fingernails bite into your skin, warm breath is against your ear.

“Then fucking do it baby,” he breathes, never slowing his pace. A thrill runs through you, fingers curling in the sheets.

Pleasure ripples through you as you squirt. Soaking the sheets and Touya’s inner thighs. Your mouth stays open in a silent scream.

Touya moans in your ear, whispering words of encouragement as he works you through it. You notice his cock start to twitch inside you as you come down from your high.

Touya murmurs sweet nothings against your ear, letting you know he’s about to cum.

You tell him just how much you want it, how much you need to him to fill you up—and he does just that. Pressing all the way in until his balls fit snugly against your pussy. 

Touya cums with a noise that sounds like it’s been punched from his chest. Panting as he nudges your knees out from you, so you both collapse to the mattress.

You both catch you breath for a moment, Touya letting himself go soft before he makes a move to pull out. 

Touya rolls off you gently, onto his back. You breathe a sigh of relief, turning your head to see if his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, cheeks flushed from the strenuous movements.

“I’m great,” you laugh, poking his ribs. He chuckles, giving you a half smile. “Can you get me a towel? Seeing as it’s your fault I’m a mess now,” you tease. Touya rolls his eyes playfully.

You flip over onto your back as retreats to get a towel, returning swiftly.

”Thank you,” you hum, cleaning yourself the best you can, not bothering to put clothes back on as you get under the blankets.

You sigh happily, turning on your side as the bed dips. Touya settles down facing you, snaking an arm around your waist to tug you closer.

“I love you,” you whisper, trailing your fingers down the side of his face, stopping to press on one of his staples under his eye. 

“I love you,” he replies, just as softly.

”I’ll follow you to hell, you know that, right?” You say, raising an eyebrow. He sighs, leaning forward to brush a kiss over your forehead.

“I know. I’ll incinerate the world for you, you know that, right?” He teases, placing his forehead on yours. You laugh gently, nodding as you kiss him once more.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Twenty Six

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Again, just a reminder to people who may not have seen the very important update. Sarah is no longer a part of JP due to her own choice and wanting to go a different direction. She was a big part of this and gave me fabulous ideas that helped build this story. But from this moment forward, it will be only me. Nothing major will change, I'll still be the one writing it and posting it. But I had to rework a lot of things; some I know all of you will enjoy!

TAGS ARE CLOSED! Tumblr won't allow me to tag anyone else, I'm so sorry!

So with that being said, ENJOY THIS CHAPTER MY LOVES!

Tags[CLOSED]: @blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @teenblues @malice-ov-mercy @krisslee18 @xxkittenkissesxx @happi-goth @embracethereaper42 @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @bloody-delusion-expert @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @a1ex-ba1ex @sideeyenoah @emzandthevoid @badomensls @bellaboo967 @waake-mee-up @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @cncohshit @amelia-acero @karenfranco @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @bleachampion @thepastelfae @supersquirrel1996 @madomens @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

NOAH

I drummed my fingers along the wood of the table, humming a soft beat to myself while the hustle and bustle of the cafe moved around me. Conversations were muted as my dark eyes stared out the large window next to the booth I’d been sitting in for the last hour and watched as people went about their days.

“I'm so afraid that the walls that I have made have locked me in. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend,” I sang under my breath, still gazing outside. 

The thought of wondering what those individuals were going through privately lingered in my mind for a few beats before a certain movement caught my eye. My heart began to beat widely in my chest, seeing those soft waves brush along her bare shoulders due to the wind. The brightness of the sun paled in comparison to the yellow of her sundress. My gaze lingered on her long legs, tracing over the design of her Greek Gods tattoo on her thigh then over to the other thigh where one of her favorite tattoos was on full display. 

The album artwork of nothing, nowhere’s second album Reaper. 

I continued to look over all of her other tattoos as she walked closer to the cafe where I waited for her. The flowers and leaves on her left arm and Kaonashi on her right arm. As she stepped closer to the window, I saw the small Totoro tattoo on her inner ankle and the memory of us getting our somewhat matching tattoos on her birthday came to mind, causing me to smile fondly. 

The door opened, the old bell above it ringing loudly, causing the woman behind the counter to brush away the silver strands of hair from her face. The two women smiled at each other before one of them waved. 

“Usual?” The woman behind the counter asked. 

“You know me so well, Astrid.” 

“Hi, angel,” I smiled as Y/N’s eyes found mine in the busy crowd of Fika. 

“Hi yourself, Mochi,” she placed a gentle kiss on my cheek before sitting next to me in the booth. 

Immediately I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her into my chest, breathing in her familiar scent of peaches that lingered on her skin. 

“How was therapy?” I asked after handing her one of Fika’s famous kanelbullar, which she took with a grateful smile. 

“Good,” she licked her sticky fingers. 

My cock twitched in my shorts and I discreetly had to adjust myself underneath the table. 

“We talked about my parents,” Y/N sighed. 

The last couple of weeks her mom had been trying to call her, Y/N never answering because she didn’t want her mom to affect her mentally. Any time they had a conversation, it drained Y/N. 

Her dad, however, they talked almost every other day for a few minutes. But the last phone call had been more than three days ago because he’d been sick and couldn't find the strength to talk. It worried both Y/N and I but her dad reassured us that it was merely the flu and he’d be back on his feet in no time. 

“Have you texted your dad to check in?” I asked while playing with the ends of her hair. 

She somberly nodded. “A bit. But he’s still fighting the flu. Maybe I’ll facetime him once I’m back at your place.”

I kissed the side of her head. “What about your mom?” 

I knew the subject of her mom was always sore for her but I still tried to help her keep that connection. 

“She keeps discrediting everything I’ve done with Hollow Souls,” Y/N snorted. “I’ll talk to her once I’m more level headed and don’t say something out of line.”

Even though she didn’t say it, I knew she was done talking about her parents, so instead I motioned towards Astrid who stood behind the counter. 

“They haven't said one word to each other,” I informed her before pointing to Jolly.

Whenever he wasn’t busy with Bad Omens, he would be here helping Astrid run Fika. 

“I wonder what happened. They seemed so happy at the aquarium last week,” Y/N frowned. 

I rubbed her shoulder. “I think she’s still dealing with the aftermath of her fathers death. Jolly mentioned that she had a nightmare the other night; something about finding her dad.” 

Y/N cursed under her breath, still keeping her gaze on our two best friends. It was as if they were employees, by passing each other with curt nods, and not a couple that was slowly falling in love with each other. After everything they’d gone through to get where they were, it made my heart hurt for them. It seemed as if the shift happened a few days ago after Jolly officially moved in with her. 

“I know she was interested in seeing Dr. Poulos. Maybe that will help her open up,” Y/N said. 

We watched in silence for a moment as Jolly went to move past Astrid behind the counter to refill the coffee maker. It was a tight squeeze so he had to rest his hand against her lower back and even from this distance, I could see a small flicker of light in her eyes. Both of them shared a look and Jolly leaned down to kiss her lips; both of their bodies relaxing into each other. 

Maybe they’ll be alright.

“Oh shit,” Y/N said while rubbing my thigh. “I forgot to tell you. Chase and Malcolm have asked me if they can have the apartment to themselves tonight.”

I chuckled while finishing up my coffee. “So my place again?” 

“If you don't mind?” She batted her eyelashes at me with a pouty lip. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to devour them in the crowded cafe. We’ve both been extremely busy with work and other things that we barely had more than a few minutes of alone time together. We spent the last four nights away from each other but whenever we were able to spend the night together, it had been at my place most of the time. 

Which caused this offer to plague my mind ever since we came home from tour a few weeks ago. Nerves ate away at me as I did my best to gain the courage to ask her this because it was a big step for us and I didn’t want her to feel like I was pressuring her. 

“You know,” I dragged my fingers up and down the shoulder it was wrapped around. “You already have all of your stuff at my place and you spend most nights there, might as well make it official.” 

A soft intake of her breath as she stared up at me, something flashing in her eyes as they darted between mine with the wonder if she’d heard me correctly. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” She asked. 

I nodded with a small smile. “I would give you a key but you already have one.”

“Shouldn’t you talk about it with Jesse and Michael?”

There was so much hope laced with her voice but also clear hesitation, not wanting to overstep when others were involved. So I reassured her with a tender kiss to her lips, one Y/N breathed into. 

“They don’t care, angel. They’re the ones who suggested it,” I said while resting my forehead against hers. “We have the space now since Jolly moved out. I want to be able to wake up to your face every morning. Feel your body next to mine as I sleep, easing away the worries of if you’re doing okay.” 

Y/N blinked away the tears while dragging a finger over my cheek. “What about Salem?” 

“You seem to forget that he’s been living there more than you have,” I chuckled. 

It was true. 

She’d been so busy with Hollow Souls lately that it was best to leave Salem at my place so he would have company with Jesse and Michael. 

“So what exactly are you asking?” She teased, wanting to hear the words fall from my lips. 

“Move in with me, angel. Please?” I finished my own pouty lip.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she ruffled my hair. 

The vice grip around my heart loosened at hearing her accept and I pulled her closer into me as we discussed plans on how we would go about moving all of her things to my place. We had a free weekend coming up and figured it would be the best time. 

“Do you think Matt will let us borrow his truck?” Y/N asked as we both went about cleaning up our table and bringing over the dishes to Jessica, the manager of Fika, and she thanked us with a smile.

“He’ll be busy so it should be fine,” I said. 

Her eyes lit up with sheer curiosity. “Oh, how’s everything going with them? She’s been kicking ass as our photographer.” 

I gave her a sly smirk, one she immediately knew the answer to, and she giggled. “I’m glad. He deserves it.” 

Glancing at my watch, I knew that I had to run next door quickly to avoid being late so I bid Y/N a goodbye with a kiss. 

“I’ll call you after therapy,” I promised. 

She squeezed my side. “I’m going to head to the store and pick up some boxes. Anything specific for dinner tonight?” 

“Whatever you want, angel,” I cupped her cheek.

Three days later, the Hollow Souls apartment was filled to the brim with not only stacks upon stacks of moving boxes but all of us moving in and out to pack up the various cars. 

Chase and Malcolm were busing turning Y/N’s old room into a studio; something she playfully gave them shit for. 

“I’m not even out the door and you two are changing my room around!” She mocked with a hand over her heart. 

But she was beyond excited to have an actual studio close by so whenever she was feeling inspired to work on something new, she didn’t have to rent out a place.

As I was taping up the box that held all of her books, I noticed Y/N was leaning against the kitchen counter with a grimace on her face. 

“Angel,” I called over to her. “Take my car and go home. Lay on the couch with your heating pad.” 

That word made all of my nerve endings burn with excitement. 

Home.

“I’ll be fine,” she waved me off. 

Setting down the tape, I crossed the threshold from the living room into the kitchen to rest my hands on her hips. Her endometriosis pains have been debilitating the last few days but today was the worst I’ve seen. Y/N had been trying to push through all afternoon to help pack up her things but all of us knew that she was seconds away from crumbling to the ground in pain. 

Just then, Michael stepped into the apartment after loading up my car with boxes so I tossed him my keys. 

“Can you take Y/N home? And make sure she rests?” I asked. 

Even though he was playful with his banter, I knew he was excited to take a break from moving things. 

“I will gladly be a babysitter,” he motioned for Y/N to follow. 

But she wasn’t ready to stop protesting. 

“These are my things. I should help-.” 

I cut her off with a gentle pat to her ass and pushed her towards the open door. “We’re almost done here so you won’t be missing much. Grab some food on the way home and we can watch a movie tonight.”

She smiled fondly at me, one that made my heart stutter in my chest. “I love the way that word sounds; home.” 

I agreed by kissing her lips. “I love you, angel.” 

“I love you more, mochi,” she proclaimed over my lips. 

A few hours later, I had all of Y/N’s things packed in her car and was about to head back inside to let Chase and Malcolm know that I was headed home when an unfamiliar car pulled up into the spot next to me. After spending some time here, I became familiar with what apartment complex belonged to what car so I knew that this one didn’t belong here. 

It wasn't until the familiar face stared back at me over the tops of the cars that a low scowl pulled on my lips. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Y/N’s mom sneered towards me. “Where’s my daughter?” 

I couldn't help but snort at how she greeted me but did my best to remain calm by running a hand through my hair. 

“She’s not here. She’s at home,” I answered while opening up the door to her car, ready to leave. 

