#tattoo would reflect her most obvious power

[hollowsentinel]

Fuck it.

Hebert has a Handgun: everywhere Taylor looks, she sees guns and munitions. Sometimes they are in incredibly inconvenient places. At least one time she finds a gun, it is in her backpack. At school. Where Madison can see if her gaze falls just so.

But that's not important.

What's important is how unimportant Taylor is in spite of this. The guns are a side note in her life. She is so very small in the end. She is just a speck of dust is the great cosmos of the universe. The night sky is beautiful beyond the words she loves with her mother.

Brockton Bay is bright. Boston is brighter still even in the distance. The stars? The galaxy? The universe as seen from a rooftop? It shines clearly in spite of all the reasons that would obscure it.

Clearly, Taylor is parahuman. Or she is under the effect of a parahuman power. Her vision remains sharp with or without her glasses. (She can wear sunglasses at night with no issues at all.) But what sort of cape just sees clearly? Try as she might, sharp vision is nothing so special as to challenge any of the problems in Brockton Bay.

But that is no reason not to try.

A gun on school grounds cannot stop her. It is nothing a tattoo cannot fix. It may be a pain to explain the tramp stamp, but at least it is not grounds for immediate expulsion and criminal record. Or getting gunned down by cops.

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

Author Notes: hello again my loves! Thank you for all your likes, reviews and specially your comments! I love it when you make questions and in general let me know what you think about the chapter. Thank you once more for all your support!

XII.

They say time heals all wounds, but there are some wounds that run so deep they refuse to stop bleeding.

https://youtu.be/s1tAYmMjLdY

A cold September afternoon welcomed the dying rays of the sun, the incandescent amber tones of the twilight illuminated the streets of Tokyo, ever so vibrant; full of life, people, delicious food, kaleidoscopic colors, laughter, children running…. Couples holding hands.

A tall man with a blindfold walked down a heavily transited sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and a small bag of pastries hanging off the side. Slowly, he made his way further away from the more concentric streets towards a park, he found a bench near a fountain and took a seat placing his bag right next to him.

The world remained the same and yet everything seemed to have changed, the days were now long and boring, conversations with people didn’t manage to hold his attention for long; missions were repetitive. Everything seemed… dull, opaque, flavorless, empty…

Everything, except perhaps his students who were the only sliver of hope he had left. Those kids would make it far in life, they were going to change the world and he was going to be there to help them along the way. A sad smile pulls at his peachy lips. You would have liked that. After all, the kids also enjoyed your company back in the day when you were still his. It was as if you had become their adoptive mother of sorts at some point. Your nurturing nature guided you to care for others.

A year ago when Yuuji was placed under his care and tutelage at Jujutsu High it had been hard for the boy. At the time the kid had just lost his only living relative and to top it off he also consumed the most powerful curse ever known to man kind.

He had so much responsibility on his shoulders Satoru couldn’t help but make the connection with himself when he was a kid his age. That’s how Satoru decided to take him home for dinner one night; he couldn’t have been more pleased with his decision. Of course, you adored Yuuji. His sweet snd enthusiastic personality, his polite manners and naiveté made him just endearing in your eyes.

Even Megumi, who barely spoke with his more taciturn approach asked about you. Satoru didn’t know how to answer. The dark haired boy would also come and visit your home to help you prepare some foreign delicacies you loved to cook. Sighing once more he ran his hands through his white hair.

***-Flashback-***

“So where’s Y/N-san? I haven’t seen her in a long time?” Asked Megumi right after Satoru returned from New York. It caught him by surprise

“She… she doesn’t live in Japan anymore” was all he said before changing the subject. Megumi looked at him with eyes wide open but decided not to pry.

Yeah… that probably was weird. Someone asks you about your spouse and you say they moved out of the country. It was pretty obvious what that meant.

***~End Flash Back~***

Sighing he opened the small paper bag containing his mochi, he loved his desert but lately he didn’t even have the will to indulge in sweets anymore. Satoru consumed insane amounts of sugar to stimulate his brain. The problem was that during the past year all that stimulation manifested in the form of vivid memories of you. Your voice, your smell, your presence. It was as if his brain chose to take him down the path to misery, as if to rub on his face what he could never have.

As of last week you were officially not Y/N Gojo anymore. He finally signed those blasted papers giving you your freedom and his capitulation.

It had been one of the worst days of his life.

After signing the divorce Satoru went straight to the liquor store where he found that exotic apricot liquor he liked in New York and bought a bottle. Once he made it back home he proceeded to get drunk out of his mind. The next morning he woke up by the pool, laying down on a tanning chair, wearing only a pair of boxers and hugging your wedding picture.

His head was killing him, at some point he had emptied his insides in the pool. A disgusted grimace reminded him he had to hire some help to take care of the house that was an absolute disaster, faithfully reflecting the state of its owner.

That morning, nursing a hangover he swore off alcohol for the rest of his life.

But hey! On the positive side he didn’t remember at all that night! Which means he ‘probably’ didn’t think about you (yeah right! As if he was ever not thinking about you) and how much he hated the fact you were not his Y/N Gojo anymore. You were not his wife anymore…

The memory made him want to cry like a baby. He lost the person he loved the most in his life because he had been one flaming idiot.

Despite all his efforts he could not forget you. Wherever he went, whatever he did… there you were, tormenting his waking and sleeping hours like his own personal curse.

He tried to get over you. He tried to be the asshole you knew him to be. He slept with so many women he couldn’t even count. But at the end of the night, in the throes of passion it was your face that he saw, your body that he craved, your flavor that he yearned and your name the one he called out when he climaxed.

He was absolutely fucked.

Revisiting memories of the last night he saw you he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been at the time. It took him so long to realize he had always been in love with you but Satoru, being well… himself, he didn’t want to see or admit that he had been head over heels, madly in love with you. He was a cynical bastard and that had cost him dearly. He chose to lie to himself thinking that THE Gojo Satoru was above all human weaknesses… including love. What an ignorant fucker he had been.

He wondered how you were doing and if you ever thought about him.

A frown made his handsome face look stern. Well… you were not alone anymore. Suguru also had stayed back in New York with you. After Satoru returned to Japan, Ijichi told him Geto Suguru wouldn’t be working out of Japan anymore. He had requested a transfer to the Americas.

Of course he did…

It had been one of the reasons Satoru fucked so many women. In his delusional mind he was ‘getting even’ with you for sleeping with Suguru. Not that he knew for a fact you were sleeping with him or not but… I mean….

Come on! It’s mother fucking Geto Suguru we are talking about here! 6’2 of pure sculpted muscles, tattoos and bad boy looks but with a Prince Charming complex. Yeah… Satoru was green with jealousy because he knew his former best friend was a better man for you than he ever was.

Looking down at his mochi bag he realized the small item had paid the price of his anger as he uncurled his death grip from the bag. Sighing he tossed the ruined pastry in the trash can to his left.

“Miss you….” He whispered to the wind.

———–

“I’m home!” You announced walking into your apartment. Setting you bag down as well as a couple of grocery bags “did you start dinner already?” You ask pleasantly surprised although you already knew the answer to that question since all the apartment smelled fantastic. Suguru walked out of the kitchen with a big smile wearing an apron that read ‘Kiss the Cheff’ nods “yes! I figured I would give you a hand tonight!” He answered as you walked to him to wrap your arms around his waist and give him a chaste kiss on his cheek “thank you Sugu. How was your mission?” You asked deciding to set up the table while Suguru finished dinner. “Not too bad actually, it was a special grade but nothing I couldn’t deal with” you returned a bright smile “I’m glad”

Your friendship with Suguru had slowly evolved into something else. You both spent all of your free time together. Your connection was deeper than mere sexual attraction. Suguru truly understood you, cared for you, shared your dreams and hopes. He was the type of poetic soul who would stay awake with you well into the night just to talk about the stars, the book you read that week that you loved, the new music you liked. It was wholesome.

On the more carnal side you desired Suguru and he desired you but you hadn’t taken what was going on between you two further than a few passionate make-out sessions and some cuddling.

After you last saw Satoru everything became worse before it got better. Suguru had been your rock, he had been there for the sleepless nights you spent crying. Without a word he held you in his strong arms and allowed you to let go. He knew you were deeply wounded, your emotions in disarray and your mental stability in peril. But Suguru never asked anything from you, he gave you the strength to go on. To take care of yourself, to keep going with your career. To have… hope.

It seemed like a dream to think that your life had changed so much in the span of a year. You weren’t able to recognise yourself anymore. Pain and duress molded you into someone new, better, more resilient, harder to hurt.

At this point, the only person you fully trusted was Suguru, he was always honest with you, no matter what happened or how much something hurt, he always remained true to himself and to you.

It was impossible not to love someone like him. He was the whole package.

Suguru was handsome, that was indisputable. But Geto was more than a pretty face. He was kind, truly kind! He did things out of the goodness of his heart, not because he expected anything in return. He was honest, Suguru Geto would never lie to you and THAT is what you loved the most about him.

He was patient.

He wanted you to be his but at the same time Suguru wanted you to heal, to have the chance to trust and love again, not as a means to forget about Satoru but because you wanted to choose a new path for yourself.

After diner you helped with the dishes and then settled on the couch. Suguru joined with a smile and two glasses of wine. He handed you one and sipped on the other one “what would you like to watch tonight Kitten?” He asked sitting next to you while picking a movie from the titles available on the screen of the tv.

“Anything you like! It’s your turn to pick” you said with a smile, leaning your head on his shoulder making Suguru smile. These tender displays of affection always made him feel so warm. Passing an arm around your shoulders he kissed your forehead.

You look up into his hazel eyes you blush. Suguru didn’t lose a second before he closed the space between your lips. The kiss was soft but meaningful, you didn’t hesitate to return it; wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to then climb on his lap straddling his hips.

The handsome sorcerer leans back, relaxing and running his hands slowly up and down your naked thighs covered only by the small fabric of your shorts, he strokes them softly leaving a path of warmth in the wake of his touch. Suguru deepened the kiss. His tongue delved in your mouth, slowly inviting yours to join the delicious dance. After a few minutes you pulled back, you are breathless. Your heart beats fast and the adrenaline was making you dizzy in anticipation.

Suguru looks at you, leaning his forehead against yours “I missed you” he ads before engulfing you in another passionate kiss, not even giving you the chance to reply. This time his lips are more demanding, his teeth nibbling your lower lip, requesting entrance. His tongue still tastes like the wine and you recognize his addictive flavor. Suddenly you find yourself laying on your back on the white couch, Suguru is on top of you and your legs are wrapped around his waist. Things are getting much more heated than you anticipated. Your hands roam the expanse of his back over hard muscles and warm skin covered only by the thin layer of his t-shirt. You know if you keep going this way you won’t be able to stop.

https://youtu.be/yBatuRGZAmA

A part of you doesn’t want this to end, you want to go all the way with Suguru. But… as much as you hate it, there is a tiny part of you that feels ambivalent about it. You wonder why is that you can’t just… do it!? You want Suguru! God! You desire him more than you can express with words, the growing wetness between your legs is evidence that you indeed were very much sexually attracted to him and yet your mind kept torturing you.

It was… complicated.

Your marriage with Satoru have been over longer than that piece of paper you got last week said. But erasing your feelings wasn’t something you could ever hope to do.

As much as you wanted to give yourself to Suguru it felt wrong that you were holding a part of yourself back. You wanted to give him everything, he deserved EVERYTHING of you. It wouldn’t be fair to just have sex with him when he deserved to be made love to.

You love Suguru, everyday that goes by your feelings for him grow and intensify, it was hard to even understand why would you hesitate and yet you did.

Your passionate kiss slowly becomes more tender until you are just sharing small pecks. Suguru pulls back with a little comforting smile; he felt the change in your body language, he knew what was going through your mind. You explained it to him before and he didn’t want to push you. He knew you needed to go at your own pace and he respected that.

“I’m… so-“ you starts apologetically but Suguru stops you with a little kiss “don’t… don’t apologize, I know baby…” he said reassuringly. Sealing his tender words with a kiss. When you separate again he asks “Alright little kitten, tell me… what’s it gonna be? ‘Dorian Grey’ or ‘Only Lovers Left Alive’?” Pulling you in his strong arms he cuddled with you on the couch, returning to the choices for movie you had.

You were so thankful for this man in your life “let’s go with ‘Only Lovers left Alive’”

With a last kiss he started the movie and pulled a blanket over you both.

He could wait, he would wait till the end of time. For you.

———-> Chapter 13/Part 1

Tags:

@sleepyamaya

@cloudsinthecosmos

@jxvajxy

@satoruhooraaa

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

@fiona782

@thatsharklovingwoman

@heichoustheoryofcleanliness

@syynnaaah

@shaylove418

@coldvillainess

@vampgguk

@sukuna1stwife

@tampon-earrings

@actualdeemon

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye VI — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

Coffee was not the only thing bitter this morning. An irritating three hours ago, Yoongi had been wrapping the final works of the—at least what he and everyone else in his team considered—a successful raid. Fourteen hours achingly squeezed through the exhaustion in his veins to bust this den and it was a popular one at that. Around ten dealers were arrested that night.

Only two got actual jail time. The only reason was because they both had companions with them that night under the age of eighteen and one of them was the culprit for a former models’ murder.

Other than that, the den was closed down to keep up appearances. Most of the dealers had the infamous phoenix tattoo to symbolize exactly who they were working for. However did they get enough proof to finally expose Jeon Jungkook?

Not a fucking chance.

He dragged himself into the precinct with a heavy head and tar-like coffee in his hand before slouching onto his chair. A sweet pile of files on his right which were happily ignored. Yoongi could also painfully notice that Namjoon was desperately trying not to ask him about the raid even though every twitch in his eye wanted otherwise.