Her mom raised a brow. “Her car is here. This is her home, what do you mean she’s not here?” 

For a moment, I stood perplexed on whether or not to tell her why Y/N wasn’t here. I knew that it wasn't my business to tell but also knew that her mom wouldn’t stop badgering either of us until she found out what she wanted. 

“All you need to know is that she’s fine. I’ll let her know you stopped by,” I said with a forced smile. 

The sun had set long ago, the bright glow of the moon casting over the parking lot and the distaste on Y/N’s moms face. The way her judgmental eyes lingered on my tattoos that poked out from my sweater and shorts did nothing to help the growing scowl on my face. The little voice in my mind kept telling me to be respectful since this was Y/N’s mom. 

“You can’t keep her from me,” she crossed her arms over her designer suit. 

I gripped the handle of the door, knuckles going white, and let out a long, deep breath. 

“I’m not forcing Y/N to do anything, ma’am. She’s an adult and makes her own choices,” my voice had taken an unexpected edge to it; something she picked up on. 

Those eyes cast towards the boxes in the car and let out a very obnoxious gasp; suddenly putting two and two together. 

“You claim she can make her own choices but you forced her to move in with you?” 

“You think you know shit when you don’t,” I snapped, not being able to keep my composure any longer. 

It had been months of constant belittlement from her towards Y/N with every phone conversation or text message and it had been me there to pick up the pieces; every fucking time. I was tired of seeing the light drain from my angel's eyes because of her own mom. 

“Excuse me?” She gasped. 

Rolling my eyes, I leaned my arms over the top of the car and now narrowed my eyes at her. 

“You don’t get the right to continue to talk down to your daughter and expect her to have a relationship with you. It’s fucked up that you expect all these things from her when it’s not who she is.” 

She snarled. “Language, young man.” 

“Fuck that,” I scoffed. “Y/N turned out to be an amazing young woman. She built Hollow Souls from nothing and overcame the fear of what would happen once Trey left. She’s thriving in all aspects of her life and we’re all so fucking thankful to be able to witness it. If you can’t be proud of any of that, then why are you even here?” 

My voice was raised causing Chase to pop his head out of the open door of the apartment ready to ask what was wrong but froze when he noticed who my anger was directed towards. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he hissed while stepping out onto the front lawn. 

“Not now, Jace,” Y/N’s mom waved at him like he was an annoying pest. 

“Chase,” he corrected. “You have no right showing up here, you know that. Especially with what happened last time you surprised Y/N.” 

I remembered that all too well. It was before we were dating and it took me forever to pull her out of that slump. Her mother reminded Y/N that she could never be a mom due to her condition. 

A topic her mother knew nothing about. She didn’t understand the hope Y/N had for the possibility of being a mom.

Her mother stomped the heel of her shoe to the concrete. “I have a right to my daughter!” 

“No you don’t,” I shook my head while standing next to Chase now. “We’re both standing up for her. She doesn’t need your negativity.”

Her moms eyes bounced between us before brushing away her graying hair and that's when I noticed the very large diamond on her left finger. 

Mother fucker. That’s why she was here. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath. 

“Not that it’s any of your business but I came to tell my daughter that I’m getting married and I would love to have her there. She needs to meet the man that will become her new father,” her mother divulged in that condescending tone that irritated everyone around her. 

Chase squeezed his fists at his side, trying his best to keep his composure. “You’re unbelievable. You can’t expect your grown daughter to call another man dad when she already has one.”

“That man can’t even get on a plane to visit his own daughter! His life in Japan is more important,” her mother sneered. 

“When was the last time you actually reached out to Y/N without the intent to boast about your life? When was the last time you actually cared about what’s going on in her life?” I demanded to know with furrowed brows. 

When her mom remained silent, I nodded more so to myself knowing my answer was right. 

“Her dad facetimes her every day to ask how her day went. He doesn’t let the insane time difference stop him. He called her the other day to show her this manga book shop down the road from his place because he knows how much she loves it.”

“Man-what?” Her mother shook her head confused. 

I pinched my eyes shut with a longer breath than before. Chase, on the other hand, let his anger be known. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that? You don’t give a shit about Y/N, you never have. Ever since the divorce you made her choose you in regards to everything. You never believed in any of her dreams, you didn’t believe her when she tried to confide in you about what a dick Trey was. When she tried to tell you how she finally found the one, you brushed it off as a pipe dream and said it wouldn’t last.”

My eyes snapped over to Chase with his words, this being the first time I heard this. 

The one. 

I couldn’t ignore the way my heart leaped in my throat with sheer happiness at hearing those words. I always knew deep within me that Y/N was it for me but knowing that she felt the same as well eased away that negative voice in my mind that told me she would leave me alone in a hotel room again. 

She wouldn’t. I knew she wouldn’t. 

“My wedding is in a few weeks. Tell my daughter I expect her there,” Y/N’s mom ignored everything Chase had said and opened her car door. 

“We’re busy,” I said with a curt nod. “But I wish you the best in your upcoming nuptials.”

She slammed the door and took four steps towards me while pointing a finger in my face. “I do not appreciate your condescending tone, young man! You will show me some respect since you’re dating my daughter.”

Chase stepped forward but I held out a hand, letting him now I was alright. 

“Respectfully, ma’am, I don’t have to do a damn thing.”

“You think just because you’re some hot shot musician that she’ll stay with you? You want a family, that’s something she can’t give you. Save yourself the heartbreak and let her down gently. I have a spare bedroom in my house up in the hills she can move into. I’ll have the maid get it ready for her.”

I blinked at her, the audacity of her thinking that I would break up with Y/N because of her endometriosis stilling me for a long beat. 

“Bitch,” Chase grumbled under his breath. “You have a lot of fucking nerve for even assuming Noah would leave Y/N because of that.”

“I love Y/N with my entire fucking soul,” I pointed a finger to my chest. “We’d gone through hell for our souls to find each other after everything and I would rather die than let her slip away from me again.”

Her mom’s lips parted, ready to interject, but I cut her off. “And I’ll be damned if I continue to allow you in her life when all you do is discredit all the hard work she’s done. She doesn’t need you. She has all of us that love and support her. So if that’s something you don’t think you can do, you can get the fuck out of here.” 

My patience had worn extremely thin and I was finished with this conversation. All I wanted to do was swing by the Japanese place downtown to bring us some ramen and lounge on our couch with Y/N. 

Her mom glanced over to Chase, expecting him to say something, but he merely crossed his arms over his chest in a silent agreement with me. She brushed down the front of her pantsuit before retreating back to her car without another word, it peeling away from the parking lot. 

“We should tell Y/N,” Chase said after a beat of silence. 

I nodded. “I’ll tell her. Tomorrow. I just want to enjoy the rest of the night with her.”

Biding each other a goodbye, I finally left the apartment and spent the few miles driving home doing my best to calm down. My knee bounced with agitation when I replayed the conversation with Y/N’s mom over in my head and cursed to myself that I did the same thing I told Y/N not to do. 

I let her mother get under my skin. 

She knew nothing of mine and Y/N’s life, of the plans we’ve made, so she had no right to try and make Y/N change it because she didn’t agree with it. 

With the bag of ramen under my arm, I bounded up the steps towards home and felt all the negative energy the second I opened the door and smiled at the sight in front of me. 

Y/N was laying on the lounger part of the couch with a big blanket and I assumed her heating pad underneath it. Jesse sat next to her with a bowl of popcorn between them, both of them throwing pieces at each other. Michael sat on the far end of the couch with Salem perched in his lap, both of them watching Attack on Titan. 

“Seriously? You guys couldn’t wait till I was home?” I teased while kicking the door shut and setting the food out on the coffee table. 

“I told you he’d be upset,” Jesse mocked Y/N, who stuck out her tongue at him. 

“Whatever, you’re here now,” she extended a hand towards me and I fell next to her onto the couch with a relieved sigh. 

She could feel the tension weighing on my shoulders so she breathed into my hairline. “Everything alright?” 

“It is now,” I admitted while pressing a soft kiss to her stomach that was covered by the blanket.

READER

Humming softly to myself, I kept busy by folding the large pile of clothes on the bed in front of me. Salem had made himself comfortable in a pile of Noah’s sweaters and I didn’t have the heart to move him. It had been a very lazy Saturday spent doing some house chores in the morning and hanging outside with the guys. Noah had left a while ago for a training session with Ash and promised to swing by Fika’s to grab me some mochis. 

I’d been living with Noah for a week now and honestly, not much had changed. It was as if we still found ourselves in that familiar rhythm as before but instead of leaving to go back to my place after a couple of nights, I stayed. 

And I will forever stay by his side. Even if my mom didn’t believe it. 

The following morning after I moved in, Noah told me about my moms visit and all the things that were said by him and her. I was never upset with Noah for sticking up for me, or Chase either. I was upset with how my mom thought so little of not only my life but my relationship with Noah as well. 

Hearing the news she was getting married and wanted me there was laughable; literally. I could help but laugh when Noah mentioned that part and I made sure everyone knew that we were not going to that wedding.

“It’s nothing new, unfortunately,” I sighed into Noah’s chest as he told me about it. “I think it’s best for everyone if I continue the space with her.”

Picking up the familiar gray sweater, I chuckled with confusion as to how it appeared in my pile of clean clothes. The communal Chief sweater that seemed to get passed between all four of us in the house. Padding into the living room, I went to hang it up in the front closet where I saw Jesse typing furiously on his phone. 

“Everything alright?” I squeezed his shoulder before hanging up the sweater. 

“No,” he sighed. 

The anxiety was evident in his voice so I sank down on the couch next to him, urging him on with a gentle squeeze of his knee. 

“It’s Maxxine. I’d been trying to get together with her since the aquarium but she’s been ghosting me. It’s not the first time either,” he admitted with another sigh. 

My heart sank for my friend but yet my anger for how Maxxine was treating him burned brighter. Yes, she was my friend as well, but I didn’t like how she was treating Jesse. He’d been a sweetheart their entire relationship and didn’t deserve any of this. 

“Was it rude of me to break up through text?” He wondered. 

It was my turn to sigh while pulling my knees to my chest. “Honestly, a bit. But if she’s ghosting you and not even trying, it might not be worth keeping the relationship alive, Jesse.”

“It’s hard being the only one trying,” he said with a somber voice. 

I rested my head on his shoulder. “I know.”

We sat like that for a minute and I couldn’t help but smile at how many amazing people I had in my life. Through it all, they stayed by my side even when I was in the wrong for how I treated Noah that night so long ago. 

Suddenly both of our phones went off with a similar text tone and as we glanced down at the screens, Jesse raised a brow. 

To: Hollow Omens Atlas Chief

Chase: Oak Gardens at the Descanso Gardens tomorrow night. Seven p.m. Dress attire is somewhat formal. Just bring yourselves. 

Nicholas: That’s vague but somehow informal. 

Folio: Lucky for you, my schedule just cleared up for the foreseeable future. 

Jolly: Shit, Nick. What happened?

Three bubbles appeared then disappeared for a moment before appearing again. 

Folio: I wasn’t the only one. 

Jesse and I shared a look and now the anger I felt before because of Maxxine was tenfold for the pain Folio was going through. It didn’t say much with those four words but yet, they told a story about another one of my friends going through something they didn’t deserve.

“I don’t like all of these breakups. They usually come in threes,” I semi joked. 

Jesse worked out a reply into the group chat, it appearing on screen. 

Jesse Cash: Please tell me that everyone else's relationship is safe. 

Mal: We’re good over here. 

Jolly: More than alright. Astrid has been going to therapy and she’s making great strides.

I couldn’t stop the smile and sheer joy I felt knowing that Jolly and Astrid were finally reaching a better place in their relationship. 

Me: I guess Noah and I are alright 😜

Mochi 🍡: Funny, angel. It's really funny. 

Michael: I’m still single so no need to worry about me.

Knowing that Michael was upstairs in his bedroom alone gave me pause, wondering how he was doing. I couldn’t help but worry about all of my friends.

Chase: Now that we’ve all either reassured that our relationships are fine while some of us need something to forget the pain of a breakup, Malcolm and I will see all of you tomorrow night at seven p.m. 

Bryan: Wait, what about Matt? Are we sure they’re still doing fine?

Bryan: Also can’t wait for tomorrow, Chase. I’ll bring my camera.