Darkened and deep set eyes shot a slight glare at the younger male. “Go on.” He rasped.

Namjoon looked almost a little innocent with his huge glasses on staring at him like he was not so deathly obvious about his curiosity. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to so get it over with so you can cover for me while I take a fucking nap.” The older male patted the pile of files which was now going to the others’ responsibility solely because Yoongi had information Namjoon could not gain. If he could even call it decent information.

Clearing his throat, he leaned in closer resting his elbows on the table and forgetting whatever he was working at the computer. “What happened?” He whispered more enthusiastically now.

“Everything and nothing.” Yoongi seethed, anger burning through the unwavering heaviness of his body. “We checked all the stages. Did everything we needed to do and got more fucking eye witnesses than any task force has ever done. Except our captain decided it was the perfect time to act like a damn saint by letting most of them go on fucking technicalities.” Fingers curled up into tight fists just retelling the whole story. So much work had been placed to take this den down and for what? Sleepless nights and back to the square one?

His heart leaped a little for once hearing someone else verbalize the captains’ clear goal to ensure that Jungkook was never exposed again. “You know why they do it, right?”

The older male shook his head with a light stammer. Yoongi was the one who trained Namjoon in the field which was the only reason why he was assigned to be his partner over anyone else. He could always keep him in line. But now he worried whether there might be a dark truth laced in all his words. “We can’t get ahead of ourselves.” He muttered under his breath before taking a sip of his coffee.

Namjoon let out a small sigh of defeat glancing over at the precinct around them. It took any person with common sense to notice a few who were drowning their insides with coffee to stay awake after a failed raid. A small part almost felt relieved that others now knew the things he went through after his failed undercover mission. That knowledge something was wrong but you could not do anything about it. The curse of being part of a system which Jungkook already ruled since birth. “What can we do then?” He asked more to himself than the other.

“Yoongi…” Tapping of footsteps broke their conversation for a minute as one of the detectives, Minnie walked to their desks. “I need to talk to you. Both of you.” Her eyes flickered to the two men who stared at her in utter confusion.

The dark haired male peered at the woman through his fringe already noticing Namjoon stiffen at the sight of the detective. “What now? I’m not really in the mood for more disappointment.” Yoongi leaned back and tolerated the little glare the younger male gave him for speaking to Minnie in that manner.

“You’ll want to hear this. It’s a message from the big chair.” She muttered before turning on her heel to walk out of the building.

Namjoon immediately gave Yoongi a pleading look to go follow her, thighs bouncing in place out of his curiosity.

Yoongi kissed his teeth before averting his gaze in annoyance. “I’m too old for this shit.” He got up from the chair with his cooling coffee.

“You’re a year older than me.” His brows furrowed.

“I meant mentally.”

Out in the spring like air of the smoking zone, Minnie hugged a brown envelope as the two men walked out eying her in pure puzzle. Her nose flushed without her jacket but the nerves that built up in her body made it difficult to care. “I don’t know why they gave to me.” She shook her head. “I thought I was let off from this but—” The woman handed them the brown envelope.

Yoongis’ forehead remained permanently knitted as he accepted the envelope as Namjoon took his coffee from him carefully. He pulled out one single piece of paper. A hand-written letter.

‘I am fully aware of Mr. Jeons’ actions under the blanket of extortion and public sympathy. The raid was planned to be a publicity stunt to impress me somehow but I have been observing this world for as long as I can remember. The police force vows on survival. They want to protect their children from being taken, wives from being defiled. It’s every man and woman for themselves in front of this power. Unfortunately this means we must play the same game of deceit and secrecy to truly achieve the victory we all want.

Hence this letter to you. Gather a small team that you can rely your life on for this mission. There will be materials and sources given to you throughout the month and I suggest you find a dispassionate body whom you can trust to slither into the enemy crowds. There we shall begin the first careful steps to our goal.

Burn this letter as soon as it is read.

May God be with you.’

“Fucking Christ.” Yoongi whispered re-reading the letter ten times before finally understanding the sudden weight dropping on his head. The signature did not lie either. He had seen that so many times in recent weeks it was engraved in his mind at this point.

Minnie shook her head again, a mixture of fear and concern reflecting in her eyes. “I didn’t know who else to trust.” Gaze flickered from Yoongi and Namjoon who still were not able to formulate any kind of proper response. “I’ve already been to the rings undercover, I won’t be able to risk it. Namjoon got too close as well.”

Namjoon swallowed the small lump in his throat at the mere memory of his time deep inside the Jeon Cartel. As much as he wanted the glory of walking back to that place to make things right. It was too much risk. This time they were going against all the usual protocol that ever existed.

Only person left was one who had not truly been seen on the inside was—

“You’re shitting me.” Yoongi sighed out the words. He understood the stakes of spreading this information to far too many people. In fact even the man himself could not name anyone who could be more trustworthy than Namjoon and Minnie. Most of the precinct were hell bent on bruising their knees for the captain while some others preferred the older mayor. It was an unbreakable web of lies and unfair distribution.

“Sorry, Yoongi.” Minnie muttered.

“You did the right thing.” Namjoon quickly interjected. “Anyone else would’ve just shown this to the captain.” He nodded towards the letter.

Without another response, Yoongi pulled out his black lighter and flicked to expose the small flame. His eyes fixated on the bright shade of yellow a little dulled out from the daylight before touching the edge of the paper. He kept a hold of it until it was absolutely ensured that the erupting fire devoured every words. Throwing it in the bin, he sighed deeply when he stared at the two youngers. Whatever tired looseness his body adorned a while ago now faded away with a new anxiety. Not really anxiety but a concern. The results of their last raid did not exactly boost his self-esteem in being able to achieve a large feat. Digging his hands into his pockets, cool wind flowed through his black shirt making him shiver a little. “When do they want us to start?”

Minnie looked around for a moment; more a sign of precaution but a lot of the precinct would be stuck inside the building or on patrol. “There is an inside source who’s been working with the mayor for a few years now and they say that he’d be able to get you a pathway into the cartel.” She rubbed her arms to give herself some type of warmth from the air that only seemed get colder.

“What kind of a source?” Yoongi squinted his eyes. The mayor was not wrong in saying they were a regular in Jeons’ exposure to the public since they already had a solid source.

“I couldn’t get everything but you need to cut any outside ties this month onwards.”

He scoffed with a smile. “It’s cute you think I have other ties.”

-

A month had gone by before Belle could even take a few breaths. During work hours, it was easy to forget her personal life for several hours and just focus on seams linking with colours, blending into an assortment of something beautiful. Somehow the more perfect her works were the more she felt in control of the world around her.

Boyoung came in and out of the boutique to give her updates on the things that could be done about the cake, flowers or the general décor. Guest list had pretty much been determined by her save for Taehyung and Saito with a slightly awkward explanation of her parents’ death.

Today in the cool day Belle gazed at all the designs for the Sangria House mixed in with Spring Line. She opted to display all the Sangria House dresses towards the end during the fashion show so it could add a showstopper. The lavender one especially caught her eye already imagining Jimin wearing the get-up with some matching jeweled earrings. Dainty fingers brushed across the silk, a softened smile playing on her lips.

“Your first line.” Saitos’ voice broke her out of her little trance. “How does it feel?”

Belle looked over her shoulder to see the woman adorned in a similar lavender pant suit as she padded closer to the displays. “Terrifying.” She breathed out, the corners of her lips twitching up. “It feels like I’m jumping headfirst into cold water.” More like a vast ocean that was so deep that she might drown if she was not careful. Though she would dive into this pool any day.

“Speaking of diving headfirst.” The older woman smirked before the sound of something swishing touched Belle’s ear.

She fully turned around to see Saito hanging a covered outfit on rack before unzipping it down and pulling a pure white piece. A majestic dress bigger than any of the designs they had for the line, multiple georgette layers with slight elegant frills at the ends, a diamond encrusted waist line with a sweetheart neck. The whole piece was simple without any extra glitz and glamour aside from the waist.

“What do you think?”

Belle breathed out a chuckle, eyes not being able to tear away from the dress despite the simple look. “It’s beautiful. What’s this for?” Wide eyes searched the older womans’ expression who merely laughed at the girl.

“Well what else? It’s your wedding dress. If you want anyway.” She shrugged, her gaze now trailing down the long length before fixing the fabric a little so it displayed perfectly. “It’s a little simple I know but if Boyoung told me earlier when the wedding was going to be, I would’ve worked on it a bit more.” Saito spoke about it in such a casual manner.

Little did she realize the jolt of tears flooding in Belle’s eyes when she heard that the other designed and made this whole dress for her. “You made this for me?” She whispered, a small droplet threatening to fall down her cheek.

No one asked Saito to do so nor was she forced to make one either. But the woman did it anyway without any prize in return. She did not ask for her body or her mind as a way to repay her actions. Just an act of kindness.

“Actually I did it so you could do something for me.” She pouted a little before glancing around the boutique longingly. “I can’t have this boutique forever and I’m not exactly getting younger either.” She chuckled, patting the work table like it was her first born child. “Do you mind taking care of her? After I’m retired?”

Belle’s heart almost sank for a moment knowing there was always a catch. Except Saito once again showed she was nothing like other people in her life. Her chest felt like it lost all room for her overflowing affection. Legs rushed over and Belle said nothing but wrap her arms around the woman, squeezing a little tighter than normal. Now that her senior couldn’t look at her expression, all the tears she desperately tried to keep in now came flowing down her cheeks.

All these walls breaking down, there was one dark truth touching the tip of her tongue. The wedding dress Saito worked so hard on. All for a wedding that wasn’t even real. What Belle wouldn’t do to just blurt it all out right now and let the bleeding wounds heal for once but it can’t be done.

The world was beautiful and cruel at the same time. She never experienced that sentiment so strongly until now.

Saito giggled rubbing her back soothingly as she attempted to give her comfort while also holding a humungous white dress. “I’m not dying, sweetie.”

Belle laughed through her tears, quickly wiping them away when she pulled out of the hug. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “Marriage getting you all emotional?”

“You can say that.” One way to describe the hell she got herself into.

-

“Absolutely not.” Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male who somehow gained the audacity to disturb him in his office. Fingers stilled around the pen he was holding to sign a few hand-written letters to some associates. A warning to take caution for the coming days due to the raid in one of their biggest dens.

Taehyung scoffed lightly at the blunt response. “Why not?” He folded his arms together in front of his chest. “I spend hours in a day doing absolutely nothing. How long do you expect me just sit idly here?” The man looked and felt sicker by the day which the doctor explained was the body clearing itself out. Not really the most reassuring explanation but he knew at one point where all the sick feelings dissipated because he was properly distracted by something. Someone more like.

He dropped the pen on the table now unable to concentrate on putting the words together especially since this wasn’t exactly Word Document where it could be easily deleted. “I don’t want you in here either.” Jungkook retorted. “But you’re also not the most trusted person to be left alone right now so I’m left with no option other than no.”

“Then a guard can come with me.” Taehyung shrugged. Truth be told the man had no intention of doing what Jungkook had been wary about. Of course it’d be a lie to say there was not a gnawing feeling in his stomach as if something was missing. But right now that was not the goal.

“I suppose you expect me to pay for this outing as well, yes?” He winced.

“You are marrying my sister by force. So yeah you’re paying for both our life insurance as far as this whole fuckery is concerned.”

Jungkook cocked a brow hearing the male’s challenge. Maybe one shot to the leg would have helped him relieve any stress but he hated how much Taehyungs’ eyes resembled Belles’. Sighing in defeat, he grabbed the phone roughly and put it to his ear. “Mr. Kim…I’d like to book a private room in your house this afternoon. Sorry for the late notice.” He glanced over at the male, pressing the phone on his chest. “Who did you want?”

“Angel.”

Of course the fucker had to choose the most expensive angel in the goddamn registry. The crime lord took a deep breath to calm his fury before placing the phone to his ear, an award-winning smile on his lips. “The golden member. Angel…put it in under Kim Taehyung…yes…thank you, Seokjin.” Hanging up the phone, he merely glared at the older male. “They’ll be ready for you in the evening same time as the last one. Look presentable and for the love of god…” His glare sharpened. “…play nice.”

With a detached hum, Taehyung rushed out of the office skipping at every step to finally go outside of this place and to see the beautiful golden lady in the Sangria House.

-

Her heart jumped a little hearing that Kim Taehyung was going to visit the private room again and asked for Angel personally. She tried not to have favourite customers but truthfully the brunette had been the most comfortable to talk to. Most people would ask her questions on her talents in the bedroom or how much each service would cost. To many a golden angel was a literal cash cow for the owner so everyone grew curious as to just how much they were worth.

Months maybe years of training involved to be that perfect inhuman being who could make everyones’ dream come true if they had the right funds.

As any other work night for her anyway, Angel would pad into Seokjins’ office adorned in her signature golden dress which was soon going to be updated by a growing popular designer.

Knocking three times against the dark wood she heard the familiar voice invite her in. Clicking the door open, the girl closed the door behind her and stood in the center of the room like her normal routine. Head bowed, fingers intertwined with one another as she slowly bowed in front of him.

“I’m sure you’ve received the list for today.” Seokjin muttered still looking a few paperwork as the angel raised herself up to her perfect posture.

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” Angel nodded.

“You don’t have to call me that behind closed doors, Angel.” He sighed knowing there was no way the member would listen to him anyway. Keeping up formalities according to her had been a way to ensure she did not take her current state for granted. “There’s a special task I’m giving for your session with Mr. Kim.”

“What is it?” She gained that slight bit of comfort to look him in the eye. Not that it was abnormal but usually Angel was in more sleep appropriate clothes or none at all when they had casual conversations.