Matt: Y’all realize how annoying it is to have the group chat blowing up while we're watching Greys?

Snuggling deeper into the couch while Jesse got up to get started on dinner, my fingers typed quickly on the screen. 

Me: She got you watching Greys?

Davis: He actually got her into it. I know since I’m currently sitting on their couch with them watching it.

Matt: Fuck off, bro.

As the group chat continued to blow up, text after text, I heard the front door click open to reveal a sweaty Noah; his shirt clinging to the muscles of his back and his shorts were showcasing his thick thighs, the tattoos clenching as he strode further into the house. 

“Hi,” he mused while placing a kiss on my lips. 

I scrunched up my nose at the scent that lingered on his skin. “You stink.” 

Noah chuckled. “Ash really kicked my ass today. What’s for dinner?” 

As he turned towards Jesse in the kitchen, I called after him. “Shower first. I can still smell you!” 

Noah slowly turned back to face me, a playful smirk on his lips, and suddenly I felt fear creep into my bones. 

“What’s that, angel? I smell?” He cocked his head to the side. 

“Shit,” I cursed but then giggled when Noah jumped on top of me. 

His large body engulfed me, wiping his dried sweat all over my skin. I felt the stick strands of his hair in my mouth, causing me to gag on the taste of it. His fingers worked against the sensitive spots of my ribs and then thighs, tickling me with no remorse. 

“Please,” I gasped in between fits of giggles. “I can’t. You know how ticklish I am!” 

Noah ignored me and continued to crush me under his weight, pinning me to the couch as he dug his fingers deeper into the skin of my thighs. 

“Say it!” He demanded. 

“NEVER!” I shouted back while trying to squirm out from under him. 

He grabbed my wrists to pin them above my head, forcing me to smell his armpits. I cringed while still fighting underneath him; the smile never leaving our faces. 

“Say it!” 

I shook my head, trying to maneuver my nose away from his armpit. “Never! You’ll never get me to say those words.”

Footsteps bounded down the stairs and through the small opening over Noah’s shoulder, I saw Michael watching the scene with wide eyes. 

“What the hell is happening?” 

Jesse chuckled while looking through the various take out menus we had. “Y/N said Noah stinks so now they’re having a tickle fight.”

“Assholes! Help me out here, he’s forcing my face into his armpit. I don’t want to smell it,” I called out to Jesse and Michael, who simply watched with amused expressions. 

Noah rubbed his armpit over my cheek while I smacked his chest. “FINE! YOU WIN!”

He pumped his hands in the air while sitting on my lap, cheering loudly, and then bent low to capture my lips in a kiss. 

“I stink now,” I jutted out my bottom lip. 

“I guess that means we both need to take a shower,” he fanned over my lips.

His pupils dilated, sheer black overtaking them, and I quickly patted his thigh so he could hop off of me. 

“I need to finish the laundry,” I did my best to fix my clothes before scurrying off into our bedroom down the hall. 

“Let me help, angel!” Noah called behind me as he chased me down the hallway, pinning me against the door. 

JESSE

When the door to Y/N’s and Noah’s room shut and Salem came trotting down the hallway before jumping onto the kitchen counter, I shared a look with Michael. 

“Think they’ll be fine with tacos?” I asked while holding up a menu for one of our favorite taco trucks that was always parked down the block from us. 

Michael shrugged before walking over to Salem’s empty food bowl, filling it up. “Give me five minutes and I’ll come with you.” 

As he ran back up the stairs, I slipped on my gray hat with the white flower to hide my unruly curls and tapped the back pocket of my jeans to make sure my wallet was still there. As I went about cleaning up the living room, setting the pillows and blankets back in their respective places, Michael appeared in the living room again. 

“Ready?” He asked before leaving a soft kiss on Salem’s head.

With a nod, we both began the short walk down the block towards the taco truck. 

“How are things with Maxxine?” Michael wondered as the skyline in front of our eyes faded from a bright orange to a dull gray. 

As the houses turned to downtown buildings, I let out a long breath, doing my best to keep my composure. City lights and skylines were always the guide to a wandering mind, one that wouldn’t stop. 

“I broke up with her. It felt one sided so I realized I deserve more than being strung along,” I scuffed my already worn down shoe against a rock. 

Michael patted my shoulder. “You do, Jesse. You’ll find someone that will want all of you, all the time.” 

I shrugged, the taco truck coming into view. “I doubt it. I’m starting to think love isn’t in the cards for me.”

Since I broke up with Maxxine earlier, all I could think about was if I had done something to push her away. Was my anxiety too much for her? Did she not enjoy the time we spent together when I was home from touring? 

Was I not enough for her?

These thoughts were binging on shadow and smoke, my worries endlessly coming undone. All of it tiny little pieces that mirrored each other, a broken glass looking in. My heart was shattered with the undoing of a relationship I thought would last and it longed to be whole again. 

“I never thought that I could withstand falling short when I'm a broken man,” I sighed while coming to a stop at the end of the line in front of the truck. 

Michael gave me a somber smile before reading over the menu even though we already knew what we were going to order. My mind continued to be on other things, the sound of food unappealing all of a sudden. 

The soft tone of a giggle graced my ears and when my eyes glanced up from the broken concrete at my feet, I saw a woman a few feet in front of me laughing at something one of her friends had said. 

She was breathtaking. 

The way her hair fell over her shoulders, unmoving even with the wind that blew around us. The freckles that somehow managed to sparkle under no light. And the way her eyes made every one of my nerves ignite with a force that took my breath away. 

Bright as the ocean and lips so soft, so pure; waking lips to greet the sun. When she smiled wide, something deep within me awoke that lay dormant for so long. Not even my relationship with Maxxine made me feel this way; this alive. I didn’t know anything about this woman, only the fact that her laughter seemed to quiet the anxieties plaguing my mind. 

As if she felt me staring from underneath my hat, those striking eyes locked on mine causing a soft sigh to fall from my lips. The tips of my fingers tingle with the need to run them through those soft strands of hair. When the corner of her lip curled up into a smile and her hand raised in a quick wave, I knew that I’d be alright. Finding her in the middle of this busy line on a Friday night was me finding my footing in the fog that never seemed to evaporate from my life. 

I thought my story had ended with my break up but instead, it was only the beginning. A new possibility of wonder, prospect, and maybe even love was lingering in the cityscapes skyline and there was only one thing on my mind; I wanted to keep finding her smile in the epilogue.

NOAH

“You’re what?!” Y/N’s voice was raised, echoing through the trees and causing a few onlookers to glance over at us. 

I rubbed her lower back, muttering into her hairline. “Angel.” 

Chase, who had his fingers linked with Malcolm, just smiled. “We’re getting married.” 

Y/N remained motionless in my embrace, eyes blinking slowly, as she tried to register Chase’s words one final time. 

“You’re getting married?” She asked. 

Malcolm ran a hand through his long auburn curls. “We’re sorry we talked about it without you, sweets. It was kind of a last minute decision.”

“We love each other. I think we’ve always had but never really admitted it,” Chase gazed up at Malcolm. “He’s the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with, might as well make it official.”

I grazed my fingers over the exposed skin of Y/N’s back, feeling the goosebumps rise to her skin. It was a warm but breezy afternoon in Los Angeles and with the olive green exposed back dress she wore, I did my best to keep her warm. The thin strap began to slide down her freckled shoulder so I gently fixed it as she blew out a shaky breath. 

“I’m not upset,” she reassured Chase and Malcolm. “I’m so fucking happy for you guys!” 

As the three of them shared a hug, I peered over to the large group of friends that came here tonight. It was amazing how much all of our lives changed in the almost two years since Hollow Souls and Bad Omens toured together. Both bands grew and flourished in their new eras while all of us individuals did the same. Every single one of us were living different lives but somehow we managed to make the time to find our way back to each other. We were one giant family that cared and loved each other. We looked out for one another and when someone was going through something, we all were. 

The sun was still high in the sky casting a bright glow over the rows of chairs and the simple vine arch. Chase and Malcolm weren’t the kind of guys that wanted something over the top. They explained that the ceremony would be an exchange of vows and rings ending with a kiss. They didn’t want a party afterwards because they had plans on leaving right from here for a little getaway before tour life picked up again.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around my midsection and I gazed down at her with a fond smile. 

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” She played with the undone buttons on my black shirt, my chest piece peaking through. 

I hummed while grazing my nails up and down her exposed spine, over the snake tattoo there. 

“I don’t think you have, angel.”

Now her fingers brushed away a few loose strands of hair that fell into my eyes. 

“Well, you look absolutely gorgeous and I love you,” she praised. 

With one hand grazing up and down her back, I cupped her cheek with the other one to lay a caressing kiss to her lips. I felt her breathe into it, allowing me to slowly take control. Lazily, my tongue glided over her bottom lip, tasting sweet like honey, and I nipped over them with my teeth.

“You taste like sugar,” I mused while resting my forehead against hers. 

Every kiss was always spell binding, soul intertwining, and intoxicating. I couldn’t get enough of her. 

“Malcolm joked about me being the flower girl,” Y/N chuckled while linking fingers with mine, slowly dragging me over to our group of friends. 

“Does that mean I get to be the ring bearer?” I teased, swaying our hands together. 

She merely winked before we met up with Jolly and Astrid and as we talked with them, waiting for the ceremony to start, I glanced around to everyone else around us again. 

Nicholas was slow dancing to the music with his girlfriend.

Bryan was busy taking pictures of Chase and Malcolm. 

Davis and Steven were talking with Matt, who kept his eyes on the blue haired girl that was taking pictures of the scenery around us. I didn’t miss the way Matt watched her with love in his eyes; it was the same look I gave Y/N. 

Jesse was already sitting in one of the chairs having an in depth conversation with his date. The girl he met at the taco truck last night. It had been a whirlwind of an evening for him last night with him inviting her back to our place where we let them have the backyard alone. They spent the entire evening talking, Y/N peaking through the slit of the blinds. 

“Angel,” I chastised her while laying in bed. “Stop spying!”

She scoffed while looking over her shoulder. “I am not spying! I just want to make sure they’re alright. Maybe I should bring them something to eat.”

“Get them a fruit basket,” I grumbled to myself before pulling her back into bed with me.

The most softest breeze blew past us causing Jesse to brush away her blonde hair from her shoulder so he could lay his jacket over them. 

“Who’s that?” Astrid wondered, motioning to the girl on Jesse’s left. 

“That is Tay. Her and Jesse met last night at the taco truck down the block from us. I guess they really hit it off,” Y/N said. 

Jolly’s brows pulled together with a look I’d been on the receiving end one too many times. 

Dad Omens.

“He already invited her to a wedding?” Jolly asked while resting a hand on Astrid’s waist. 

I shrugged. “This one is different, Jolly. I’ve never seen Jesse like this. They spent all night just talking.” 

Y/N pointed to someone else, who was sitting at the outdoor bar by himself, hunched over with the weight of his own inner turmoil. Folio soon joined him at the bar, both of them clinking their beers together in a somber cheer.

“I feel bad for those two,” she pointed to Michael and Folio. “Especially Nick. No one deserves to find out they’re the other man.”

I brushed my lips over her hairline. “They’ll be alright. Michael doesn't mind being alone and Nick will bounce back. We’ll make sure of it.” 

Suddenly, Chase and Malcolm called us all over to our seats and I followed Y/N close as she led us to a couple of seats in the front row. As they said, the ceremony was simple, one that we all watched with adoration in our eyes while Chase and Malcolm exchanged their own vows, causing Y/N to sniffle next to me. 

“Fuck,” she blew out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe they’re about to be married.”

I grazed my finger over the exposed skin of her thigh, leaving goosebumps in my wake, and only hummed; too far gone in my exploration of the woman in front of me. 

The setting sun caught the auburn highlights in her hair, recently dying it brown again to cover the blonde roots. It shimmered as she shifted in her seat, the scent of her peach shampoo that I loved so much tickled my nose. It was a sense of familiarity that I found myself craving the nights she was away. But now that she slept in my bed every night, I breathed a little easier knowing she’d never be far from me again. 

I traced over the freckles that peppered her cheeks and nose before lingering over the faint scar on her face she got when she was a kid from falling off her bike. Her laugh when Malcolm made an old Hollow Souls joke made my heart flutter in my chest, those butterflies that only flew for her moving at a rapid pace. The lone tear that slipped down her cheek when she watched Chase hold back his own. 

Just gazing at her beauty was enough to steal all the breath from my lungs as the memories of everything we’d gone through began to play in my mind. It was a very rough road to get to this moment, we both did and said things we regret because of the lack of communication between us. But like everyone told me in those dark moments, it will be worth it. She’ll be by your side once both of you are ready.

Now that I had her, I wanted to make sure she knew I’d never let her go. 

This idea had been circling in my mind for weeks, long before I asked her to move in with me, but seeing Y/N sitting in front of the setting sun that casted her in an aura all her own, I knew that I couldn’t put this off any longer. 

As the ceremony came to a close, Chase and Malcolm sealing their love with a kiss, I rose to clap alongside everyone else in the midst of all my planning. Before I could do anything, I needed to have two very important conversations. 

One via phone and the other via the air around me.

READER

Through the open window, the serenading birds and soft breeze woke me from the heavy slumber I found myself in. It had been a long night spent in the studio with Chase and Malcolm, working on a new single. It had been a while since our album was released and we were itching to get back in the studio to create something. We didn’t have plans on releasing it anytime soon, I just felt inspired to record something. 

Weeks spent writing in my old and battered journal, the scratching of pencil on paper keeping Noah awake most nights. Not that he minded. 

Patting the bed next to me, I expected to feel a warm chest but instead felt cool sheets underneath my palm. Popping my head out from underneath the pillow, I blinked a few times to adjust to the bright rays of the sun and raised a confused brow when I saw the empty space beside me. 

“Noah?” I called out, voice rough from sleep. 

Clearing my throat, I sat up in bed while clutching the sheet to my bare form and gazed around the even emptier room. Salem was nowhere to be seen, meaning that he snuck out earlier knowing that Michael always fed him his breakfast. 

“Fuck, it’s almost ten?” I sighed while dragging a hand over my face. 

Rarely did I sleep in, both Noah and I early risers, but I didn’t crawl into bed until almost 2 a.m. And didn’t fall asleep till almost four because Noah wanted to have a little taste of me. 

When I went to reach for my phone, I noticed a bright orange sticky note posted to the lamp. 

Angel,

I hope you slept in because you deserve it. Sorry you woke up alone but I had to leave early because we have a fun day planned. So eat some breakfast and get ready. I’ll see you soon.

Mochi.

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread to my face and the giggles that fell from my lips as I nearly stumbled out of bed while tripping over the sheet to run into the adjacent bathroom. I didn’t need to bring much of my things when I moved in since Noah already had a lot of my necessities here already. 

As I turned the shower dial all the way to hot, I let the steam fill the bathroom just as my eyes landed on another bright orange sticky note on the mirror. 

“What are you up to, Noah?” I chuckled while ripping off the sticky note. 

Angel,

Somehow I knew you would want to get ready before making yourself something to eat. Please make sure you don’t skip out on breakfast. You’re going to need your strength today. 

Mochi.

Since I was already naked, I hastily jumped into the awaiting shower and didn’t bother taking my time. Wherever Noah was, he was waiting for me. With the black towel wrapped around me, I hurried from the bathroom into the large walk in closet, clicking on the light. It glowed over both mine and Noah’s clothes and also over yet another sticky note that was tapped to a pair of folded clothes on the counter in the middle of the closet. 

Angel,

You know I would never tell you what to wear but with what I had planned today, I want you to be comfortable so I chose an outfit I think would best suit that. 

Don’t forget to eat something. 

Mochi.

Dressing in the pair of leggings and the familiar white Bad Omens shirt with the crown of thorns logo he chose, I slipped on a pair of white vans and tossed the large black knitted sweater over my shoulder. Make up was minimal and I decided to leave my hair down, the short waves not bothering me much. Before leaving the closet, I did a once over in the mirror, the light overhead catching the silver chain around my neck and wrist; the ones Noah gifted me on my birthday. All this time later and I never took them off. 

Squealing with excitement, I made sure to turn off all the lights in the bedroom before stepping into the kitchen where I saw Michael and Jesse leaning against the large kitchen island. Both of them had wide grins and Jesse motioned towards the fridge. 

“Open it.”

The fridge rattled from the force I used to open it and I squealed when I saw that familiar orange sticky note posted on a can of Celsius. 

Angel,

I don’t understand how you and Matt drink these but you’re going to need it today. Look on the stove.

Mochi.

Slamming the fridge shut, I pushed past Micheal and Jesse who continued to watch with wide grins as I picked up the goodie bag from Fika that was sitting on top of the stove. 

Angel,

I wanted to make you a giant spread but didn’t have the time. So enjoy a breakfast sandwich from our favorite place. See you soon.

Mochi.

I swiftly turned on my heels and narrowed my eyes at the two men. “What has he planned?” 

Michael shrugged while picking up Salem off the ground, holding him to his chest. My cat purred loudly and buried his face in the crook of Michael's neck. 

“I don’t know. You’re wasting time here talking to us about it though.” 

My eyes widened. “Well, where am I supposed to meet him?” 

Jesse simply winked before taking a large sip of his coffee and held another fresh cup in his hand. “Tay’s waiting for this so have fun today, Y/N.”

If I had time, I would ask how things were going between them, but while scarfing down the breakfast sandwich and chugging half of the Celsius I ran to my car. On the steering wheel was a sticky note; Noah’s familiar chicken scratch of handwriting made me smile. 

Angel, 

5333 Zoo Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90027. Also, peek at the new playlist I made for you on Spotify. 

Mochi.

“The zoo!” I squealed while typing in the address on my phone and then checking out the new Spotify playlist. 

Redo Date. 

With a quick scroll through, I noticed it was filled with songs that mean a lot to us and the first one I chose was ultimately, the most important one. 

“I'm not afraid of the war you've come to wage against my sins. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend,” Noah’s soft voice came through the speakers as I pulled out of the driveway, heading straight towards the man that waited for me. 

By some miracle, the usual heavy traffic was light this morning and I was able to make it to the zoo in under twenty minutes. Immediately my eyes recognized Noah’s car and I pulled into the empty spot next to it. After checking my make up in the mirror, I slid over my sunglasses before stepping out of the car. It was a somewhat cool spring day and I did not need my sweater quite yet. I tied it around my waist just as my eyes caught a bright orange sticky note posted on the inside of Noah’s car window. 

Angel,

I’ll be waiting for you at the entrance. See you soon. 

But if you’re not angel and you’re reading this, that’s fucking weird. 

Mochi.

Before I could take a step, my phone buzzed in my purse and I felt my heart drop at the message that appeared on screen. 

Dad 🖤: Hey buttercup. If you get a few minutes, feel free to call me. I miss you and wondering if we can finally talk about a visit again. Bring Noah this time. Love you and talk soon.

He’d been sick on and off for the last few weeks, more recently feeling healthy. But with the major time difference and how busy my schedule had become, it was hard for me to find time to call him. I did know that in a few months both Bad Omens and Hollow Souls would be busy with their own upcoming tours so maybe I should find time for a visit before then. Making a mental note to call him later, I put my phone on D.N.D and slipped it back into my purse. 

Skipping over towards the entrance of the busy zoo, I quickly spotted the 6’3” tattooed build of the man that held my heart and soul. The invisible string that kept us together vibrated the closer I got. He stood in the midst of the chaos of parents trying to wrangle their kids and teachers doing their best to keep their students in line. Noah wore a simple outfit of black shorts and a matching shirt with a design of an avocado. His growing hair was kept neat under his hat and those striking almond eyes were covered with sunglasses. It was almost futile to hide who he was, those gorgeous legs and tattoos on display for anyone to recognize him. 

Rarely ever did we go out in busy public places like this with the fear of being seen together because we were such private people now. We didn’t want anyone to know our personal business unless they were actively in our lives. 

Almost immediately his hand reached towards mine, pulling me into his chest to lay a tender kiss on my lips. 

“Hi, angel,” he brushed his nose along mine. 

“Hi, mochi.” 

But then, something bright and orange on his chest caught my eye. 

Angel, 

I love you.

Mochi.

Tears welled in my eyes as I took off the sticky note from his chest and placed it in my purse along with all the others from today, besides the one in his car. Noah noticed a tear fall and was quick to catch it with the pad of his thumb. Even though I couldn’t see it due to his sunglasses, I knew his gaze was bouncing between mine. 

“What’s the matter? Did you not like the notes?” He asked with worry etched in his voice.

I grasped his shirt, holding him close to me. “I loved it. It was so thoughtful. No one has done anything like this for me before. Everything you do for me, Noah still ceases to amaze me. I don’t deserve-.”

Noah cut my words off with another kiss. “Don’t say that, Y/N. You deserve all of this and more for everything you’ve gone through. I want to be able to give you that, alright?” 

When I nodded, he wrapped his arm around his shoulder to pull me closer to him before walking through the entrance of the zoo. 

“You know,” I patted his tummy. “I should pay this time. Since you paid the last time.”

Noah chuckled at the memory and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

"What the fuck?" I murmured while rifling through my purse.

"Something wrong?"

Gazing up through my sunglasses, I saw Noah looking at me with concern. He pocketed his glasses so I could see the browns of his eyes sparkle in the sunlight.

"No. Well yea," I sighed letting my purse fall to my side. "I must have left my wallet on the bus. You guys ahead. I'll see you back at the venue."

It all happened so fast; Noah pulling out his own wallet, asking for two tickets, and handing the person behind the counter the correct amount of change.

"Noah," I scolded. "You didn't have to do that!"

"Come on. They're waiting for us," Noah said with an extended arm in front of me.

Of course, Noah paid this time and ushered me in through the entrance with a hand at the small of my back. 

“I’ll let you get it the next time,” he assured me with a nod. 

No he wouldn’t. 

Linking our fingers together, we stopped at the first exhibit and I gazed up at him with a smirk. 

“Chase thought you were staring at my ass that day.” 

Noah snorted with a lopsided grin. “I definitely was.”

With a playful laughter, I let Noah guide me along the way of the zoo, hand in hand.

CHASE

Running a hand over my freshly buzzed hair, I sighed and leaned back into the chair. Malcolm raised his head from his laptop screen, giving me a look of great pause. 

“Did I cut it too short?” He wondered. 

I shook my head, letting him know that he did a great job at cutting my hair. He always did. Playing with the black band around my left finger, I let out another long sigh. 

“I think we should call mixing today. We’ve been going after this track the last couple of days,” I clicked out of the program on the computer before motioning for Malcolm to do the same. 

“We have been meaning to catch up on Survivor,” he reminded as he set the laptop on the desk, following me out of our studio. 

Y/N’s room was the largest one in the apartment so when she moved out, it was almost a given that we would turn it into a studio. Once we were settled on the couch with blankets and snacks, Malcolm loaded up Paramount Plus as I ran my fingers through his long auburn curls. They were unruly today, something I admired every time I stared at him. 

Even though we were officially married now for a couple of weeks, nothing really changed. 

Before we could hit play on the next episode, my phone buzzed next to me, the contact name making me furrow my brows. 

“Why is Y/N’s dad calling you?” Malcolm wondered. 

Shrugging, I hit the green button. “Hey. Mr. Y/L/N. What’s up?” 

A deep cough shook my phone. “Hi, son. I don’t mean to bother you.” 

Malcolm and I shared a look. 

“Don’t even worry about it. Isn’t it the middle of the night where you’re at?” I asked. 

There was a lot of rustling in the background in the midst of all of the voices which made me sit straight up, spine going rigid when an all too familiar beeping sound echoed loudly through the speaker of my phone. 

“Is Y/N around? I’ve been trying to text her but I haven’t heard from her.” 

Malcolm bit the inside of his cheek when we heard how ragged her dad’s voice sounded. 

“She’s out with Noah right now. Some sort of redo date,” Malcolm chuckled. 

“Oh,” the sadness was evident in her fathers voice before he was hit with another coughing fit. This one heavier and deeper. 

I rubbed at the back of my neck. “You still have that cough, huh? It’s been awhile.” 

It took a moment before Y/N’s dad’s voice came through the speaker. “Oh, it’s nothing. I promise. Have Y/N call me if you get a hold of her, would you son?” 

“Sure thing,” I sighed, knowing that whatever was going on with him, he wouldn’t talk to me about it. 