Seokjin opened one of the doors in his desk and pulled out a vial with a dark purple shaded powder inside. He swirled the little particles in front of the curious girl. “This is a powder to help Mr. Kim feel more…comfortable during his session.” His voice lowered the slightest as if he was spewing a small secret.

Angel received many unusual requests from customers but rarely from the owner himself. He was always a simple man who found solace in his business. No funny work behind the scenes ever. Except now. Brows furrowed slightly but the woman nodded nonetheless not entirely having any choice but to agree. She gently took the powder before hiding it inside her jeweled hands. “How much do I give him?”

“It’s quite a weak dose so the entire vial should do the trick.” He smiled reassuringly however Angel did not feel quite consoled. “Mix it in his tea so it’s easier to take in.”

The woman felt the vial getting heavier and heavier in her hands as the realization became clear she was about mix a strange substance in a customers’ tea. Something about it felt strange. Angel remembered spending nights inside a club where she would catch bartenders sprinkling things into girls’ drinks but she wasn’t able to say anything to stop them.

Either way the golden lady took a deep breath before giving her husband a large smile and nodded. “Of course.” Angel bowed slightly. “Is there anything else you want me to do, Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin reached out and brushed his long fingers against her softly painted skin. For a moment behind closed doors breaking some of the walls of formality so he could truly show some care for the people he watched over. “Be safe.”

-

The heaviness in her hands now seeped into her chest when she sat inside the private room awaiting Taehyung. Except the vial was still clasped in her clutch while her eyes fixated on the tea pot. Seokjin never showed malice towards anyone let alone someone who barely visited the Sangria House. Maybe it wasn’t harmful at all and the methods just seemed controversial in her own mind.

Angel never lost anything from trusting Seokjin in the past so why should this be any different?

Taking another deep breath, her bangles tinkled as she popped the cork of the vial. A light lilac steam flowed out of it when Angel tipped open the tea pot lid and sprinkled the whole substance into it. Seokjin advised her not to have but one cup to ensure she did not lose her own sense while attempting to entertain the man on whatever he needed.

Whatever he needed.

What did he need?

Their first conversation was mostly soft conversations that merely scratched the surface because they both held dark secrets that neither wanted to admit in the first meeting. At least that was why Angel suspected from the slight emptiness behind his eyes. Like he lost a part of himself once.

Maybe tonight Taehyung grew curious of something more than talking.

It was rare for her to do anything but talk, dance or play the gayageum for whoever she entertained due to the high prices for something else.

Then again Taehyung was Jeon Jungkooks’ brother-in-law. The young man could buy the entire Sangria House if he wanted as Seokjin liked to joke about sometimes.

Pulling her back from her trance in thought, the door clicked open and Angel shot up. All her jewellery and the details in her dress welcomed the familiar customer like tiny little wind chimes. Walking to the center of the room and her composure back to normal the woman bowed with the utmost elegance. “Welcome, Mr. Kim.” She grinned.

Taehyung immediately grew speechless when he walked into the private room. Despite the constant mental conversations he had in his mind that he should be calm and collected, once he saw the golden lady, his heart leaped and his stomach filled with butterflies. Really who could blame him? She literally glowed like a goddess even the sun must be in love with her.

Not that he was too. But he still grew a little obsessed at admiring her every feature.

“Would you like to sit down?” She gestured towards the space reserved for him.

The male stammered a little having mentally slap himself before giving her a nod and a friendly smile as he situated himself at the table. Angel sat next to him to ensure that the experience was as intimate as possible. Except now Taehyung felt the room was way too hot for him to tolerate.

With a slight nagging feeling in the back of her mind, Angel poured the tea for the both of them and offered one to Taehyung which he accepted.

Almost immediately he took a sip to somehow alleviate the initial awkwardness of the session. Unfortunately Taehyung ended up downing the whole drink like some kind of tequila shot.

Angel tried to suppress the light giggle that tried to pass her lips and refilled his cup again. “What did you want to do today, Mr. Kim?” She asked with the most perfect smile, fingers perched carefully on her lap.

A light warmth passed through his body as soon as the first cup settled in. Whatever anxiety he had melted slightly; enough for him to give the girl a smile without feeling like a teenage boy who had never seen a woman before. “I—I actually just wanted to talk again.” Taehyung swallowed thickly wondering how stupid it must sound coming to a place like this only to make conversation.

Belle always tried to make him feel at home but it only made him feel worse. He could see how exhausted she was working all day and night while still attempting to keep a happy smile on her face for everyone else. For him. Not to mention the wedding creeping closer, Taehyung could almost feel the weight she must have on her shoulders.

The golden lady nodded in acknowledgement, loosening her posture just the slightest to ensure more comfort. “I’ve heard the other angels talk about Mr. Jeon and your sisters’ wedding.” Her eyes widened a little. A small tinge of excitement burst inside her at the excitement of it all. “Weddings in the Jeon family have always been so regal, a lot of the juniors were talking about their own ceremonies being that way.”

Taehyungs’ heart sank a little seeing how happy the woman got with the wedding. No part of him had the courage to stop her from talking about it; the way her eyes sparkled and her smile melted into something more genuine rather than calculated. He smiled politely before taking a generous swig of his tea, once again unable to determine just how little tea was actually inside it. “What was your wedding like?” He asked watching her refill his drink at perfect timing.

Now Angel could not escape steering away from the question considering she brought up the topic. “I didn’t have a ceremony.” She smiled. “It was a legal signing and…a few witnesses.” She muttered remembering Jimins’ welcoming grin when he saw firsthand the confirmation of her freedom.

He stared at the woman noticing the little tinge of sadness in her smile. A feature eerily familiar in his younger sisters’ smiles too. Except his heart did not sink too much after he drank up the third cup. In fact nothing much happened. His body seemed to come to a full stop in feeling down to his toes almost seeming non-existent. He had to wiggle them a little to ensue himself they were still there. “Their wedding will be beautiful.” Taehyung had a bitter taste in his tongue speaking of it. “You can come. I’m sure Belle would love to have you.”

The woman stammered a little before chuckling nervously. Angel never really attended events unless Seokjin was invited so she could go as a plus one. Despite their ‘marriage’, she was still to be considered an employee and not Mrs. Kim. “I think I might be working on that day.” She spoke honestly.

“What if I took you with me?” Taehyung asked, the words slipping out of his mouth with more ease now.

Angel quickly refilled his cup again not wanting to be a sub-par hostess before politely smiling at the male again. “I can’t go to outings without my husband.” She muttered.

“Husband…” He scoffed with a smile, shaking his head. “Right…sorry.” Once again Taehyung turned to the comfort of chugging the entire cup of tea. His fingers feeling numb and his ears a little blocked but in a comforting way. Like a warm blanket around him after a walk in the cold day. “Do you ever think about running away?”

“Running away?” She searched his expression which had been growing softer and his body looked more casual.

“Yeah…” Taehyung pushed out a small chuckle. “You know, away from everything. Just…to the country side somewhere and just live there all your life with no troubles.” He threw his head back a little and closed his eyes to relish in the distant dream.

Angel giggled lightly. “What about your sister?”

“I’d take her with me.” He replied without hesitation. “She always told me about wanting to go in the mountains and sewing all her clothes from there. A secret designer hidden deep in the mountains.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the dream. Maybe there were some days where the girl wished to leave all of this behind and live somewhere no one could ever touch her again. Where she could be free. But her current life held far too many responsibilities. Seokjin protected her from a worse fate and that was something Angel could spend the rest of her life repaying him for. “It sounds wonderful.”

Taehyung drawled out a deep hum before chugging down another cup he couldn’t keep count of. At this point his head and body felt like they were floating on a fluffy cloud that kind of smelled like jasmines. While his vision was hazier than ever creating a slight glow onto Angels’ face making her look literally like her namesake. A crooked smile tugged at his lips as his eyes drooped. “You’re so beautiful.” He muttered.

Angel giggled shyly, lowering her head a little. “And you’re very handsome.” She patted the back of his hand.

“It’s just my luck…” He let out a deep sigh of defeat. “The first person I end up liking…turns out to be a married woman.” The male pouted, eyes trailing down her form not being able to hide all corners of his interest as the strange tea now flooded inside him. “If only we could just—close off the real world for a moment.” His finger seemed to gain the same loose mind and traced the back of her soft hand. “And I could show you how much I like you.”

The girl gently pulled her hand away and placed it back on her lap. Smile slowly faltering into something less genuine. “I can do whatever you want, Mr. Kim. But there are still rules.”

“What if what I want is against the rules?” Taehyung whispered, tilting his head as he searched her expression.

“Then we call security.” She chuckled nervously.

He laughed making his throat feel incredibly prickly. Shoulders shook as he coughed knocking the empty cup over accidentally which Angel quickly set up again. “It’s fine.” Taehyung raised a hand before filling up the tea cup himself albeit while shaking.

Her chest rose and fell watching him down another cup.

As soon as the liquid went down, he coughed again while pain settled in his chest. “Think I might be allergic to jasmines.” Taehyung stared at his cup with a small giggle passing his lips. “Anyway what was I saying?”

Angel had to remind herself that it was not fully Taehyung’s fault for the behavior he began to portray. Except that didn’t change the sinking feeling in her gut as the comfortable bubble they had between them now seemed to melt before her. “You were talking about what you wanted to do.” She answered in a small voice to keep her normal composure.

“You said you’d call security.” His voice grew a little raspy before he coughed again. “Does that mean holding your hand is against the rules?”

She nodded. “That rule is more applied to members like me.”

“Married members.” He traced his finger pad around the brim of the small cup. “But do you ever think about breaking the rules? Just a little.” Taehyung smirked shifting a little closer, his hand once again sliding to her part of the table. “

Angel attempted to smile again before shaking her head. “I’d rather not, Mr. Kim. Responsibilities are important to have—so we don’t get out of control.”

“Fuck responsibilities.” He scoffed leaning back. “I tried being responsible. Being the perfect son…always choose the best path, always be the better cause you are better.” Brick walls inside him turned to paper as anger now burned through it with ease. “All the while my little sister tried so hard. She’s perfect. The best person I’ve ever met and they fucking called her worthless.” Tears melted at the brim of his eyes spewing all these unsaid words. “Then they died…” Taehyung chuckled, vision growing blurry. “…leaving their daughter thinking they never loved her. Responsibility killed my family. They had the responsibility to make the perfect son and look what happened. They never taught me to live without them. Responsibility destroyed my baby sisters’ life.” He winced.

Despite the poison in his body, Taehyung still had that truth suppressed unable to word it out. Your sister is this mess because of you. Because you couldn’t be better. The heat burst through his loosened body unable to control or suppress the urge as he knocked the teapot and cup off the table with the back of his hand.

Pot shattered and cup cracked the male was overwhelmed with another coughing fit that stung his chest.

Angels’ eyes now glossy attempted to hold both her hands up to calm him down. “Taehyung, please.” She whispered. The woman dared to touch his shoulder while his head was lowered on the table. Her heart jumped when she saw the light splutter of red falling from his plump lips onto the wooden surface. Letting out a shaky sigh, she cupped both his cheeks to make him face her gaze. “Taehyung?”

His whole face looked like an utter mess, eyes reddened, cheeks stained with tears and his lips trickling with his own blood. His chest was on fire and he couldn’t help but laugh a little again, teeth stained slightly. “This is what happens when you just talk.” Taehyung growled out. “Everything becomes a fucking mess.” He winced and pushed her off of him not wanting to face her while in this state even though his whole body had no energy to truly care.

“Help!” Angel yelled and almost mere seconds passed with the door bursting open, two guards walking inside. Following them was a concerned Seokjin padding into the room to check on her first.

“Did he hurt you?” His hand hovered her cheek.

She shook her head. “He’s sick, something’s wrong.” Angels’ gaze flickered from the blood splutters on the table to the young male being carried on each side by his arm.

“It’s okay.” Seokjin caressed the top of her head. “Take him to the Jeon household immediately. I will call Mr. Jeon to ensure he’s prepared with a treatment for him.” He explained in a much calmer demeanor than Angel was in at the moment.

One of the guards acknowledged his order before Taehyung was dragged less than gently out the door leaving Angel in her pool of anxiety.

“Keep a stiff upper lip, darling.” Fingers tapped on her chin to make her meet his gaze. “We can’t lose our focus, yes?”

Angel shook her head out of habit. The woman let her heart grow too soft for a man she only conversed with twice thus far. It was too dangerous to make herself dwell on the matter when he was—as much as it ached a little so say it—just a customer. She had responsibilities whether Taehyung or even she liked it or not. So Angel merely bowed and continued to get ready for her next session.

-

Afternoon faded into evening and evening faded into night but no sign of Taehyung. Worry creeped up as the hours passed by with Belle’s thoughts only growing darker instead of more optimistic. Of course she did not stop herself from scolding Jungkook for a few minutes about letting him go out to Sangria House.

The man simply reassured her that one of his guards were present outside of the House if something were to go wrong.

Adorned in her nightgown, Belle refused to rest on her bed despite Nana attempting to convince otherwise. She paced around the room with warmth spreading through her palms from the tea cup in her hands. Fingers tapped against the sides and the worry continued to infest throughout her entire body.

Then the door downstairs opened with a thud.

Slamming the cup onto the table the woman rushed out of the bedroom down the stairs, somewhere in the back of her mind hoping to see her brother safe and sound. Unfortunately luck was not a constant in the Kim Family when she saw Jungkooks’ guards carrying Taehyung inside.

Breath caught in her throat Belle took a few quick steps closer and drops of blood staining his chin and shirt like he was punched through his teeth. “What happened?”

“People at the house said he drank something and started acting weird.” One of the guards explained crudely while they moved to Taehyung’s bedroom.

Jungkook appeared from behind them, looking far more exhausted than ever.