As soon as I hung up, I motioned to Malcolm. “Text her. Her dad didn’t sound good and I didn’t like what I heard in the background.”

While he typed away on his phone, he glanced over at me. “You don’t think he’s-?”

I dragged my hands over my face. “I don’t know what else to think, Mal.”

He gave me a loving squeeze on my thigh just as his text came through the group chat with the three of us.

Mal: Sweets, have you talked to your dad at all? He still has that nasty cough and it doesn’t sound good. 

This user is on Do Not Disturb. Notify them of this message?

“Fuck,” Malcolm muttered under his breath before hitting the notify message. 

I gently grazed my fingers over his back, trying my best to soothe his worries away. 

“Let’s give her a few minutes and then maybe text Noah,” I suggested before we ultimately did our best to keep our minds on the television, not the wellbeing of Y/N’s dad. 

NOAH

Cool breeze like an autumn night brushed along our bodies as we ran down the beach together, Y/N’s laughter sounded like a gentle melody to my ears. The sun was about to set, casting us in a glimmer of moonlight that mirrored off of the dark ocean. Birds flew away from us as I chased Y/N up and down the sandy dunes, doing my best to drag her into the cool water with me. 

“Careful, angel!” I called up to her as she walked along a rocky wall that led out into the water. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

She gave me a wicked smile from above. "Would you catch me if I fell?"

Even though the season changed throughout the day and with the waves crashing around us, I grinned up at her. "Though the skies are turning gray, I'll never let you fall, angel."

As we stood at the edge of the waves now, it soaking our ankles, I watched in slight horror as Y/N walked deeper into the water. 

“What are you doing?” I chuckled while shaking my head. “It’s freezing!”

She shrugged and ran her fingers through the waves. "Come on, the water's fine! Stop being a pussy." 

I raised a brow, the parallels suddenly becoming evident. Kicking off my shoes, I was thankful this time I wore shorts and not skinny jeans as I followed her into the waves. 

"You're insane," I chuckled after reaching her in a couple of large strides. 

Her hands linked behind my neck, playing with the ends of my “ocean fucked hair” with a stunning smile on her face. Both of us were knee deep in the water, our clothes soaked, but neither of us cared. The way she always came alive and free out here made me smile.

“My little duck,” she breathed.

“My little crow,” I mused before capturing her lips in a slow and methodical kiss. 

Every part of it was thought out. The way my tongue brushed along her bottom lip before exploring every inch of her mouth. Her hands continued to play with my hair while mine gripped tight against her soft skin, leaving half crescent shapes from my nails.

"Fuck!" I cursed when cold water splashed up at my chest, Y/N doubling over in laughter as she splashed me again. 

Still reeling from our kiss, I bent low at my knees with a sinister smirk. "You think that's funny?" 

"No!" She began backing away from me, doing her best to walk through the waves. "Don't. I'm sorry." 

Y/N was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath and seeing how alive she looked right now made my heart soar into my throat. I nearly clutched my chest at the feeling. 

"NOWAAH! NO!" 

I tackled her into the water, bringing her underneath the waves with me, our laughter carrying up to the night sky. 

Once we were back on our blanket, somewhat dry and staring back out into the water, Y/N squeezed my hand. 

“Thank you for today, mochi. This was a great redo date,” she rested her head against my shoulder. 

I brushed a kiss along her forehead. “Anything for you, angel.” 

We stayed like that for a few beats of silence, until my always racing mind thought of something. 

“I think I have an idea for the next music video,” I said quietly, gazing at the empty beach. 

We’d been the only ones here since I chose a very secluded area, which made what I planned next even more special. 

“Oh, is it the music video?” Y/N raised a brow before walking a few paces in front of me, then looking over her shoulder. 

She was too far for my liking so leaving the guitar behind along with the song I had planned to play for her, I followed her down the beach again until we came to a sudden stop. 

“I still want to play that song for you,” I said. 

“Just five more minutes. I love the way the waves sound right now,” she replied. 

The sound of the waves crashing echoed all around us, trapping us together. The salty brine lingered on my lips as I licked them, watching Y/N stare out into the vastness of the ocean in front of her. She stood with arms stretched wide and an even wider smile on her face. 

"Do you remember what you told me the last time we were standing on a beach together?" I asked while brushing away the hair that blew into her face. 

With the hair tie around my wrist, I helped her by putting her hair up into a small bun.

She giggled with a nod. "It can't rain all the time."

The memory of us together, all that time ago, was one of the few that replayed in my mind on a loop. Her face filled with so much worry about how she would deal with the Trey situation and afraid that she would drown in the rain. 

But now she glowed with the last few rays of the sunset, the metaphorical halo she wore proving why her nickname fit her so well. 

Angel. 

With one arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her close to my chest, I dug my toes deeper into the sand trying to keep myself grounded. The entire day had been perfect, our redo date becoming a new favorite memory of mine, but there was still one thing left to do. I wanted to do it while I played the song for her but my soul was yearning for it now.

My other hand was stuffed into the pocket of my shorts and it felt like it was wrapped around a weight. My heart would not stop pounding in my chest and I was sure Y/N could feel it against her cheek. 

"Angel," I began with a long breath. 

Just then, her phone began to ring causing her to pull it out of her sweater with a sigh. She went to ignore the call but when I noticed the caller's I.D, I motioned for her to stop. 

"That's the fourth time they've called today, Y/N. You should answer it." 

She frowned. "But I don't want to ruin the rest of our night." 

I pressed a soft kiss to her lips, humming at the taste of her lip gloss. Lately, she has been tasting like honey.

"It's alright. Answer it." 

Nodding, she accepted the call with a smile. "Hey. Sorry, I've-." 

The words died on her tongue as she fell away from me, those bright eyes dulling like the dark cloud that suddenly formed overhead, crackling and booming into the air. Frigid rain drowned us in place and with an unimaginable weight that anchored us, I watched as the light around her halo shattered. 

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + one

authors note: hi! this is a complete rework from another roman story i wrote but needed to redo. it's a mafia au, so understandably super dark. a 'blink and you'll miss it' bit of a beauty and the beast retelling. not meant to be anything groundbreaking or unlike most mafia stories.

i've found that my writing is best when 2nd person pov, so i wanted to challenge myself to make this third person to better my writing, thus, bear with me, ya'll. :)

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

cw/tw: language, violence against women, mention of parental death, vague hinting at past sexual trauma

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes' by leann rimes

words: 5.2k

Through trial and error, mostly error, a lot of error, Solana Miller has learned and mastered most of the things that upset her father. 

Speaking out of turn. Meals not being ready on time. The house being a “mess.” The actual list is a living breathing thing that grows with each day and every unfortunate occurrence, but always at the very top of this list is lack of punctuality. 

There’s nothing Xavier Miller hates more than lateness. 

And that’s exactly what she is. 

Solana nearly faceplants into the three steps leading into the house with how fast she’s running. Her shaking hand and sweaty palm make it take longer than usual to unlock the front door, and the force in which she slams it shut behind her should be enough to knock the nearby family photo off the wall.

The photo that she is not included in, of course. 

She’s brushing off invisible lent as she rushes into her father’s office. “I’m sorry, there was an—” Her panting mouth snaps shut when she reaches the doorway, hand holding onto the frame of the door. “—accident.”

The minute Solana saw the flashing police lights and array of red brake lights was the moment she realized that she was in for a brutal punishment. She’d started to mentally prepare for such, trying to recall if she’s restocked the first aid kit kept in her bathroom and frequently retrieved. But, it’s not until she’s standing in the doorway of her father’s office, an office that’s filled with not only him and her brother, Wes, but other men that she realizes the ferocity of this punishment may be unlike any she’s received in some time.

Not only is she late, but she’s now interrupted some sort of meeting that he wanted her present for. 

Xavier’s eyes land on Solana with faux happiness that conceals flames she recognizes as a precursor for what’s to come. Naturally, like he’s not imagining all the cruel ways he can hurt her, in a way that only he can do, he slaps on a tight smile. “Ahh, there she is.”

Solana also realizes how almost everyone’s gaze is on her, and that doesn't make for a good response because she finds herself asking, “what’s going o—”

Xavier’s smile is very much unlike the ice in his voice. “Silence, child.” 

The sharpness of his command evokes an immediate response. Her shoulders slump and head drops. The displeasure just keeps growing. Solana can already feel the bruises forming, the sting of the ice on her busted lip. 

One of the men, an oversized, middle aged white man with a sharp gaze speaks. “I take it, this is your daughter?”

“It is,” her father confirms. If she didn’t know any better, Solana could almost swear she hears a hint of proudness. “Please forgive her lateness. She knows the importance of obedience.”

And the repercussions of obedience. Repercussions Solana knows await her once this meeting ends.

“I hope she does.” The same white man clears his throat. Solana hears the ruffling of papers but refuses to look up. Her gaze is better served focused on the ground, her silence and submissiveness certainly music to her father’s ears. “We received the requested medical report, and it appears you weren’t lying, Miller. The girl is still a virgin.”

That….that is the moment where it takes all willpower for Solana’s head not to snap up, eyes wide with both confusion and partial recognition. She’d wondered why her father asked her to schedule her yearly check-up with her GYN when she wasn’t due for another couple of months but knew better than to question, so she went ahead and did it. 

And she wondered why this checkup was so….different. Labs were taken, more questions asked, and a vaginal exam that had her leaving more uncomfortable than she’d ever been with Dr. Boyd. Not that seeing the woman was ever an enjoyable time in the first place. She's cold, stoic, an obvious doctor on the mafia payroll, but she's still a woman. 

Solana can't have a male GYN. She can't have a male doctor in any sort of specialty.

The confusion, however, comes into play at this man’s words.

“The girl is still a virgin.” 

That couldn’t be farthest from the truth.

“Her blood work also indicates she should have no problems conceiving a child.”

Emotions overpower reason as Solana breaks her silence and lifts her head. “What?” One furious glance from Xavier, and immediately, she knows that she’s fucked up.

She also realizes that she’s failed to notice one very important member whose sheer size takes up almost the entirety of her father’s onyx black loveseat.

Solana has heard the name Roman Reigns more times than she can keep track of over the years. It’s inescapable to live in this life and not know of the brutal ruler of the Bloodline, one of the most notorious mafia bosses in the underworld. But never in any of her 28 years has she seen him in person. Maybe somewhat in the same vicinity but never in close proximity, not like now where he’s sitting mere feet away from her.

He’s reclined back into the seat, thick legs spread, a blank expression on his handsome, bearded face. His features are sharp and predatory, yet there’s something about his eyes, a beautiful, light shade of brown that’s such a contrast to the cold blooded killer he is. Bulging, rippling muscles seem to be at battle with the plain black shirt he wears, and she notices his silky black hair is pulled back into a surprisingly neat bun of sorts. 

Solana knows that she shouldn't stare, but it’s hard not to. The man is objectively beautiful. He’s also staring directly at her. 

Panicked, her head drops down, eyes returning to continue counting the amount of beige swirls in her father’s persian rug. 

“Shut up…. ”Wes speaks from the other side of the room. He’s leaned up against the column near the bookshelf, lazily spinning around the pocketknife he never goes anywhere without. 

It’s the same knife that’s cut into her skin at least more than a couple of times over the years, drawing various amounts of blood depending on the extent of his anger.

Wes is always angry.

“I’m a man of my word, Mr. Heyman.” Solana doesn’t even need to be looking up to know her father has his hand over his chest, that faux sense of honor painting his harsh features. “I would never disrespect the Tribal Chief by wasting his time.” Solana’s throat goes tight. “My daughter is a worthy candidate.”

Candidate. Heir. Virgin.

It doesn’t take long with these major clues for Solana to piece together what they’re discussing, why her presence was required when never before has her father wanted her anywhere near one of his meetings.

Arranged marriage.

They’re discussing a possible arranged marriage between Solana and Roman Reigns. 

Her fingers flex and suddenly start to rub nervously against the soft material of her dress. Any appetite she had prior to entering the home is no longer present, vacated, replaced by a thick, heaping layer of anxiety.

Arranged marriages are far too common in this life. There’s not a week that’s gone by since she became of age that she doesn't hear about some union between two members of rivaling or partnering families. It's just how these things are done.

However, at 28, much past the typical timeline that daughters are married off, she’d accepted that that was not her fate. And she was okay with that, more than okay. Is okay with that.

Solana has a……complicated relationship with men, anyway. With people in general, but especially men.