Belle tried to clip her tongue from any more backlash on his decision and followed suit to her brother’s bedroom.

The maids pulled over the blankets so he could be plopped onto the soft surface, causing him to grunt a little under his breath. Belle pulled off his shoes and placed them on the floor as the blanket loosely covered his body now.

“Didn’t they tell you what he drank?” She asked, pressing his hand against the male’s forehead but his skin wasn’t any more heated than normal.

“We have someone from our private med coming in tonight.” Jungkook padded into the bedroom after sending the guards out. The male had a slightly casual tone about him despite seeing the worry shaking from his future wife. Maybe he should have made more effort in feeling sorry but he knew this would happen. “He’ll be fine, baby.”

Belle refused to respond, eyes merely focusing on Taehyung who was having trouble keeping himself awake. He needed to be okay. He just had to. The wedding date slowly slithered closer now to a point where she felt like suffocating. Her brother was the only thread of hope she could hold onto to give her strength but now it just felt like they were back to square one all over again. Was this what Jungkook wanted? If Taehyung never got better than the girl would have no chance whatsoever to get away from him. She wouldn’t have any other choice but to stay here.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered every now and then seeing a blurry vision of dark hair and white clothing. For a moment he already confirmed his own death assuming maybe the figure before him was an angel. Except a few seconds he noticed Belle’s familiar features. “’m sorry…” He whispered.

She shook her head brushing his hair away from his forehead. “Don’t apologize.” The last person Belle blamed was Taehyung. He wasn’t the one who made them stay here. He wasn’t the one who made the deal nor did he agree to it on his own accord.

Minutes passed before one of the guards walked in announcing that a medical apprentice arrived to the premise to help them out. A little irritated, Jungkook told them to bring the person in. The downside of private meds was that they always had to protect their own backsides from being seen by prying eyes in mob leaders’ households. They would then send apprentices to do the job for them especially if it’s not a serious case.

Through the door walked in a raven haired male with a white shirt and some pants on looking the complete opposite of what any med should look like.

“Please don’t tell me this is your first day.” Jungkooks’ eyes judged him up and down right through his very core.

The apprentice cleared his throat as he stared down at his outfit. “It wasn’t really my shift tonight, sir. I was told this was an emergency.”

“Mi amor, this isn’t the time find out who the next top model is.” Belle retorted walking over to the entrance as she gave the apprentice a small friendly smile.

Jungkook noticed the guards’ eyes widen a little at the way she spoke to him. Not to mention the little nickname blatantly spewed in front of most of the staff.

“They said he drank something strange—”

The apprentice nodded looking over at the tanned male struggling to sleep peacefully, body jerking as he coughed. “My supervisor said it was a new drug that was sent to him for testing once. Manufacturer didn’t have a name but he called it Shade Terror…” He looked at both Jungkook and Belle. “May I?” He gestured to Taehyung.

Belle saw the apprehension in her fiancées’ expression. Granted the woman would be hesitant to let a trainee try and help her brother but she couldn’t just let him stay in pain until something else was available. Reaching out, she gently held onto his pinky and ring finger as a silent way of pleading that he let the man help Taehyung.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked.

“Yoongi…sir.” He bowed once again to enhance a vulnerable state in front of him. His face did not exactly scream ‘meek’ after all.

The young lord nodded and gestured towards Taehyung so he could start with his work. As soon Yoongi situated himself next to the bed, Jungkook turned his head to face Belle for a moment. On any other day a new face trying to do medical work under his roof would have gone through hundreds of investigations and gun to their head while they worked. So why was it Jungkook couldn’t find the courage to do the same now? Especially when Belle met his gaze and gave him a light smile to quietly thank him for agreeing.

Detaching their hands Belle walked back to the other side of the bed and watched Yoongi press his fingers against the side of Taehyungs’ neck. His way of working was definitely a lot more careful than that of a more experienced doctor but it looked far more reassuring. He placed a small wooden box on the nightstand before flicking it open and pulling out a vial filled with a pale blue milky liquid.

“We need to make him sit up.” He spoke in a slightly shy demeanor.

Belle nodded and gently pulled Taehyung up to a sited position as he leaned back against the headboard.

Her older brother whined light under his breath before lulling off to a messy sleep again.

Yoongi pulled the cork off of the vial before forcing the mans’ mouth open by pressing through his cheeks. Without a moment’s hesitation, he poured the liquid down his throat before clamping his mouth and nose shut forcing him to swallow it down.

She wanted to protest for a moment but immediately saw how Taehyung tried to resist the medicine, thrashing about on the bed until the blanket was almost off the bed.

Once the apprentice pulled away her older brother drowned into a coughing fit.

“He might vomit for a while to get the toxins out.” Yoongi spoke as he clapped the small box shut.

After a few more minutes of whining and light thrashing, Taehyung finally breathed out into a calmer state of relaxation before lulling off to sleep again.

The apprentice was about to walk out of the room before Jungkook stepped in front of him, hands pressed firmly against his chest.

“You’re staying here until we know he’s okay.” His glare shot like daggers, distrust practically oozing through his veins at the strange face.

Belle wondered a little to herself how he had so much trust issues for this apprentice but had all the confidence in the world to marry her without any knowledge of how she was. Either way for once she could relate to his suspicion. If the ‘antidote’ somehow made Taehyung worse then she’d want Yoongi in the mansion, accessible for proper punishment.

Yoongi looked over his shoulder to face the young woman who had a much kinder expression but even she grew hardened at the sign of distrust. Not that the man could truly blame her, for all they knew he could have gave the tanned man poison. So he nodded and stood back waiting for a few guards to lead him to a guest room. Weeks of training to just get enough inside information on Jungkook instead he was now literally invited into their home as a guest for the night. Granted on darker circumstances but it deemed to be a strange step forward.

-

Morning rushed in with a light warmth and Belle persisted to stay in Taehyungs’ bedroom the whole night despite everyone else’s attempt at convincing her otherwise. For a few hours she was able to travel back to a simpler time when she would snuggle into her older brothers’ bed whenever the darkness got difficult to deal with alone. Taehyung kept her in his arms all night telling her she was worth so much more than what their parents pushed on the girl.

What he didn’t truly know was that his love was strong enough to be all she needed. At some point Belle stopped longing for her parents’ validation knowing there was one amazing person already treating like she should be.

She wanted to do the same and make sure he knew in all this mess there was one person who always loved him more than anything.

Gold peeked through the curtains when the older male shifted in his position, eyes opening to a silhouette sleeping next to him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips seeing the familiar face. For a few moments, Taehyung could pretend they were a normal family again without the real world around them trying to crumble it down or tear them apart. Those few minutes were sacred until he saw the shining ring around her finger. The ring she probably never wanted but took so he could heal. Now as his smile disappeared and his eyes burned, he was painfully reminded of the sacrifice Belle was going to make in a few days.

Taking in a deep breath, Belle slowly moved herself awake widening her eyes a little before she met with Taehyungs’ gaze. “Were you watching me sleep?” She giggled tiredly.

“Just checking if you actually did that.” Taehyung smiled again.

“You look better now.”

“I feel better. Aside from the vomiting, this room stinks.” He winced not wanting to look at a soiled bin on his side of the bed.

Belle shifted to lay on her back with a relaxed sigh. Eyes flickered over to her phone for the time; only a few hours until she had to go to work. But she could risk a few minutes for this rare moment where it was just the two of them. No maids, no guards, no Jungkook. Just a brother and a sister. “What happened, Tae?” She whispered.

“It wasn’t me.” Taehyung answered simply. “Seriously, I went into Sangria House and talked to Angel and…drank jasmine tea. I don’t think I’m allergic to jasmines.”

“The private med that came in said it was the symptoms of a drug.” Belle turned her head to meet his gaze. He had tried to lie about these things before but she could tell he had no idea this would happen to him at all.

“Jungkook probably asked them to slip something in my drink.” He scoffed.

It wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing the man had done in his lifetime especially from the things Belle had seen and heard in this house.

Her silence seemed to trigger a spark inside Taehyung’s body as he searched her expression. “You’re thinking that too, aren’t you?”

Belle swallowed down her words despite how strong they wanted to be sung across her tongue. “He’s a horrible man…but he can’t be that desperate to be married…I think.” Her brows furrowed not sure of anything she spoke out.

“He was desperate enough to put a ring on a stranger.” He retorted.

She hated how closely their thoughts aligned. There were so many things wrong about this situation but if this was true then Jungkook may be worse than he lets on in front of her. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters.” A smile stretched across her slightly chapped lips.

“You matter too.” Taehyung felt that familiar choke in his throat like his grip slipped and he was forced to watch Belle fall into this abyss. “You mean so much to me. How am I supposed to feel better if you’re hurting in the process?”

Belle quickly moved her gaze to the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’m not hurting, I promise. It’s going to be okay.” She intertwined her fingers with his trying to give him some form of reassurance.

“Morning…” Jungkook walked through the door of the bedroom, now in a fresh new suit and curled hair with a glass juice in his hand. “How’re you feeling?” He asked albeit not in the most compassionate tone.

“Fine.” Taehyung muttered.

The woman shifted to sit up on the bed, straps of her nightie falling over her shoulder as she stood up. “He only drank the jasmine tea in Sangria House.” Belle spoke simply. “Is there a special recipe that we should have known about?” Her arms folded over her chest, eyes growing a little sharp pointing at Jungkook.

“Jasmines and water?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know drugs more than a lot of people. What do you think that—Shade Terror thing could’ve been?”

“I’ve never heard of it before.” Except Jungkook may have had a small clue on what exactly was mixed into Taehyungs’ tea. The question he did not know the answer to was why. True Seokjin had some less than kind methods for people who might be treating his angels improperly. Maybe Taehyung did something that he was not saying to anyone.

Somehow Jungkooks’ lack of knowledge created more suspicion than there was due between the siblings. Belle padded closer to the male who immediately caressed her forearm. “You didn’t kill the medical apprentice yes?”

“Not yet.”

She looked over her shoulder giving her older brother a small smile. “We’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

For the first time in a while, Taehyung had a more relaxed heart looking at his sister despite the man next to her making his blood boil at the same second.

Belle pulled Jungkook towards the bar gently with a deep sigh.

“There’s something else.” He broke the brief silence immediately.

“What did you and Seokjin talk about that night?” She turned to face him properly.

The curly haired male scoffed lightly, placing his glass on the table. “It was business.”

“Seokjin owns a brothel, you own a cartel. What kind of business would you two be talking about exactly?”

Jungkook had to admit to himself, the woman was more intelligent than she let on and he wondered whether that was useful or more dangerous in this particular situation. “You think I had something to do with your brothers’ problem?”

“Yes.” A deadly silence plunged into the room as the guards and maids now felt far too comfortable to be in the living room. “Now answer my question.”

The male sighed knowing there was no reason to embarrass himself by trying to lie to a woman who had already seen his true colours. “We were discussing a new drug that Seokjin wanted to distribute through our cartel. I suppose he wanted to use it on his customers as a test run.” He shrugged.

“So you knew this might happen to Taehyung?”

“Of course I didn’t know it could happen to him.”

“But you knew the testing was going on and you still let him go to the House.”

“I’m not his father, Belle, it’s not my responsibility to keep him in check.” He gestured roughly towards the room.

Belle scoffed bitterly. “This is the responsibility you got when you decided to stick your fingers into our lives.” She took a step closer. “No one asked you to do all of this. We had the money to make all of this go away.” The heat spread through her so fast, her fingers began trembling and her head grew heavy. “So don’t fucking act like this is some big inconvenience only to you.”

Their conversation broke apart and attentions turned to the raven haired male standing just a few inches away from the bar as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry…I was called.” Yoongi replied simply, pretending he didn’t hear the answer to Namjoons’ burning question about Belle and Jungkooks’ sudden relationship. Hands settled behind his back and a neutral expression plaster across his features, he waited for one of the dual powers to speak up.

Belle faded back into a soft expression before smiling at Yoongi like she had not been incredibly distressed a few seconds ago. “I wanted to say thank you. My brother is all better now.” She walked away from the counter, closer to the raven haired male. “How much do we need to pay you?”

He shook his head with a reassuring smile. “My supervisor told me not to ask for any payment—”

“But you came all this way…” She muttered.

“An invitation to the wedding perhaps.” Jungkook spoke up now, leaning on his hands against the edge of the counter. “Your supervisor could come along as a plus one.”

Yoongis’ lips parted as he met Belle’s gaze who gave him an encouraging nod. An invitation to a stupid wedding did not seem like a prize of any sort but he assumed being a guest to such a prestigious ceremony was a gift. Either way he couldn’t exactly disagree to the offer now that it was on the table so he gave them both a smile that could constitute as grateful. “Thank you so much…I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to come to the event.”

“I’m sure he will.” The other male gave him a forced smile despite being hyper aware of the eyes that were on them when Belle snapped. Everyone would remember now. The girl who walked in here being manipulated slowly grew hardened to her struggles and had every ounce of courage to fight back. It was a red flag shouting at him to pull the trigger…prevent any more problems from arising. Except he loved the anger. The fire in her eyes gave him life and vigor, he couldn’t just take it away. Whether that would be a good decision or bring his downfall was up to fate now.

-

Night fell cloudy as Boyoung entered the Jeon household just two days before her nephews’ big wedding.

Belle sat in her bedroom watching her dress getting steamed by Nana while she sent a few emails confirming the date of the Spring Line fashion show. Since Saito placed her own hand into the line, the venue and date had to be perfect enough for the most important guests to arrive during that time. The show was going in over three months but her anxiety creeped in already.

Last time the woman had a fashion show, she missed it completely on account of getting her brother to a safe place. That was one of the smaller ones though. This one would have designers from far and wide coming in just to see these designs on show, critics, celebrities and a venue so majestic Belle almost got nauseous just looking at the pictures. It was going to be the pivotal moment of her career. If this went well then orders would come in like a waterfall and her name would be solidified in the industry.