The thought of her being paired off to Roman is so bad that it’s almost laughable. Their compatibility is in the negative range. He would never give her a second look, not even a first. A man like him needs someone who matches his prowess. She isn’t even on the radar.

And yet…..

And yet her father has somehow garnered interest, provided his counsel with her medical information “proving” her worthiness, and secured a meeting.

Circling back around to the medical report has her chest feeling tight and heavy. Lies. Her father has clearly paid off Dr. Boyd to write up whatever he believed needed to be said to increase his chances of locking in this deal.

She doesn’t know about the fertility portion, never really bothering or concerning herself with that part of her health. Someone has to have to have sex to conceive a child, and as far as Solana is concerned, that's never going to happen.

Not....not again.

But the virgin part is most definitely a lie. The physical exam certainly would have confirmed that.

And yet, the exact opposite was stated. 

Chills instantly move down her spine. Her father is perpetuating a fraud. Even more, he’s perpetuating fraud to a man who’s rumored to have a body count in the thousands. The same man he’s trying to pawn her off to.

This….this is not good.

It’s not good at all.

—----------

“She’s weak.”

That’s the first thing to leave Roman's mouth since they entered the Miller Manor, and it’s not announced until they're back in the SUV and on their way back to his estate.

Checking emails and clearing notifications that piled during the time his phone was tucked away, he continues. “Too young. Has no backbone. It’s embarrassing.” Roman’s tone, much like everything else about that pointless meeting, reeks of boredom. 

“Her father clearly has her on a tight leash,” Rikishi adds. He brings the handkerchief he keeps in his shirt pocket and swipes it across his forehead, dapping up the light sheen of sweat that’s already formed in the walk from the house to the SUV. “But, a very pretty girl.”

Roman cannot and will not disagree on that. She’s undeniably beautiful, but everything else about her is unappealing. And saying Miller has her on a tight leash is an understatement. She’s terrified of him. The brother too,  and Roman would take a solid guess that one of the two is responsible for the slightly faded but still visible bruise he noticed on Solana’s upper forearm. 

There’s some conflicted emotion present at that piece of information, though he mostly leans in one direction.

Women and children should be off limits. Specifically, women and children who aren’t already indoctrinated into the life to the point of training. Roman knows plenty of kids who completed their first kill while still in single digits and women who fight better than some of his men. For them, it’s free game. They’ve proven they can handle themselves.

Solana doesn’t fall in any of those categories, and he’d be shocked if she even knows how to hold a gun.

Thus, in his mind, she’s off-limits.

Nonetheless, his family is full of fighters, regardless of sex.

So there's the other part of him that can't understand her passivity, that believes she's just weak. 

The thought process generates a list of other, much more adequate options. “What about Belair?”

“Engaged to be married in the Montez family.” Roman rolls his eyes. That fucker is an irritating prick. Seems like a desperate match. 

“Cargill?”

“She….” It’s slightly comical for Roman, watching the older man work his hardest to explain what was inarguably a disrespectful rejection. “---is not interested.” 

A dark chuckle leaves his throat. “She said fuck off, didn’t she?”

“More or less.” 

Roman smiles. He would expect nothing less. Cargill is a beast of a woman, a sure fun time in the sheets if she would ever remove the stick from up her ass.

“If I may, my Tribal Chief….” When Roman remains quiet, he takes that as his cue to continue. “The girl may be young and docile, but that also makes her moldable. She will do whatever you want with no protest. Is that not a possible advantage?” Roman continues to look out the window, allowing Paul to add on, “and she will have no problem giving you an heir, which is inarguably the most important thing at this point in your life.”

“He brings up a good point, uce,” Rikishi chimes. “With your temper, it’s probably best for you to take a wife who is more passive than dominant.”

Logically, it makes sense, but the idea of a stuttering, stammering wife who can’t even maintain eye contact for more than a minute doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. 

“And as far as age, she’s closer to 30 than anything. You go for any older, and you might run into fertility struggles. This is the perfect age.” Rikishi’s crooked smile is followed by a small chuckle. “You ain’t so young yourself anymore, uce. Gotta have an even balance.”

There’s a difference between a balance and a child. Roman is prepared to say as such when Jimmy speaks, deciding to add his two cents from the passenger's seat.

“Look, Big Dog. All you need is for her to give you a kid, and you heard Paul. She can do that. Ain’t no need in making this bigger than what it is.” His insertion and contribution to the conversation ends up being valid. Granted, if he was anyone else, the delivery would have resulted in a maiming. But, this is Jimmy. He’s like a brother to Roman. Him and Jey. Hence their privilege with speaking so bluntly. “Shit, and did you see that body? Mannn, I’d never pull out of that.”

Also a valid point. Her dress was fitted around the chest area, accentuating heavy breast he could most definitely see himself palming as he fucked her from behind. The rest of the dress wasn’t as contoured, but it flowed against her shape when she walked in, and he could make out the curves he was certain she preferred to keep hidden. It’d been a while since he’d taken a woman to bed with a body like hers, a preference, but also not as easy to find in his world of fit assassins and killers who spend more time in the gym than anywhere else.

His latest set of women were on the slimmer side, moderate thickness, nothing like this girl.

But sexual desirability aside, her passivity indicates she’d be….that kind of woman. The woman who expects words of affirmation and quality time. A “gentle” kind of woman who’d want him to be sweet and patient in the bedroom, to make love to her. Roman is neither and none of those things.

He fucks, and he fucks hard. Subsequently, his wife should be cut from the same cloth. 

“Just….think about it, my Tribal Chief, hmmm?” Paul’s voice is tentative, laced with that tone that indicates he believes the decision should be made sooner rather than later. Granted, he values his life and standing in the bloodline, so he opts to not implement time constraints. 

A wise decision. 

“The scars.” Roman counted eight of them total, the one most pronounced on her face, slashing across her right eye and into the top of her cheek. The type of scar that’s embedded into the skin. And the soul. With a few of his own, it’s one of the first things he noticed. “What’s the story there?”

Paul quickly pulls out the portfolio from his briefcase, hurriedly flipping through papers when he settles on the one he’s looking for. “Ahhh….” Paul clears his throat, a telltale sign that’s he uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. “2005. It was a hit. Her mother was killed in the attack. Knifing. Solana survived, clearly.”

Roman turns his attention from the passing cars to look at his Wise Man. For the first time since this whole interview process began, Roman is intrigued. “She was there?” Paul confirms as such and says something else, but Roman’s attention is out the window again, haphazardly watching the flow of traffic, assimilating and accommodating this new piece of information. 

This may be the one and only thing he can understand about this girl. Something…something he can relate to. 

Survival

One doesn’t go through something like that without coming out on top or letting it bury you. Unlike him, she’d clearly gone the latter route. Granted, just making it out alive, physically, he knows better than anyone, is a feat in and of itself.

“Give me her file.”

—-------------

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I didn’t write yesterday. It was…..a day.

I’m not even sure where to begin, because I’m not sure what to even feel at this moment to be honest. Dad is trying to marry me off to a mafia head, which would be fine, except….except that head is Roman Reigns. He’s….he’s a monster, mama. Has no soul. Not that many men in this life do, but there’s something about him that’s even more terrifying than the others. To make matters worse, dad had Dr. Boyd lie in my medical report. She wrote that I’m still a virgin, I guess something about my hymen still being intact. Mama, that’s a lie. There’s no way that’s possible. 

Not.....with what they did to me.

I’m trying hard not to panic, because there’s no way Roman would go for me. He’s a monster, yes, but even Lucifer was God’s most beautiful angel. He’s a very handsome man. He would never want someone like me.

I don’t know any man who would.

“Solana.”

Solana quickly snaps her journal closed, using the pen in her hand to mark her spot. She’s met with the gentle smile of 73–year–old Meryl Jensen, a widow who’s worked at this library for almost forty years.

Solana still remembers the first day she met Mrs. Jensen. She was 6-years-old, and her mom was looking for a certain book she’d read about in the newspaper. A book that she hoped would further and better her English speaking skills. A native of Mexico, Nina Miller taught herself English by immersing herself into American literature, film, and music. 

Similarly, Nina taught her Solana Spanish by immersing her daughter in Spanish literature, film, and music. A secret among the two as an always hostile, paranoid Xavier “banned” Nina from teaching their daughter a language he couldn’t understand.

If he couldn’t control it, it was a no-go.

But it was when Mrs. Jensen was helping Nina locate her book, Solana noticed another book sitting near a kids display. Goodnight Moon.

If Solana tries hard enough, she can still remember the warm smile her mother gave her as she allowed her to check out the book, her very first "purchase" from the library. It started a love of books, aided by Mrs. Jensen who always provided appropriate recommendations to Solana and her mom.

Not that Solana tries to think too much about memories with her mother. They’re almost always ruined and replaced with the sounds of the butcher knife slicing into her mother’s body as Nina used the last of her strength to shield and protect her daughter from the violent assault that would end up taking her life.

Solana’s smile, however, does dim and her stomach drops when she realizes that Ms. Jensen isn’t alone. 

“This girl is always writing, I swear.” It’s only when the older woman refers to her book that Solana quickly closes up her journal, shoving it to the side.

Her eyes never leave Roman though.

And his certainly aren’t leaving her, even as Mrs. Jensen places a hand on his arm, laughing at her own joke.

Mrs. Jensen then squints her eyes and leans over the counter. “Child, did you fall again?” It takes a second for recognition to dawn. She’s then hit with the memory of her father backhanding her across the room, the force sending her to the floor after the dispersion of yesterday’s meeting. A truly pale punishment compared to some of his prior assaults. “My goodness.” Mrs. Meryl laughs, shaking her head. “An everyday klutz I tell you. I can’t think of one day she hasn’t come in here without some kind of mark from her clumsiness.”

Roman’s staring directly at Solana while acknowledging the older woman’s casual observation. “Interesting.” He then darts his eyes, offering a smile that, if one didn’t know any better, could be considered genuine. But Solana does know better. She knows much better. “Could you give us a moment?”

Of course, Mrs. Jensen obliges, saying something about hushing up some boisterous high school students on the first level before it’s just Solana and Roman. 

She has a million and one questions, starting with why the hell Roman Reigns is at her job. Whatever the reason, it can’t be good. A man like him only brings about chaos and mayhem.

And death.

Swallowing and powering through the onslaught of anxiety, she starts off in an unsurprisingly soft voice, “if you’re looking for my father, he’s—”

“If I wanted your father, I would be speaking to him right now.” Roman’s interruption is dangerously calm, but Solana detects a hint of irritation. “You’re the one I want.”

Oh.

What in the world this man could want with Solana is beyond her. To make matters worse, Solana catches his gaze on her bruised cheek again. Makeup could only do much, but she's really starting to wish she went for heavier coverage. She drops her head, focusing on the denim of her jeans to avoid his burning stare. “I—umm.”

Solana’s body registers before her head does that Roman is lifting his hand to touch her. She responds accordingly, jumping back and away from the interaction. He chuckles, darkly, lowering his hand to his side. “That was some fall.”

Solana unconsciously brings her hand to hover over her cheek. “I’m—clumsy.”

“No, you’re not.” It takes a second for Solana to register his blunt comment and another for her to digest that he’s calling her bluff. “But, you are a terrible liar.”

He’s not wrong on either note, but she’s unsure just how to respond. “What—what do you want from me?”

Roman straightens up, and just the sheer size of him makes her swallow in fear. He’s a beast of a man, more beast though than anything else. “To make sure you understand what this is. It’s obvious Miller didn’t inform you about the meeting, and I won’t go into anything with anyone unless they’re fully aware of what they’re signing up for.”

If he’s waiting for Solana to acknowledge the first part of his reason for showing up at her job, he does a poor job waiting because he goes straight into his disclaimer. 

“I have no desire to be with you or any other woman for anything more than a sexual release. We’ll ensure my bloodline continues, but that’s it. Financially, you’ll want for nothing, and I can assure you, your clumsiness won’t be an issue. But, I will never love you, never see you as anything more than a business arrangement because that’s what you are.” He’s studying her facial expressions, reading all of the emotions oscillating around. “Do you understand?”

There’s a couple of different thoughts racing through her mind at this moment, but the dominant thought is wondering just what in the hell would possess someone like him to ever even consider someone like her? He is the definition of brute strength in all areas. She is beyond broken. There can’t be anything appealing about that.