She had to force herself to take a deep breath before her whole body exploded in her heavy mixture of anxiety and excitement.

“Belle, dear.” Boyoung knocked twice before peeking through the open door. A smile immediately tugging at her lips when she saw the younger female.

She peered through her glasses before closing her laptop and placing it on her nightstand. As soon as the girl tried to get up the older woman put her hands up.

“Please sit, darling.” She giggled padding over and sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. “I need to talk to you about something important.” Boyoung placed her purse on the soft surface before pulling out a steel container. “I know you can buy your own but just for tonight.” She removed the lid to show that it was filled almost to the brim with pomegranate seeds shining a little like rubies in the light.

Belle tilted her head before chuckling softly. “What is this for?”

“Eat a lot of pomegranate seeds from now on.” Her eyes widened a little from her own excitement, placing the container in her hands with care. “It’s going to help with bearing a child.”

If the anxiety was strong before, it shot through of her head now making her entire body tremble. Belle hoped her true reaction did not seem too obvious when she forced to smile at the woman. She knew a lot of families vowed to traditional means to help bearing children but that was not what shocked.

Bearing children.

Children.

Making lives.

Bringing more innocent lives into this world.

Into this mess.

It was now more than ever Belle could relate herself to Persephone. Being given pomegranates to make her stay in the Underworld permanently. She was never going to escape this place if she had Jungkooks’ child in her belly. The woman would be bound to this world, etched on it like the phoenix tattoo on her fiancées skin.

Whether Taehyung got better or not. There would be no escaping after that.

“I’ve never seen Jungkook happier than I have now.”

Because he’s getting exactly what he wanted all along.

“You really made a difference.” Boyoung patted her cheek, eyes looking a little glossy as she grinned. “Thank you.”

Belle sighed lightly with a shaking smile still struggling on her face. “Don’t thank me. I wanted to.”

The older woman nodded glancing behind to see the gorgeous dress hanging on the large stand, chuckling. “I’ll leave you to your privacy…while you still have it.” She teased.

Once Boyoung left the room, Nana paused in her work and looked over at Belle with a worried expression. Much to her heartbreak the young girl broke into silent tears as she placed the contained on the nightstand. Placing the steamer down she padded over to her mistress and said nothing but pulled her in for an embrace. “You’ll be okay, dear. You have a strong heart.”

Then why did it feel like it was crumbling to a million pieces from too much pressure?

-

“Her older brother?” Namjoons’ voice spoke through the phone.

Yoongi shook himself slightly to fight away the cold despite the confines of the glass booth around him. “Yeah he’s been living in the Jeon mansion for a while I’m guessing. Belle also said something about her having the money. Her brother might have had a debt of some sort.” He glanced around the darkening streets spotting only a few stumbling groups passing by in a fit giggles. “Jungkook refused the money…”

“Leverage maybe? To marry Belle?”

“Yandere move.” He muttered under his breath. “Whatever’s going on, Jungkook seems a little soft for the girl.”

“That’s never good.” Though Yoongi could hear the slight bounce in Namjoons’ tone.

Soft meant weakness. A word hardly associated with Jungkook under any circumstances but now it might strike a ray of hope. “Belle’s smart though. She was able to fish out information on Seokjin making the new drug…and she wants me to stay in the mansion tonight too.”

Silence plunged between the call for a few minutes before Namjoon spoke again. “You think she’s suspicious?”

“I think she’s careful. After that whole Sangria House drama, she probably wants to keep her brother safe so having a medical apprentice seems the way to go.” He hung his head slightly irritated that these were all assumptions at this point. Yoongi thought Jungkook would be hard to read but now he had to be careful of the new queen about to be crowned in the cartel. “I know it’s not enough—”

“No, you kidding? That’s a lead. Jeon weddings are where the family is going to be most vulnerable. Meaning no executions, no drama, it’s all about the celebration.” Namjoon explained almost in a whisper which meant that the male must have still been in the precinct working. “It’s the perfect time to get on their best side.”

Yoongi nodded quickly moving to hang up before he heard Namjoon make a noise again. “What?”

“Be careful, okay?”

He smirked. “I’m always careful.”

-

Belle got herself adorned in a simple mustard body con dress with some light makeup and her hair done loosely as she walked down the stairs to the entrance of the mansion. Two guards stopped her at the front asking it was too dark for her to be out. It was a spur of the moment decision to just get out of the house on her own accord for once.

Except she knew she had to be smart about it. Going out at night when so many people knew her face and name now was risky. But she didn’t want any of the guards to be stuck to her the whole time.

“Yoongi will come with me.”

The older male barely managed spent a few minutes on his own after the short conversation in the phone booth with Namjoon. He merely walked out of his bedroom for a moment to check on Taehyung before Belle dedicated him to a night out.

“The–the medical apprentice, ma’am?” One of the guards stammered.

“He looks able-bodied and Taehyung’s crashed for the night. It’s only a couple of hours, gentlemen, I’m sure the world won’t end.” A few more minutes of jabbing a sharp expression towards the guards they eventually caved and told her the car was coming in soon.

Yoongi only had his white shirt which was re-washed surprisingly quickly by the maids so he would not smell putrid by the day. It was like living in a house of robots who just did what Jungkook asked. Except for this woman. She looked like the only person moving in real time.

Once the car was pulled in, Belle asked Yoongi to drive since she felt a little too anxious to concentrate.

“Where to?”

“Sangria House.”

Without asking any questions, Yoongi drove on with a heavily engraved memory of where the location was. The car ride itself was deeply silent making the male incredibly aware that he was completely alone with Belle. Would it be too quick to just tell her what’s going on? It didn’t seem like she had any worries defying Jungkook but that could mostly just be so she could act as a balance of power in the cartel.

Best to stay quiet, he told himself.

The car stopped in front of the establishment causing Belle to let out a deep sigh. “Could you wait here?” She asked in a soft tone now. “I’m sorry to pull you into this but I think it’s better if I took someone who wasn’t directly Jungkooks’ guard for this meeting. I promise I’ll explain your absence to him.”

When the woman gave him a reassuring smile, Yoongi felt his heart sink a little. One thing he despised about himself is how easily he could see something broken behind a persons’ eye. He would see it in the seventeen year old school girl who had to explain how her principal called her into his office every week but it was never because she was in trouble. He would see it in the convicted young man who tried to recount the events that led to him murdering his uncle. He saw it here and now. That broken nature all in a smile that meant she tried to survive something that was too much to take. Or was trying to survive. Despite the pressure of thoughts in his mind, he nodded in agreement before Belle walked out of the car.

-

“Ms. Belle!” Seokjin announced as Belle was escorted into his office by one of the white angels. Another junior angel poured them some tea in two cups before bowing and leaving the room. “Please sit.”

Swallowing down, the woman padded over to the table and carefully sat down on one of the chairs feeling a light breeze in the room. She regretted not getting a shawl of some sort but this was meant to be a quick meeting.

“Some tea?” He gestured with that same trained smile he always had for all his customers and business partners.

Belle stared at the filled up and merely smiled. “I’ve grown a little wary of tea at the moment.”

Seokjins’ lips twitched a little almost losing the calculated grin he adorned so gracefully. “I suppose that’s understandable.” He chuckled under his breath. “Though I assure you I don’t drug valued partners.” He nodded to himself. “But we’re not really talking about the tea here. What did you want to talk about?”

“Sangria House has been a pride and joy for tradition and beauty, yes? But you also want to influence the future generation which is why our partnership exists.” She leaned back on her chair. “Have we not made sufficient dresses?”

“Of course not.” He shook his head.

“Does it not look expensive enough?”

“It looks absolutely marvelous.”

“Then why is it, Mr. Kim, that you seem to need another business transaction with my future husband?” Belle tilted her head, searching his expression.

Seokjin chuckled lightly. “I am an active businessman, Ms. Belle.”

“An active businessman who tries to distribute a faulty product.” She continued simply. “I’m not an expert on drugs and do correct me on this but aren’t drugs supposed to make you feel good? At least on the first day, one should not start coughing out blood and losing their mind.”

“It still has its tweaks.” His smile slowly started fading away for a moment.

“Then fix it before you test it on the wrong people.”

“Madam, are you suggesting I stop making this business transaction with your fiancée? Wouldn’t that be unfair to Mr. Jeon? Having this discussion without his approval?”

“I think Mr. Jeon needs a little bit of unfair in his life.” Belle smiled. “All I’m asking is for you to pause any discussions or testing on this transaction until ours is finished. I’m a little possessive like that, I prefer full focus.” She scrunched her nose. “Once we’re done with the Spring Line show and all is successful, you can begin…your experimentation as you please. Does that sound fair enough?”

Silence plunged into the room as Seokjin had to collect himself for a few moments at the proposal thrown at him. “I can see why Mr. Jeon took an interest in you.” He chuckled a little nervously. “Alright…as a way to sincerely apologize for my actions, I will halt any discussions on the new product with your husband. All the focus will be on our line…Madame Belle.”

Jungkook never truly cared about the complete wellbeing for Taehyung. It was all conveniently to keep the deal alive. So if she couldn’t win with him on a personal level then maybe damaging him on a business level might just give her leverage.

Was this going to help her life with Jungkook become more pleasant? No. Not at all.

But this was her only way to take control of something again. Jungkooks’ successes in getting money from this new drug now relied on her milestone, not his power.

A few more formalities and Belle was led into one of the private rooms where she saw Jimin sitting with a bright smile waiting for her.

The lavender adorned male immediately got to his feet, bowing down until he was almost on his knees. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

It was like all the responsibilities and pressures on her shoulders immediately pulled off of her when she walked into the room. Inside these walls the woman could forget the world outside just for an hour.

Belle hated to admit that she had been visiting Jimin in secret for the past month now just after her work so it could be passed off as overtime. It was sneaky behavior and she despised stooping to such a level but she had to. Getting out of that house and being out of the boutique just for a while was exactly the time Belle needed to feel sane. Forgetting ones’ problems never solved them but she wanted the weight off. Jimin knew exactly how to do that.

Once the lavender angel slid the doors close leaving just the two of them.

All responsibilities were gone.

Just peace.

-

Eventually the fantasy hour had to finish. Belle ran her fingers through her hair as she stepped out of the establishment, rain pouring down violently in the dark night. One of the guards from the House gave her an umbrella and led her to the car where Yoongi jumped out of the car to open it for her. A silly move since now he was drenched.

“Sometimes chivalry can die, you know.” Belle chuckled a little watching the poor thing shiver as he started the car.

“Believe me, ma’am I thought the same thing as I walked out.” Yoongi couldn’t hold in a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. God, was this woman a fucking siren or something? “How was your session?”

She nodded before looking out the window at the blurry view outside. “It was nice.” The right corner of his lips twitched a little.

Yoongi hummed.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He shook his head, glad he had to fully focus on the road and shiver throughout the whole car ride.

Belle chuckled flicking the heater on and directing the vents towards him. “I just talk to them unless you’re thinking otherwise.”

“I’d look like an ass if I assumed something like that, madam.” He spoke before taking a deep breath as he felt the calming heat touch his skin.

“Please call me Belle, I sound like such an aunt when people call me madam.” She briefly held his arm creating more warmth for him.

Yoongi almost felt a little deprived when she pulled her hand away. “Belle…right.” He scoffed out a small breathy laugh.

The mustard adorned woman relaxed into the seat a little with a long sigh, her sweet smile disappearing a little. “I like talking to them…him, it’s just one person. It—it’s the only place I can really talk to someone without…feeling like something’s going to go wrong.” Her brows furrowed as she swallowed. “It might sound a little stupid.”

“No…” He jutted out his bottom lips as he shook his head. “No it’s not stupid at all.”

Belle trailed her gaze to face his expression, raven fringe hovered over his eyes but he seemed to see everything on the road with the way he was driving. “You think so?”

Yoongi shrugged. “In the world you live in…I can’t exactly antagonize you for talking to someone just to relax or feel sane at the very least.” He chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with getting help where you can.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” She muttered.

“I should probably thank you for not letting Jungkook kill me that night.” He smirked.

“Well you did dress up like an idol reject.” Belle giggled.

“Point taken.”

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >> 

[larenoz]

There Has To Be Three - Updated

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

Originally posted as part of @rnmmarchformeta but updated to reflect some new additions. Only three eps in and already enough for an update!!

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

From the very beginnings of the show, symbolism related to the number three has been present.

The most obvious example of this is the mysterious symbol seen throughout the show. We see it displayed in the town lights when the power returns after Max causes the blackout. It has recurred so often in their lives that both Max and Michael have it tattooed on their bodies.

It is initially described in terms of being a beacon. In 1.09 Songs About Texas, Max sees the symbol on the flyer for the Indigenous faith healer, Arizona. It’s here that Max learns about the way the symbol mysteriously forms near certain people, and its link to the silent woman on the reservation.

We later learn that in addition to its role as a beacon, the symbol is used as a lock. It is the Pod Squad placing their hands on their respective circle on the symbol that unlocks Mr Jones’ cell.

And again, we see the number three associated with a lock and key on the box used to house Tripp’s diary left to Patricia.

But is the power of the design intrinsic or is it what the design represents?

Does the symbol in fact represent an important cultural or biological concept for the race of aliens to which Max, Isobel, and Michael belong? Join me dear readers on my journey into the “aliens need to be in groups of three to form stable relationships and be happy” head canon.

Could it be possible that the aliens only function successfully when they form relationships, be they romantic, sexual, platonic, sibling etc when it contains three people?

We see many different groupings of people, that don’t seem to work properly until they are together or that when fractured, bad things happen.

Pod squad - Iz, Michael, Max

Science Bros - Liz, Michael, Kyle

Family - Liz, Rosa, Arturo

Family - Liz, Rosa, Kyle

Friends - Liz, Maria, Alex

Barn Crew - Nora, Louise, Roy

The Parents - Mimi, Jim, Jesse

Manes Men - Alex, Flint, Greg

In 2.05 we are given an answer by Max:

“The thing is, there has to be three. Okay. There’s always three. Until the end.”

“Cause it’s all broken without three.”

This is confirmation from canon that at least for the Pod Squad, three is the magic number.

The question then becomes was Max talking only about their specific situation or is it indicative of the wider cultural/biological alien imperative?

In terms of the Pod Squad, even though they are together physically, emotionally they are distant. The events surrounding Rosa’s death break the trust within the group and the closeness they had before that event is lost. It’s only once those secrets are out in the open and they begin to repair their relationship as a group, that they each start to heal their other relationships as individuals. Obviously, there are other events impacting their individual circumstances but the point holds.

Could this within its full cultural manifestation be that triads are the norm for the aliens? And that the 2.06 threesome is them unwittingly falling into the cultural norms of Michael’s society?

Does the threesome between Maria, Alex and Michael happen because they were already the most likely (basically people who are all outsiders in some way and therefore already breaking societal norms) to be open to unconventional relationship structures and therefore more open to acting on the drive towards a triadic group?

Originally posted by rosaortecho

Like for Kaliz, Kyle provides that balance, cause Max isn’t great at setting boundaries with Liz.

And even with Alex, Maria and Liz, their friendship was broken until they all came back together.

Even in non-romantic/sexual situations the characters tend to work better in groups of three. It isn’t until Kyle, Liz and Michael all start working together that they start making headway on healing Max and it’s only when they all contribute something equally (Liz regrowing the heart, Michael making the pacemaker and Kyle conducting the surgery) that they finally succeed.

I like that alien culture isn’t just a replication or mirror of our world. And that the differences provide a lens for us to examine our own cultural defaults. - eg monogamy (which historically hasn’t always been the default even in the West). Canon has explicitly questioned the assumption that the aliens experience sexuality in the same way as humans. Michael says in 1.11 Champagne Supernova:

“Oh, we are literally aliens, and you’re gonna hold me to some outdated binary of sexuality?”

And Isobel in 2.07 Como La Flor:

“I mean, what does an alien care about human gender constructs?”

It isn’t such a stretch to suggest that how their society structures its intimate and familial relationships is also different than humans? If aliens aren’t monosexual by default, it’s highly possible they aren’t monogamous by default either.

While allegory plays an important part in the storytelling of the show, I wish that they would also take advantage of their sci-fi setting to explore other aspects of the aliens’ culture. Use the sci-fi genre to explore how they are different as much as how they are the same as humans. The story so far has given us so many elements that could be used as a what-if starting point for exploring different possible experiences. For example, how The Expanse has shown that as humanity expands into space different distinct culture develop. In the show, we see the exploration of a polyamous Belter family that Drummer finds herself in - the #PolyamBelterFam

Realistically, we aren’t going to see this. Even though hey even went as far as having portraying a canon threesome but stopped short of fully exploring the potential of this event by giving us a fully realised polyamorous relationship.

Nevertheless, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the “three” symbolism and it’s going to be interesting to see if it gets developed further.

Update 11 Aug 2021 (Post S3 Ep 3):

So only three eps in and we already have new "There Needs To Be Three" content. Let's start with the most obvious!!

Our introduction to the home planet of the Pod Squad gives us this image of the night sky with Three Moons!! Which are sort of in the same configuration as the lock symbol?

In the dialogue of the show, Isobel actually uses the term "Triad" to describe the pod squad:

"Okay, you're right. We've all been hiding things from each other. And it has to stop.

We're not strong unless we're together. It's like you said; there has to be three. We're a triad."

(text courtesy of Saadiestuff transcripts)

In S3 Ep 3 we see Michael coming to possession of some enhanced turquoise. He ends up giving pieces to Alex, while Isobel also gets a piece. Both Michael and Alex use their pieces to boost or interact with some alien technology, while Isobel's piece enhances her empathic power.

This one is purely theoretical at this point, but what about the Lockheart Machine and Jim's Radio - is there a missing third machine to complete a machine/circuit?

[calmlftv]

falling. - c.h. blurb

description: a lil bit more angst, but this time inspired by cal’s instagram story cover a few months ago! 

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst but w a happy ending.

w/n: apparently if i listen to falling by harry styles enough i’ll write something sad. oops 

taglist: @spicycal​ @castaway-cashton​ @irwinkitten​ @n-ctarinenga​ @notinthesameguey​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @ashtonsos​ @loveroflrh​ @bestyearssos​ @treatallwithkindness​ @bestyearslftv​ @another-lonely-heart​

****

It’s been 4 days since you and Calum fought, and the radio silence was starting to become absolutely deafening. 

All you wanted was his strong arms wrapped around you, his breath on your neck as he buried his face there, the smell of his clothes enveloping you in an even bigger hug than the one he was physically giving you; all you wanted was him, his giggley laugh that usually became silent when he was really happy, your fingertips tracing his tattoos while you laid in bed together, limbs tangled around each other while he sang you a love song. You missed him desperately. 

But that night always comes back, the way his voice sounded when he snapped at you, the exhausted and annoyed frown on his face that dragged all of his beautiful features down. Your voice snapping back, alcohol on your breath as you finally told him everything that was bothering you; thinking about it now, you couldn’t remember what you were so upset about anyway. You just know it broke the most beautiful relationship you had ever been in. It has pushed you away from the love of your life. 

Now, it was 2 a.m., your eyes stinging from the tears you had let out earlier as you laid in your best friend’s bed. She had let you stay with her after the fight, giving you her bed as she slept on the couch in her living area. You were even sharing clothes; the idea of walking back into your home with Calum filled you with anxiety, knowing he would be there and knowing you would have to see him. See his face, smell his cologne and hear his voice. 

Your mind restless, you threw the covers off, dragging your hands down your face before you looked around the room. Your best friend’s electric piano was in the corner, music stacked high and random papers filled with chords for her favorite songs splayed out everywhere. Before you gave it much thought you swung your legs over the bed, padding over in your bare feet and baggy t-shirt before reaching out and pressing the power button. 

The bench was cold against your bare thighs, the cool faux leather almost calming as your hands played over the keys. You hadn’t played in so long, your hands itching to dance over the ivories as you pulled out your phone. You pulled up the only song you had been listening to these days, muscle memory kicking in as you learned all the chords in a short time. You opened your camera, facing it towards you and starting a video recording as you played. 

“I’m in my bed,” you sang, your voice a bit rusty from the years of no use. You continued despite that. 

“And you’re not here. And there’s no one to blame but my drink and my wandering hands.” 

The words of Harry Styles floated from your mouth, the music swelling and falling as you pressed forward. You lost yourself in the sounds, forgetting about the video recording and just letting the music take over. Your own voice surprised you as it quickly warmed up, your hands tense while you played and played; your best friend padded over, rubbing her eyes and smiling as she heard you in her room. She leaned against the doorway, arms folding in front of her as she quietly watched you, just enjoying the sound of your voice. 

Once the song was over you held the final chord, letting it ring out around you as you sat there. Tears fell on the keys, the overwhelming numbness taking over shortly after as you stopped the recording. Quickly you posted the first chorus and verse to your Instagram story, typing an i’m sorry on it and praying that Calum wouldn’t see it.

Your best friend quietly moved behind you as you did this, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and watching you caption the video before she silently sat with you. The two of you played and sang until the sun came up and your voices were aching, giggles escaping between songs as the two of you just fell into the music over and over again. 

As the sun came through the windows the two of you moved to bed, sharing the soft mattress together like you’ve done a million times before. You both quickly fell asleep, the lack of sleep catching up to you as your eyes fluttered closed. 

It was 3 p.m. when you woke up again, your best friend shaking you awake. 

“Y/N,” she said, patting your cheek. 

“What?” You groaned, burying yourself deeper into the covers until she grabbed your arm and shook you again. Finally getting the message you sat up, your phone being shoved into your hands as you wiped the sleep from your face. 

Opened on your screen was Calum’s Instagram page, the sight making you groan. “Why are you-” 

“Shut up and watch his story,” she said, reaching over and tapping the colorful circle around his profile photo. 

What popped up was Calum, a sad look on his face as he played his guitar in what looked like the living room. His pouty lips were pulled down at the corners, the camera a bit far and the lighting a bit dark but the circles under his puffy eyes were still obvious. The words i’m sorry too sat in a corner, small but readable to you.

His fingers picked the strings of his guitar softly until his voice followed. 

“You said you care, and you missed me too…”

Your breath caught in your throat as your actions from the night before came crashing back to you; the plead for him, the caption on your video and the caption on his. Heart swelling, you looked at your best friend, her eyes watching you as Cal’s voice swelled. 

“C’mon,” she said as the story closed, tugging you gently off the bed. She tossed some clothes at you. “Get dressed.” 

You nodded, confused but listening to her. Once you had clothes on she came back, sitting you down as she brushed out your hair and cooled your undereyes. When she was finished she pulled you up, handing you the bag you had come there with and ushering you out the door. She sat you in her car and started to drive, her plan finally dawning on you as anxiety flared up in you. 

The home you shared and created with Calum looked exactly the same; not like it should have changed at all, since you know Calum wouldn’t have done anything, but the sight of it still so perfect against your broken and nervous heart was stark. Without words you got out, bag clutched tightly in your hands as you looked at your best friend. She gestured for you to continue, her butt staying in the car as your feet carried you to the front door. 

Your key was in your bag but you opted to knock instead, a hand nervously running through your hair as you waited for the answer. 

You blinked and suddenly the door was open, Calum’s tall frame taking up the doorframe. His eyes were rimmed in red and puffy, dark circles hugging the lower lid as he looked at you. His brown eyes were darker than normal, no doubt reflecting how he felt inside. 

His eyes were wide as he looked, yours the same size as you both just took each other in. His hair was messy. 

“Hi.” You said, your voice hoarse. 

“Hi.” His voice was soft, his features lined with sadness. 

You tucked some hair behind your ear. “Can we-” 

“Yeah,” he answered, stepping aside to let you in. You waved to your best friend, her giving you a nod before heading home.

Once inside you set the bag down, turning around and burying your face in Cal’s chest. His arms immediately found their way around you, his grip tighter than it ever has been as your shoulder shook. 

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, tears already falling down your face. Calum’s chest heaved, a tear hitting the top of your head as he breathed you in. He missed how perfectly you fit against him, how much you smelled like home. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sobbed, pressing a kiss to your head before you pulled back enough to look at him. “Can we work this out? Please?” 

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks again. “I’d really like that,” you said, Calum pulling you back against his chest. He squeezed you until you were both done crying, his hand lifting your chin so he could press a kiss to your forehead. His lips found yours a moment later, his hands on your hips as he still squeezed you. 

After you both pulled away he bent down, throwing you over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. You couldn’t help but laugh, this being your favorite thing. “Calum Thomas!” 

A chuckle met your ears as he carried you upstairs. “I missed your laugh, doll. Had to hear it again.” 

You giggled, letting him carry you to bed before he covered you in kisses and cuddles.

[lovehugsandcandy]

Jump (Colt x MC, RoD)

A/N: This was a request from @shondideaira-blog of Colt/MC getting pregnant young; thank you so much for the request but this is the reason that no one should ever ask me because 1) it will take 75 years and 2) it’s probably not what you want anyways. Thank you again for requesting this, I am so sorry it took so long, and I hope you enjoy it!

Length: ~5,400 words

Rating/Warnings: R (Swearing. Unplanned pregnancy.)

Summary: Colt’s path has taken some sharp turns but somehow, it takes him to the right place anyways.

Colt Kaneko is 42.

Colt is 42, and he feels every single one of those years bearing down on him when he slouches into his desk chair. Hours spent wrenching on an import have made his back tight, and even the sultriest of massages hasn’t loosened the knot that’s lived for weeks between his shoulder blades.

He rolls his shoulders, shaking out the crick in his neck, and squints at the numbers on the screen. Right as he focuses on the first row, his cell phone blares and he reaches over, grateful for the distraction, picking up before the second ring.

“Hello.” His voice is gruff, and he stands, pacing the 15 steps to the office door.

“Hey, Pop.”

“Well?” He paces the 15 steps back. “How’d it go?” Jackson sighs on the other end, and Colt’s heart lurches. “Well?”

“I…” The tone of his voice shifts, and Colt can hear the smile breaking over his son’s face. “I got the job!.”

“I knew you could do it.”

“I mean, I still need to finish my thesis so I really need to hunker down , but… I got it. Don’t tell Mom yet, ok? I wanna call her after she’s home from work.”

Colt smiles fondly; Jackson’s studious nature definitely wasn’t from him. Colt would have bailed on a thesis faster than he bailed out of university. He wasn’t the one who fought tooth and nail to graduate university; he wasn’t the one who would write out flashcards in one hand while rocking an infant in the other. “I won’t.” 

He looks at the darkened phone screen for long moments after his son hangs up. Every single one of his 42 years has been both eternal and fleeting; he can only shake his head with a chagrined smile as he turns back to the computer.

~~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 6.

Colt is 6, but he’s not deaf and he’s not dumb, either. He knows his parents are fighting just behind the closed office door. His leg swing, clanging against the toolbox he’s perched on, and he drums anxious fingers against the metal beneath him.

He waits, watching the mechanics bustle around, watches the other people who work for his dad (they aren’t mechanics but he doesn’t know what they do but he knows enough to avoid them when they storm through the shop lugging briefcases and boxes). Every so often, he can hear raised voices, shouts from the office before the bitter tones become unintelligible. He doesn’t know what they’re fighting about, but it’s probably about him.