But then….maybe there is. Roman knows she will not cause him any trouble, can recognize this brokenness and sees it as an easy way to get what he needs while still having the freedom to do whatever, and whoever he wants. It’s a bit of a win-win. 

And as far as the love aspect…..

Solana learned a long time ago that all of the fairytales lied. There is no prince that rides in and saves the damsel in distress. No one to swoop in and save you from the monster. It’s either killed or be killed, and her death already occurred on August 7th, 2005.

As ironic and fucked up as it is, Solana recognizes this is the best deal she’ll ever get in her life. 

With quite literally nothing to lose, she acknowledges him.

“I understand.”

—---------

The minute Solana steps into the house, she’s immediately shoved into the freshly painted wall behind her. A strong hand is on her throat, restricting her breathing.

“What did you say to him!”

Fingers foolishly grasping at the hand suffocating her, Solana tries to speak even with knowing that it’s impossible when she can’t even breathe. This only pisses her brother off even more. He bangs her head into the wall, causing the nearby pictures to shake. “Answer me, you stupid bitch!”

“Let her go, Wes.”

Xavier’s command is followed with a delayed acquiescence. Solana falls to the floor, coughing and gasping violently. She brings her hand to the back of her head to check for any blood, but her gaze is soon on the black leather shoes her blurred version is able to make out.

Solana cries out when her father grips her hair, yanking her head back and forcing her to look at him.

“We know Reigns came to see you at your job today.”

At some point in her life, Solana would be stunned and partially disturbed this, by how her father is aware of this piece of information.  But, this is no longer that time in her life. That time when she was naive enough to think that she could ever escape this life, ever leave and never look back.

She’d tried once. Foolishly. And it landed her in the hospital for two weeks. 

Solana can still remember her father’s dry, cracked lips pressing an insincere kiss against her temple as he said in the calmest yet coldest voice. “You ever try to leave this place again, and I’ll make sure to finish the job.” 

That was the last time she ever fooled herself into believing better waited for her.

“Now, what did you say to him?”

“I—I—nothing.” It’s not a lie but not the entire truth. She didn’t say anything that should have pissed him off. Then again, with a man as temperamental as Roman, anything and everyone could piss him off. Look at her dad and brother. “What did he—”

A phone ringing possibly saves, or just delays, the next set of hits. And even better, it’s Xavier’s phone.

He pulls it out of the back pocket of his pants, eyes lighting up. With a mischievous smile, he taps the screen twice, answering, “my Tribal Chief.” Solana’s eyes widen. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Cut the bullshit, Miller.” Roman’s deep, baritone voice is powerful and authoritative, even when he’s not even in the room. “You know why I’m calling.” And before her father can further upset him, Roman jumps straight to the point. “We have a deal.”

It’s been some time since Solana has been so thoroughly surprised by something she’s heard that she briefly loses awareness of where she is. But this….this is one of those moments. 

He can’t…..he can’t have said what she thinks he just said. Her acknowledging understanding was just a formality. She didn’t think he was actually considering marrying her.

Xavier’s smile is broad, signs of a man who just got exactly what he wanted. “Wonderful. We shall start planning.”

“Two weeks. The wedding will be two weeks from today.”

The tightening in her chest has returned. Solana is certain she’s about to start hyperventilating. This….this can’t be happening. 

Xavier and Wes share a look as he stammers with a response. “Uhh, yes, of course—whatever you wa—”

“Oh, and Miller?”

Irritation flashes in Xavier’s eyes, but he shoves it back for a polite acknowledgment. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“You or your boy lay a single fucking finger on her again, and I’ll gut you both where there’s nothing left to bury.”

Solana is almost certain there’s not a single one of them that’s not taken back by Roman’s icy warning. However, she swallows when her father’s fire gaze lands on her. She knows immediately she’s in for a matching bruise on the other side of her face.

Xavier laughs quietly. “That girl has always been so clumsy. I assure you—”

“One.”

Xavier is understandably confused by Roman’s single-word response. “Pardon?”

“Everyone gets one chance to lie to me. You’ve just used yours.” For the briefest hint of a second, Solana believes she sees fear flash in her father’s eyes. “Consider yourself warned.”

The phone disconnects. 

Silence settles over the three of them, but it doesn’t last. 

“I–I don’t understand.” Solana finds her voice, unable to stay quiet in a moment that’s completely just changed the course of her life. “I–I can’t marry Roman.”

For a lot of reasons. Many reasons that she can list out and defend if given the chance.

Solana is consumed by her thoughts and pending mental breakdown, so much so that she misses when her brother stalks across the room. He throws her back up against the wall, and the minute her eyes land on the silver, she’s frozen in place.

His grin is predatory and satisfactory as he murmurs, floating the knife in front of her. “It seems you’ve finally made your existence have some type of purpose.” Solana has to close her eyes. Just seeing knives sometimes brings her back to that night, and having one pressed against her….

Wes knows exactly how agonizing that is to her, hence his favorite method of torture. 

Swallowing, she weakly protests, “you—you told them I’m a virgin.”

That’s a major reason why. Her father has made her out to be some chaste, pure woman when she’s anything but. And to lie to Roman, of all people, about something like that.

They’ve more or less signed her death decree.

“No. Dr. Boyd’s medical reports confirmed you’re still untouched, and you’ll go along with it for however long is necessary.” Xavier’s rebuttal is smooth and to the point, like he doesn’t see the issue with his actions.

He never does. 

“Don’t you understand?” Wes lazily slides the knife up and down her skin, smiling at the terror in her face. It’s his greatest motivation, witnessing the extent of her fear toward him. “We’d let Reigns and his entire bloodline fuck you if that’s what it took to get what we want.”

Solana has no shock value at his words. Wes stopped caring anything for her the minute she got their mother killed, and it’s not as if she can entirely blame him. 

Nina would still be alive if not for Solana. It’s something she accepted ages ago, an undeniable truth. 

However, she does have to ask in a pained voice, “what do you want?”

Xavier supplies, taking a hit of his cigar she didn’t realize he was holding this whole time. “We want and will have control of the bloodline.”

If not for her current situation, she’d laugh. Control of the bloodline. That’s….that’s not even a dream. That’s a delusion. Still, there’s an undertone to his voice and words that alarm her. In a quiet voice, she protests. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

Solana hisses as Wes presses the knife deeper into her throat, nicking her skin and drawing blood. “No, it isn’t, not anymore. Because we have a way in.”

And it’s with widened eyes and a constricted throat that Solana finally understands what’s happening, what they plan to have happen. 

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “No….”

Xavier answers with a cruel, wicked smile. “You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

[celaenaeiln]

Hiii, I don't really know if you made a post about this or not, but can I ask what you think of damian and dick's relationship? you have a really deep insight on the bat family's relationship, so I'm curious on how you would describe those two

Damian and Dick are probably the most important to each other in the family with the other being each other's most favorite person in the world. Dick is Damian's father, brother, mentor, and best friend. Actually it's reflective of Dick's relationship with Bruce but none of the toxic expectations and brute force of misplaced responsibilities.

Dick is loving and understanding of Damian and he's able to read him before Damian can even express his words.

For example, when the Black Lantern things open the caskets of Martha and Thomas Wayne, Dick asks Damian to help him wrap up the bodies but-

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

He's able to anticipate and take care of Damian before Damian can even tell him what he's thinking. That's the level of love and understanding Dick has of him.

Damian is insanely protective over Dick. When Deadman, Boston Brand, jumps into Dick, Damian gets super protective of his Batman.

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

Also Dick CANNOT STAND IT when someone hurts or insults Damian.

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

Honestly I think Dick loves Damian's sass. Even when he says he wants to kill people Dick's just like, "not today another day kiddo" which is just super heartwarming when you hear their banter.

Anyways, Dick and Damian have the funniest back and forth!

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #21

Damian values each and every word of Dick's.

Batman: Streets of Gotham Issue #1

While Damian respects Batman for what he created and wants to be appreciated as his son, Damian just loves Dick for who he is. I know some people think Bruce may be jealous of Dick and Damian's relationship, and while it's possible, I think Bruce is just super proud and happy. His greatest joy in life comes from Dick succeeding and he would have found it weird if Dick and Damian didn't get along because he inherently believes that Dick is the peak of goodness.

What I love most about Dick and Damian is that Damian is always shown as a loveable kid when he's with Dick. In the Batman and Robin (2011) comics with Bruce and Damian vs the Batman and Robin (2009) comics with Dick and Damian, Damian is much softer. Part of this comes from Bruce's refusal to treat him as robin originally, but their interactions are more stilted than the easy-going and funny ones between Damian and his big brother. But here's where it gets interesting. The writers write the characters in terms of how they would react to each other. What perception they would have of each other. So subconsciously the writers are creating the characters based on how they look at each other - meaning, Dick only sees Damian's good sides and finds his darker ones humorous whereas Bruce sees more of Damian's darker sides and has to rework himself to acknowledge Damian's growth.

I find that so fascinating how a character's personality in accordance with their relationships feeds back into the writer's writing rather than the writer influencing the relationships.

The most Dick has said about Damian willing to kill criminals is-

Batman: Streets of Gotham Issue #3

Another reason why Damian values Dick aside from being on the receiving end of his unconditional love is that Dick treats Damian like an equal. Dick doesn't command Damian to stay at his side at all times, he send Damian to do one task while he finishes up the other half. This indicates the amount of trust and faith he has in Robin's abilities and Damian in turn respects that.

Something that needs to be brought to attention is that just as much as Dick stops Damian from killing people, he is also his number one aiding and abetting partner.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #1

I LOVE THE MEAN LITTLE GRIN ON HIS FACE!!

My favorite part is Dick makes time for Damian just to have fun. He's a mentor and a father, but he's also the best brother someone could ask for.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #4

Honestly Gotham War Issue #138 was so confusing to me because there's just no way Damian would pander mindlessly to receive Bruce's acceptance. He literally broke from Batman to become his own person - he ran away - and suddenly he's back and begging for Bruce's love?? Even fighting over Dick is fine but the lack of connection between them?

Damian is single handedly the most important person in the world to Dick.

Damian is Dick's son.

Robin (2021) Issue #5

I find their relationship special because this is the only in his entire time life that Dick has ever given away a family momento of his own volition first. His parents and his background mean the utmost to him; he cradles the memories with longing and love. But inspite all this, he's giving away the last piece of family history. No, giving away isn't the right word. He's passing down his legacy. Damian is his son, he's literally inheriting the Grayson legacy in the way that only Dick can give. Bruce gave the kids Dick's mantle but he cannot give any of them Dick's history but Dick gave that to Damian. That's beautiful.

He straight up says it too

Nighwing (2016) Issue #20

"When your dad came back, there was a moment I thought it would be better for you if you stayed with me. As my partner. As my..." "Really?" "Yeah."

DC SAID DICK AND DAMIAN FATHER AND SON RIGHTS AS CLOSE AS THEY COULD WITHOUT TAKING AWAY BRUCE'S BLOOD CLAIM.

Damian considers Dick his father.

Nighwing (2016) Issue #18

"Finding a new life. Considering a child to replace me. I don't know what I will be...alone. I need you here, Richard."

"Considering a child to replace me. "

Damian is heartbroken at the idea that Dick will have a kid and move on.

He loves Dick so much he goes all the way to Bludhaven just because he loves and misses him after Bruce took over as Batman.

Nighwing (2016) Issue #20

Batman Incorporated (2012) Issue #8

"Are you with me Nightwing? The odds are completely against us."

"When did we ever let something like that get in the way? Robin the boy wonder, Damian."

Batman Incorporated (2012) Issue #8

"So far I'd say you've been my favorite partner. We were the best, Richard. Not matter what anyone thinks."

Robin (2021) Issue #5

Nightwing (2016) Issue #20

The world can stand against Damian but Dick will always be on his side.

Which is a problem in recent DC works because

Dick & Damian:

og panels Batman & Robin (2009) Issue #17

[astrologanize]

pick a card : what can you do to ensure your blessings?❂

*please take a moment to take a deep breath and choose the image you are most drawn towards*

———-for pile 1 ⊹

do you ever feel like a plastic bag-...no, nvm, but do you ever feel like you've been typecasted? like you have been pigeonholed into being something for so long and now you're just attached to this identity a lil too much? cuz i'm seeing someone who is living as though they're an elderly person who is too set in their ways. you are the classic case of your ego blocking your blessings!

the only way for you to ensure your blessings is to start paying closer attention & recognizing the uninspired patterns of behavior you possess because there is too much ego and too much stagnancy. you can experience the life you desire if you rework your expectations and realize that what you've been accepting as your life is really a path that requires minimal motivation from you - there is no zest! no lust for life! if you are dealing with any sort of depression or low mood i can understand the lack of motivation but i'm afraid you have to actively participate in your life in order for it to change.

once you begin to rework your expectations and become an active participant in your life you will be amazed by all that you attract. you could go from being a homebody to the life of the party, you could start attracting a bunch of different people, you could start attracting a lot of attention, especially romantic attention, and you'll finally start feeling free and able to see all the choices you have for yourself and your life. there are joyous times waiting for you! stop settling for the sake of ego, set aside your pride and choose life.

———-for pile 2 ⊹

if you know better then do better. although i am seeing you open to the world, it is not in a way that is conducive to attracting what you truly desire for yourself. you're someone who seems to be winging your way through life but you're not necessarily taking chances or risks, at least none that are major or worth much. it's kind of reminding me of 'good will hunting'...like you're this person who does have strong capabilities but you're not believing such or doing anything with them.

in order for you to ensure your blessings you need to start shaping yourself to be a well-defined person who understands their capabilities and decides to do something with them. time to work on your ability to be decisive! i do not think it will be a smooth ride for you in doing so because you will run into some temporary problems as you make the transition but you will finally be doing something different with your life.

an annoying adjustment period is standing between you and your blessings! but the blessings are lovely; your connections with others will surely improve as you come more into your own as a well-defined person and you're able to show up in the connections as such - you'll be receptive to them and they'll be receptive to you because you will have an improved relationship with boundaries. 'you're okay' wanted to come through for you <3 take some deep breaths and know that you are more capable than you think you are. also it's coming through that you guys should take more photos! whether that's of yourselves or with others or of your life.

———-for pile 3 ⊹

lol y'all are giving baby energy...if you're under the age of 22 then you being childish makes sense but if you're over the age of 22 then it's giving adultchild. you guys are killing the mood ngl, i'm seeing that you have the tendency to be pessimistic, creatures of habit, and lazy. no bueno. it's reminding me of water placements that refuse to get their shit together.

in order for you to ensure your blessings you need to stop wallowing in your emotions and allowing your emotions to control you, therapy may be a good option for you but ultimately you need to start learning how to properly share & confide your emotions. this does involve you also learning how to regulate your emotions and recognizing what you are actually feeling instead of it being an endless cluster of emotions and moods. sorry but ya gotta build some structure in your life!

this will be a tedious process because you're going to have to dish out some tough truths to yourself and point the finger to the mirror so you can get a grip on your life. how can the blessings come when you're choosing to stay under all your perceived misfortunes?

———-for pile 4 ⊹

i fear you are missing the fruits of life by focusing too heavily on your own ambitions. it's not a bad thing that you are someone who has pursuits of your own that you want to follow but when its to the point of neglecting connectivity with others then it is a problem. you get so caught up in thinking that life is going to pass you by & that you need to do all these things in order to attain happiness or a sense of achievement/fulfillment that you end up living a life based in fear & bulldozing your way through life.

in order for you to ensure your blessings you need to calm down and breathe and trust that good things are happening instead of getting in your extreme existential moods that cause nothing but issues and stress and create blockage. your existential crisis for your life is making you miss out on the people around you and chances to connect on a deeper level because you're so fixated on what you think you should/need to be doing for yourself.

taking a step back from your own vortex and quelling these fears will help you to become present in your life. you will be able to have heart to hearts with people, conversations that give you the chance to improve and further the emotional intimacy in your life. life will stop feeling like an uphill battle and you will no longer be chasing fulfillment but instead actually embracing it.

———-for pile 5 ⊹

you have resigned yourself to a supposed fate that is not meant for you. either you are living your life not on your terms & enduring things that truly do not resonate with you and/or you are hung up on what you thought your life would be like & won't stop beating that dead horse. it's seeming like you're a glutton for punishment at times and choose to dwell on shoulda woulda coulda's.

in order for you to ensure your blessings you gotta do some soul searching to figure out what actually does resonate with you because once you know that, whatever you put your mind to...you will be able to attain it with far greater ease than you know. start journaling, writing affirmations, writing down manifestations, the power of the mind and tongue is palpable for you. it's time to utilize your wits, speak your mind, express your thoughts! there is too much you are lamenting and not enough creation happening, which only furthers the feeling of you being stuck.

in doing this, you will be giving up something in your life...whether it be a path you're going down or a mindset that is not serving you, whatever it is...it will be a relief for you to no longer persist with something that has offered little to no benefit for you. a new realm will begin to form as you figure out your way of truth, no more shall you be a sitting duck refusing to surrender to the beautiful waves of life. believe in the life that is and is to come!!!!!!

———-for pile 6 ⊹

suffer in silence type, perhaps? i'm seeing that you have the tendency to have a major guard up, you stick to what you know, you hold yourself back due to your own fears, and the crown is befitting because you do feel the need to hold your head high. unfortunately this does not allow for energy to flow to you though!

in order for you to ensure your blessings you need to chip away at the walls you've built and start allowing yourself a bit of vulnerability. keeping your feelings to yourself and suffering in silence is creating blockages in many areas of your life because you're living from a place of fear and not honoring sentience. you cannot do everything on your own and there is no reward in trying to. it's time to ask & accept the help of others because you must learn to trust in others and be open to leaving the confinement of your own walls. be a lil helpless, as a treat. it's a wonderful feeling to give momentary reprieve by leaning on another, and it also gives the other person the opportunity to tap into their own humanity by assisting a fellow human.

you trying so hard to stand on your own is only making you shakier! if you allow for vulnerability you will begin to gather your bearings and life will be able to flow for you. even though you will be feeling not as independent as you were of course, your sense of security will drastically improve and you will start to be okay with the bouts of feeling unassured in yourself instead of forcing yourself to always be standing upright (which only leads to instability eventually).

[physalian]

“How do I know if my story needs work or if I’m just being hard on myself?”

As I sit here accepting the fact that at 70k words into Eternal Night’s sequel while waiting for my editor for Eternal Night itself, that I have made an error in my plot.

Disclaimer: This is not universal and the writing experience is incredibly diverse. Figuring this out also takes some time and building up your self-confidence as an author so you can learn to separate “this is awful (when it’s not)” and “this is ok (but it can be better)” and “this isn’t working (but it is salvageable).”

—

When I wrote my first novel (unpublished, sadly), years ago, I would receive feedback all over the chapters and physically have to open other windows to block off parts of the screen on my laptop to slow-drip the feedback because I couldn’t handle constructive criticism all at once. I had my betas color-code their commentary so I could see before I read any of it that it wasn’t all negative. It took me thrice as long as it does today to get through a beta’s feedback because I got so nervous and anxious about what they would say.

The main thing I learned was this: They’re usually right, when it’s not just being mean (and even then, it’s rarely flat out mean), and that whatever criticisms they have of my characters and plot choices is not criticism of myself.

It did take time.

But now I can get feedback from betas and even when I hear “I’d DNF this shit right now unless you delete this,” I take a step back, examine if this one little detail is really that important, and fix it. No emotional turmoil and panic attack needed. I can also hear “I didn’t like it” without heartbreak. Can’t please everyone.

The only time I freak out is when I'm told "this won't need massive edits" followed up by, in the manuscript, "I'd DNF this shit right now". Which happened. And did not, in fact, require a massive rewrite to fix.

So.

What might be some issues with your story and why it “isn’t working”.

1. Your protagonist is not active enough in the story

You’ve picked your protagonist, but it’s every other character that has more to do, more to say, more choices to make, and they’re just along for the ride, yet you are now anchored to this character’s story because they’re the protagonist. You can either swap focus characters, or rework your story to give them more agency. Figure out why this character, above any other, is your hero.

2. Your pacing is too slow

Even if you have a “lazy river” style story where the vibes and marinating in the world is more important than a breakneck plot, slow pacing isn’t just “how fast the story moves” it’s “how clearly is the story told,” meaning if you divert the story to a side quest, or spend too long on something that sure is fluffy or romantic or funny, but it adds nothing to the characters because it’s redundant, doesn’t advance the plot, doesn’t give us more about the world that actually matters to the themes, then you may have lost focus of the story and should consider deleting it, or editing important elements into the scenes so they can pull double-duty and serve a more active purpose.

3. You’ve lost the main argument of your narrative

Sometimes even the best of outlines and the clearest plans derail. Characters don’t cooperate and while we see where it goes, we end up getting hung up on how this one really cool scene or argument or one-liner just has to be in the story, without realizing that doing so sacrifices what you set out to accomplish. Personally I think sticking to your outline with biblical determination doesn’t allow for new ideas during the writing process, but if you find yourself down the line of “how did we get here, this isn’t what I wanted” you can always save the scenes in another document to reuse later, in this WIP or another in the future.

4. You’re spending too long on one element

Even if the thing started out really cool, whether it’s a rich fantasy pit stop for your characters or a conversation two characters must have, sometimes scenes and ideas extend long past their prime. You might have characters stuck in one location for 2 or 3 chapters longer than necessary trying to make it perfect or stuff in all these details or make it overcomplicated, when the rest of the story sits impatiently on the sidelines for them to move on. Figure out the most important reasons for this element to exist, take a step back, and whittle away until the fat is cut.

5. You’ve given a side character too much screentime

New characters are fun and exciting! But they can take over the story when they’re not meant to, robbing agency from your core characters to leave them sitting with nothing to do while the new guy handles everything. You might end up having to drag your core characters along behind them, tossing them lines of dialogue and side tasks to do because you ran out of plot to delegate with one character hogging it all (which is the issue I ran into with the above mentioned WIP). Not talking about a new villain or a new love interest, I mean a supporting character who is supposed to support the main characters.

—

As for figuring out the difference between “this is awful and I’m a bad writer” and “this element isn’t working” try pretending the book was written by somebody else and you’re giving them constructive criticism.

If you can come up with a reason for why it’s not working that doesn’t insult the writer, it’s probably the latter. As in, “This element isn’t working… because it’s gone on too long and the conversation has become cyclical and tiring.” Not “this element isn’t working because it’s bad.”

Why is it bad?

“This conversation is awkward because…. There’s not enough movement between characters and the dialogue is really stiff.”

“This fight scene is bad because….I don’t have enough dynamic action, enough juicy verbs, or full use of the stage I’ve set.”

“This romantic scene is bad because…. It’s taking place at the wrong time in the story. I want to keep it, but this character isn’t ready for it yet, and the vibe is all wrong now because they’re out-of-character.”

“This argument is bad because…. It didn’t have proper build-up and the sudden shouting match is not reflective of their characters. They’re too angry, and it got out of hand quickly. Or I’m not conveying the root of their aggression.”

—

There aren’t very many bad ideas, just bad execution. “Only rational people can think they’re crazy. Crazy people think they’re sane,” applies to writing, too.

I just read a fanfic recently where, for every fight scene, I could tell action was not the writer’s strong suit. They leaned really heavily on a crutch of specific injuries for their characters, the same unusual spot getting hit over and over again, and fights that dragged on for too long being unintentionally stagnant. The rest of the fic was great, though, and while the fights weren’t the best, I understood that the author was trying, and I kept reading for the good stuff. One day they will be better.

In my experience beta reading, it’s the cocky authors who send me an unedited manuscript and tell me to be kind (because they can’t take criticism), that they know it’s perfect they just want an outside opinion (they don’t want the truth, they want what will make them feel good), that they know it’s going to make them a lot of money and everyone will love it (they haven’t dedicated proper time and effort into researching marketing, target audiences, or current trends)—these are the truly bad authors. Not just bad at writing, but bad at taking feedback, are bullies when you point out flaws in their story, and cheap, too.

The best story I have received to date was where the author didn’t preempt with a self-deprecating deluge of “it’s probably terrible you know but here it is anyway” or “this is perfect and I’m super confident you’re going to love it”.

It was something like, “This is my first book and I know it has flaws and I’m nervous but I had a lot of fun doing it”.

And yeah, it needed work, but the bones of something great were there. So give yourself some credit, yeah?