This weekend, he was supposed to stay with his dad but, as soon as his mom caught sight of the crowded shop floor and gleaming new sports car, she stormed right up to Pop and dragged him to the office by his wrist. His staff looked on in shock, like they couldn’t believe this tiny pipsqueak of a lady could force the great Teppei Kaneko to heel.

He wasn’t shocked at all.

People fear his dad. It’s obvious in the terror in their eyes, the way they rush to do his bidding and agree to his every suggestion. Even the mechanics who work the floor here, they stay out of Pop’s way, especially when he is angry. He’s seen his dad batter walls, slam wrenches into windshields, and, on one memorable occasion, punch someone in the jaw before he realized that Colt had crept downstairs. 

He still remembers the crunch of fist against bone.

It’s power, how his dad uses his brain and his brawn and his anger to force others to bend to his will, and Colt wants it, bad. He wants more than anything to be like his dad.

The door slams open, and his mother rushes from the office; her eyes are livid, wild, and Colt watches as she whirls on Pop again, stepping close to snarl up at him.

His mom is never scared of Pop, not even on his worst day, and, as he hops down off the toolbox and saunters to her side, he can’t hide the awe from his face. Her eyes narrow and she delivers one last barb, words so low Colt can’t hear them, but he catches the shock flitting across Pop’s face. It must have been something brutal.

“Colt, come on.” His mother gestures to him, and he frowns.

“But-”

“Colt, now.”

He bites his tongue, shooting one last wounded look at his father before following her past gleaming cars, out to the lobby. There, the receptionist sits, burly and oversized in a tiny desk chair, his one eye staring down where stubby fingers fiddle with metal, soft cloth rhythmically swiping over dark steel.

“Jesus, Rocco,” his mom growls. “Colt is right here.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Rocco looks down at him, and Colt takes a step back. The man is hardened, imposing, tattooed biceps as big as Colt’s head and eyepatch covering a crater of puckered skin that haunts his nightmares. However, as fearsome as he is in darkness, now Rocco just nods, shuffling the metal into a giant lockbox; Colt can’t see what he was cleaning before he closes the lid, clang heavy and loud in the small room. “I’ll put it away.”

His mom nods and briskly walks out the front door; Colt follows, shooting a cautious glance behind her, and he needs to hustle up the street to catch up to her.

“What was that, Ma?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did Rocco have?”

She stops, turning away from the shop window to bring a soft hand to his forehead, running her fingers through his hair affectionately. “Nothing, baby. You don’t need to worry about him.”

He studies her, and her dark eyes glow warmly. He can’t help but smile. His mom’s not scared of Pop, and she’s not scared of Rocco either.

His mom’s not scared of anything.

Maybe Colt actually wants to be like her.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 19.

Colt is 19 and his world is ending.

“What do you mean?”

“Colt, you heard me, come on.” Ellie bites her lip and stares at him, eyes imploring, and all he can think is that his life is over.

Technically, his life already is over. When his father immolated himself in front of his eyes, when the shop burned to the ground, when legacy and past and future all disappeared into raging flames that scorched his eyebrows and scorched his soul, it ended, in a blaze as hot as the anger that races through his veins.

But now he is cold, freezing, the shock chilling him to his core; when he exhales, he’s surprised that his breath comes out clear, not floating in grey tendrils through the air.

He always has a plan. Hell, he always has multiple plans, one to execute and then a few backups, and each of those plans has multiple escape routes. Fuck, half the time his backup plans have backup plans, timelines and contingencies mapped and traced in advance. He can leave nothing to chance. Nothing can be open to interruption. Every second, every step, hell, every breath happens precisely according to plan. 

But it’s hard to plan for something that, in your wildest dreams, you never, ever saw coming.

That Ellie Wheeler is standing in front of him is a shock. That she just said the three words he thinks she said is an absolute catastrophe.

“I can’t… I can’t have heard you correctly.”

“Colt! For crying out loud!” Her fingers pull through the curls surrounding her face and she looks uneasy, uncertain. Her eyes pool with tears and he would, he should close the distance and pull her into his arms, but his leaden feet won’t fucking move. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”

“How…”

She rolls her eyes. “You know how, I don’t think you need a recap.”

“But… mine?”

“Are. You. Kidding. Me?” Her eyes flash dangerously and he is reminded, for not the first time, that no one should underestimate her. Her brain and her fire attracted him to her most; to see them turn on him is disorienting in an already unsettled conversation.

“But… Logan?”

“Are you…” She trails off and it’s as if her fight dissipates into the night air, slim shoulders falling. “Colt….” She peers at him imploringly, shimmering eyes reflecting the moonlight. “I’m pregnant with your child.”

He continues to gape at her, mouth open, mind frozen, and when that continues for far too long, he shuts his jaw and stares at his feet. Somewhere in the distance, a car backfires, echoing like a shot against the concrete, and still he studies his boots, the scuff marks on his left toe, the shoelace on his right unraveling.

He doesn’t know what she wants him to say. He doesn’t know what he wants to say.

“What are you gonna…”

The fire in her eyes flares, positively scorching. “What am I gonna what…”

“Ellie, come on.” He rakes a hand through his hair; his stomach is dropping and the concrete floor underneath his feet spins. Colt makes plans; that’s what he does. It’s in his brain, his blood, but all of his quick thinking leaves him now (he imagines a toddler stumbling around the shop floor, he imagines a child being caught in the crosshairs of a rival, he imagines image after image after image and every single scenario flying through his head makes him sicker and sicker). “This… I… we can’t really…”

“We can’t really what,” she spits out.

He rocks back on his heels. “Ellie, I’m building up the crew. This isn’t exactly the time for-”

“Don’t you think this changes things?!?” Her voice cracks at the end, breaking pitch, and Colt winces. “Don’t you think this changes everything?”

He blinks at her, numbly; his plans have plans and he can see them all sliding away from him, slipping from his grasp while he stands there gaping. His plans of rebuilding the shop, brick by brick and board by board. His plans of rebuilding the crew, regaining the reputation and influence of his father and his father’s father and his father’s father’s father.

He can see all of them falling through his fingers like ash, grinding into the concrete at his feet.

She’s sniffling, tears welling and spilling over, streaks of moisture dripping down her cheeks, her jaw, skin he’s touched and caressed and kissed, now marred with sadness that he caused. “This messed up my plans too, but it’s like you don’t even think about that, it’s all about you and the crew-“

“All I fucking do is think about you!” He shouts and grimaces when her eyes widen; it seems far too close a reveal to scream raw into the night.

“If that were true, we would be together.”

“Ha. Like it’s that easy,” he scoffs. “Are you gonna stay here, build up the crew with me?”

“With a child?!?”

His eyes fall to her stomach; she looks exactly the same, but everything has changed. “With the future legacy of the Mercy Park Crew.”

“Ha. No.” She crosses her arms over her chest, chin raised. “I’m not staying, not letting that be our baby’s path, our baby’s life!”

“Then I guess you decided.”

“I guess so.” She gazes at him; her tears have dried and now something cold and hard fills her eyes instead. He shivers.

He watched her walk away before, returning to her sheltered life and her sheltered school and her sheltering father, but that hadn’t felt as final as this moment. Back then, he swore that she would realize her true path, and he was determined to build a legacy for her to return to.

But now, watching her walk away, it feels like the end-of him, of them, of every dream he had been working toward, of any legacy he wanted to leave, of every plan he wanted to run.

There was no fire here, but the wreckage was worse.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 26.

Colt is 26 so, through his 26 years of life, he has developed a well-honed understanding of what he likes and what he dislikes.

And Colt hates camping.

He’s a city person, at home in a concrete jungle; the blare of frantic car horns and the savory aroma of food trucks are comforting, familiar. He’s in his element among traffic and skyscrapers and crowds of people bustling around; his blood flows like the transit system, racing with the practiced turns of Inglewood, flying down Western until the Pacific stretches in front of him, wide blue expanse of waves roaring and roiling.

He is not at home here. The woods are too still, a grim silence that is only occasionally punctuated by a forlorn bird call. The landscape is unchanging, trees and bushes immobile and dull, and both his brain and his limbs ache to go, to move, to act.

Ellie had insisted they do this. The first time she asked, he said no, along with the second and the third. But finally, she had worn him down, and the hope and excitement radiating from her almost made it worth it.

Almost.

Because here in the silence and the stillness, his thoughts are too loud and there is nothing-no car, no motorcycle, no job, no plan-nothing to distract him from the voices screaming in his head.

All he can do is sit with the thoughts and regrets, failed plans and shitty jobs running through his head, and he pouts, leaning against a fir tree and crossing his arms.

Across the field, Ellie and Jackson don’t even notice. They are huddled together on a chair intended for one, but his knobby knees and gangly arms bend and contort so he can curl onto his mother’s lap as she tries to get a burnt marshmallow off of a stick. Jackson giggles and Colt’s breath catches. The campfire in front of them wafts smoke into the night sky, embers dancing and floating until they disappear amidst the skyline, and the flickering flame lights Ellie’s face in a warm glow.

He can’t stop staring.

He’s not blind, he knew she was attractive the second he saw her, but she’s fucking gorgeous here, completely at ease, hair undone and tendrils curling around her beaming face, campfire reflected in her brown eyes.

Apparently fire doesn’t always destroy; it can illuminate, too.

When he inhales again, the smoke from the fire mingles with pine behind him. The branches over his head move softly in the breeze.

So he sits.

And watches.

And breathes.

And when Ellie motions to him, eyes sparkling and dancing in firelight, he smiles and wipes his hands on his jeans before he stands.

It’s warm by the flame, his son splaying out next to him while he gathers his wife in his arms. 

Soon, the fire burns down to ash, red glow still peeking through the soot next to him; Ellie dozes, nudging him with a cold nose, but he only watches the fire dim and dim until there is nothing.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 19.

Colt is 19 but his fake says he’s 23, so it’s easy to slip into this dive bar and slide over to the bar for a shot of the strongest whiskey they have. He swallows it down, and it burns, caustic on his tongue and in his throat before angrily churning in his stomach.

“Another.”

The second shot goes down easier, as does the third and the fourth, and he’s debating another, head resting on an unsteady fist, elbow heavy on the grime that coats the bar top. The edges of the world are swaying and the bartender slides a bowl in front of him, free popcorn an obvious insinuation that he’s worried about Colt’s sobriety. He’s just about to ask for another drink out of spite when his phone dings. Again.

He pulls it out of his jacket pocket, two fingers unsteadily reaching in and easing it out as if it might bite him. The black case gleams in the dull bar lighting and his reflection shakes, his trembling fingers dropping it on the bar top as he stares at the blue notification light.

The liquor is starting to hit; he can feel the din of the bar recede, static in his mind growing louder, but it’s no comfort. That notification light is the reason he sped to the nearest dive, the reason he had to dull the ache with a succession of precisely poured shots in tiny glasses.

He doesn’t drink often; liquor numbs his mind, turns the world into blurry shades of grey, and he needs his mind: his focus is perpetually on the next job, the next hit, the next score. There is only time for action, movement, not feelings, and alcohol dulls his motions and brings emotions to the surface, intrusive and unbidden in the haze of this bar and his brain. 

Is he worried? Fearful? Longing, desperate amidst the solitude, and missing the one person he understands more than anything else in his life? 

Craving the one person who understood him?

He opens his phone and sighs. It’s only a text from a contact; the words sway in front of his eyes. Even though he squints, the text is unintelligible, and he needs to drop the phone on the bar, screen down.

Even though he can’t see it, he can still see the Instagram image every time he blinks, back of his eyelids taking the shape of Ellie’s smile, her arms clasped tightly over the shoulders of her college friends, stately building in the back, ivy crawling up over the bricks. And the tiny swell of her stomach, invisible to anyone else, everyone else. But he knew. He knew her body like the back of his own hands, knew every single inch, every single curve, concave and convex, head to toe, and everything in between.

She beams through the image, from his screen to his retinas, indelible and permanent; now that he has seen her, he has seen his child growing from thousands of miles away, he can’t think.

For once, Colt is unsure.

He had always made his plans and executed his plans, schemes piling up and winding down, cars delivered, reputation rebuilt, brick by brick, car by car. He could see his moves weeks in advance, opportunities unfurling in his mind like moves on an ever-shifting chessboard.

But now, all he could imagine was Ellie, alone at school, then juggling studies with an infant, then someone taking his place. 

All he could imagine was him, alone, consumed by job after job, hit after hit, eventually ending in a flaming blast.

And here, at this shitty bar, liquor clouding his mind, drumming his hands on the grainy bar top in front of him in a tense pattern that jostles the uneaten popcorn and the last drops of amber, that future was untenable, unacceptable.

All he wanted was a tiny hand nestled in his, a toddler with Ellie’s curls and his eyes digging into toolboxes and pretending to wrench on cars, a child with his drive and Ellie’s spirit upending his world in the most profound of ways.

All he wanted was her, in whatever way she would have him, wanted her under him and over him and by his side, always, their orbits paralleling each other through plans and schemes... and now a child.

And so he realizes, in this shitty bar with its shitty liquor and the world swaying around him, he knows. Regardless of his plans or his crew and his best scheming, without his input, his path had changed.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 12.

Colt is 12, and this is the farthest east he’s ever been. The drive is never-ending; they left LA two days ago and it has been miserable every second. He hadn’t muttered a word as they inched through the city traffic and left the smog in the rearview; his throat still ached from the yelling, he wasn’t even sure he had a voice left, and apparently his words meant nothing, anyway.

He didn’t even get to see Pop before they left.

And then, they had just left, fled the city, rolling through mountains and motels and endless miles upon miles of concrete, on-ramps and off-ramps and potholes infinite as they drove further and further away from everything he cared about. 

The emptiness of the farmland mocks him; he crosses his arms over his chest and glares out the window, sullen and quiet, slouching as far into the door as his limbs will let him.

His mother sighs from the driver’s seat. “Do you want to play a game? ‘I Spy’?”

“No.”

Another sigh. “Do you want to pick the radio station?”

“No.”

“Come on, Colt,” she sighs and her fingers tighten on the steering wheel. He watches the divots deepen in the leather before he petulantly shifts in the seat until he can only see the endless rows of corn beside him, endless blue above. The car is small, stifling next to the expanse of the plains, and he is even smaller, insignificant, powerless, on this dismal drive.

“Can I pick where we stop tonight?”

“Sure!” His mother brightens momentarily, and a bitter flush of victory works its way from the knot in his chest.

“Back home.”

She sighs, her most aggrieved one yet, and his victory is short-lived. They drive in silence for a minute, maybe two, miles of corn fields passing in front of his eyes. The tears prick at his eyes and he blinks them away, focusing on the sway of gold out the window.

Finally, she reaches over, slowly, tentatively, as if calming a skittish animal, patting his forearm and gliding fingertips up to his shoulder before nestling in his hair, rubbing the short strands at the back of his head in a comforting pattern reminiscent of his childhood, when her hands were tender but Pop and the shop and Gramercy Park were anything but.

“I promise you, I promise… you will understand one day.” She sounds tired, exhausted, like the drive has aged her prematurely, like the miles they are speeding by have cost her years of her life. It’s only been 20 hours of driving but, for him, it feels like he is leaving his entire life behind, all 12 years, packed into the truck of this shitty Civic, rolling across the interstate. Her next words are forceful, sure. “You’ll know what it’s to leave everything behind for someone you love, I promise you.”

He wonders what his mom left behind and stares at the fields whizzing by.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 19.

Colt is 19, so it’s been seven years since he made this drive, through Utah, Colorado. Nebraska seems like it will never end and, when he gets to the smaller states in the Midwest, he has no idea where he is, speeding past highway signs so fast that the text blurs in front of him and the only direction he can think is east, east, east.

He had called Ellie, three times in Nevada, four in Colorado, and on the chirp of her voicemail at his tenth call in Iowa, he threw his phone into the cheap motel room wallpaper, sliding against the wall until he plopped onto the floor, head in his hands next to the shattered glass and metal littering the taupe carpet. Once he finally makes it to New York, he’s exhausted, ass numb and knuckles cramping, but he still whips the bikes down the cross-streets and perpendicular angles until he slows to a growling stop in a back alley. He’s lucky he memorized the address, the high-rise dorm that served as his North Star over two thousand miles, and he glides past the loitering smokers armed with grim determination and a winning smile, through a propped emergency door and up four flights of stairs to a nondescript door, exactly the same as the seventeen he stormed by save for who was inside.

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

The rustling inside grows louder, but he’s still not prepared when the door is thrown open, all the words drafted on his interminable drive sailing from his mind when he sees her again.

Her greeting also dies on her lips when she opens the door, jaw dropping, and he uses the second of surprise to look her over. Her hair is thrown back in a sloppy ponytail secured with a felt-tip pen; while her features slide easily into a glare, he catches the exhaustion under her eyes, in the corner of her frown. She’s clad in pajamas, baggy t-shirt covering her torso, and his fingers itch to reach out to greet her and his child, but he’s lost that right; hell, he’s lost all rights.

“Ellie.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” She crosses her arms over her chest and makes no motion to slide away from the doorframe. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You? Apologize? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that in your life.”

He has to avert his eyes from the beam of her glare, laser-hot on him. “I apologize when I have something to apologize for.” Her gaze doesn’t soften and her stance doesn’t change. Fuck. “Ellie…” She raises her eyebrow. Fuck. “Ellie, I’m sorry.”

He waits.

She says nothing.

“Ellie…” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I needed to… I needed to think. I was an idiot.”

“Was?”

“Seriously?!?” He glares, anger flaring. “Are you gonna be a jerk or are you gonna listen?”

“I’m the jerk here?!?” He waits as they stare each other down, both strong-willed and head-strong and he doesn’t know if he’s ever loved her more. “Talk,” she growls

He takes a deep breath and rocks back on his heels. “You surprised me and I needed… I needed some time to think. I… I’m building up the crew and this completely changed my plans. I was focused on avoiding the cops and rebuilding and then I got…”

“Scared?”

“What?” He looks up sharply. “I’m not scared.” She stares through him for so long he fidgets before finally glancing away, abashed. “I was taken by surprise… Surprises aren’t really good in my line of work. I was shocked… and worried… and…” He trails off. The knot in his chest defies words, a tight coil of fear and uncertainty and worry, thick and throbbing.

“Colt...” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s ok. I was scared too. But it was worse when you freaked out. I...” Her arms drop, eyes falling to the floor, and what’s left of Colt’s heart crashes. “I felt alone.”

“I know what that’s like,” he mutters, eyes flickering to her torso. “But you’re not. We’re not. Not anymore.”

“Well, I knew that. But you apparently just needed a little reminder.”

He cocks his head, and when the realization hits, his shoulders drop. “You posted that picture on purpose.”

“Of course I did. Colt, I know you. I know how you are with the people you care about. With me.”

“I hate everyone.”

“You love me,” she fires back and he can’t find the strength to deny it. “I know we never talked about it but… I’m scared about a lot right now but I’m not scared about doing this with you.” She blinks wide eyes up at him and takes a deep breath. “You’re a better man than your dad ever was.”

“Not yet.” He once knew his path, could see every single step clear as day. Every move. Every steal. Every job. “But I will be. I fucking swear, I will be.” Now, the path wavers, blurring in his mind.

“Then…” The smile breaking over her face speaks of hope and contentment and love, everything he wants for himself, for his child, everything he ever wanted.  “You’re ready for a baby?”

He crosses his arms. “Are we ready? I don’t know if anyone really is. But sometimes you can’t get ready. Sometimes you just need to jump in.”

And, apparently, Colt can change his plan; now that he has a plan, a direction, a goal, there’s only one thing left to do.

She sighs, fingertips curling tight around the doorframe, but a glimmer of hope shines in her eyes. “Does this… does this mean you’re doing this with me?”

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 8.

Colt is 8, so he is just learning about acceleration and metric units of distance and the undersea ecosystem below his feet; however, he knows that the drop is long and far and dark.

“I don’t…” He peers over the edge, leaning forward as far as he dares, and pulls back when he feels slightly unsteady, as if the magnetic sway of the ocean could draw him forward into the abyss. “I don’t want to.”

“You will.” The lighter clicks and illuminates his father’s face in flame as he draws it close, taking an inhale to light the cigar, and a plume of exhale floats caustic and smoky around his face. For an instant, with the shadowed moon overhead and the flickering light in front of him, his dad looks more demon than man, smoke rising around him and eyes glowing impatiently in the darkness.

Colt swallows hard. “I can’t-“

“You will.”

“But Pop…” He hazards another look over the edge; he can make out the pale spray of the waves battering the cliff but, deeper into the Pacific, it’s only darkness, inky black, ready to swallow him whole. “I can’t see what’s down there.” His voice comes out as a whine and his face flushes; he sounds like a baby, weak and pathetic. He feels weak and pathetic.

His father slowly puffs the cigar, bud flaring in the night. He is calm, measured, certain. “Often, you know not what is before you. All you know is that you must leap.”

“What does that mean?”

His dad thunders, “It means jump, Colt!”

Colt pauses for a second, fingernails curling hard into his palm as the harsh command echoes through him. The darkness below is scary, but his father is terrifying.

He takes a deep breath.

And he jumps.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 19.

Colt is 19, and he’s standing in the doorway of a dorm in New York City and the girl he would speed and fight and kill for stands before him and he doesn’t know how their life became so messed up but he knows that there isn’t anything that would pull him from her side, from his child’s side, no path more important than the one laid out for him by a girl in pajama pants and a baggy tee.

And he jumps

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 42.

Colt is 42 and his wife is 41 and, when he collapses into bed next to her, he feels like he has both lived for centuries and was born this morning. He rolls over to slide under her arm, breathing sleepy breaths against the warmth of her skin.

She looks up from her book, eyebrow raised. “Why were you working so late?”

“Urgh, crap day.”

She sighs, closing the book so she can thread calming fingers through his hair. Gradually, the tension ebbs from his shoulders, his mind, and all he can feel is loved. “Jackson called me,” Ellie says, breaking the silence and stilling her hand.

“Did he?”

“He told me about his new job.”

Colt smiles, lips dragging against the soft curve of her breast. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s so excited.”

“I know.” His mind gets heavy, and it becomes harder to pull his eyelids open again.

“Are you sad he doesn’t want the crew or the shop?”

He glances up. “Maybe a little.” He drags his arm around her stomach to trace hazy shapes against her side.. “But this day was always gonna come; he wasn’t interested in the crew, the shop.”

“Yeah,” she hums, free arm dropping her book on the nightstand. “He was always interested in following his own path.”

“Yeah… he was...” Colt blinks. While his own path meandered and changed, wandering in and out of misbehavior, it had always wound its way back to her open arms. He watches her, settling into the sheets, curling into his arms, and her eyelashes flutter, movement slowing and finally stopping as each tiny lash lay featherlight against her cheek. 

His son always had been intent on blazing his own trail.

And just like Colt, that path would lead him just where he needed to be.

.

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[dangerous-advantage]

The Foxes and Their Superpowers:

So, this has definitely been done before BUT I just. Really like this idea. So, um. Here this is. 

Neil: Super-speed. Like, the same powers as The Flash. He’s a runner, obviously, so maybe this isn’t that original but it just fits. I fought between this and him having an INSANE healing rate, but decided I would just let him be fast as fuck. 

Andrew: Shielding powers. Both physical and mental. He is constantly shielded from others’ mental powers and can create a strong shield around himself that can withstand almost anything and reflects his mental/physical state (it’s weaker on his bad days, and when he’s injured.) If the shield gets injured from enough force, it will reflect on him (so, he’ll like. start coughing up blood or something idk.) He can also shield others with his mental shielding but it would be harder to do and have a smaller range. 

Kevin: Teleportation. I got this idea from another post like this and it really stuck with me! Kevin being able to teleport distances in seconds, yet being very unstable, meaning he can accidentally teleport himself without really meaning too. It’s just such a cool idea!

Aaron: Time Pause. Kind of like Neil's ability but only barely. Basically, he can ‘pause’ time for a moment (though he himself can’t move either) to take in the situation before jumping back into reality. He can spend as long as he wants in these pauses and, if he is touching someone else, can take them into the time pause with him. 

Matt: Item-duplication. I just think that this would be really useful to him. There’s not much else to say. 

Renee: Precognition. It’s not always very easy for her to tell, and visions can be confusing, but for the most part she just gets feelings telling her what to do or if something is going to happen. Like a gut feeling. So it’s not always very accurate, but still pretty helpful. 

Dan: Hard Light Constructs. The ability to create virtually any weapon, tool or vehicle out of hard light. I just really like the idea of somebody threatening her and she just, like. Makes a fucking sword or something out of hard light. And it’s color would be orange, too! I bet she spends lots of time practicing using all these different weapons. 

Allison: Extreme luck. The ability to increase the probability of things in your favor. It’s definitely not full proof, as she can’t just be like, “The probability of this happening will be 100% and even just upping probabilities a small amount can be very draining, but she is still pretty good at this. She’s also just pretty lucky in general. It’s how she wins all those bets.

Seth: Super-powered tattoos. Basically, being able to tattoo things on himself and then drawing power from it. So, if he tattoos flames on his body, boom! fire powers. Wings on his back? He has a set of wings! It’s actual really useful. (I debated giving this to Wymack, but I felt this fit Seth more.)

Nicky: Self-multiplication. He can create basically clones of himself that will last for a little while before fading away. They will only follow his commands and don’t have a mind of their own. Idk I just really like this idea. 

BONUS:

Wymack: Super strength. He is just,,, very strong.

Riko: Reality Warping. Can create realistic hallucinations to his victims. Makes it so he can easily manipulate them. 

Abby: The ability to heal others. Kind of obvious. 

Bee: Telepathy. The ability to read minds as well as send one-way messages to others. This would be very helpful to her in the field, but I feel like she would refrain from reading minds as much as possible so she could preserves the privacy of her patients. 

[katsukikitten]

2!

Lol here have this I have no idea what I'm doing with this. Hope yall can't tell.

You clenched your teeth, watching as the Avatar waltz through to the sitting room on his own accord. No servant attendant as he stared Zuko down.  

The Avatar looked...different from what you remembered or what had been described to you.  He had filled out some, broad muscles swept in golden colors with a heavily beaded wooden necklace with the air symbol carved into it. As if the world needed a reminder that he was the last air bender. You fight to roll your eyes as the roam over his bald head, blue tattoo vibrant in the cast of the afternoon son while his beard was as dark as rich upturned Earth. 

"So what do I owe the pleasure of having the honored Avatar as my guest?" Zuko's voice comes out gruff, golden eyes narrowed onto the bald man. 

The Avatar returns the glare, his brown eyes reminding you of frozen Earth in the darkest winter. 

The tension between the two is tangiable enough that you can taste it.  The fresh breeze being summoned and the wood starting to char beneath Zuko's feet. The Firelord begins to shift his weight for an offensive attack putting you on edge. 

The Avatar mirrors the action and both set off a powerful blast of Fire and Air. Just as you're about to move to counter attack the two men burst into a fit of laughter. 

"It's been too long, Zuko!" They step into a tight hug separating in time for tea.

"Way too long Aang." Zuko sits on one of the many cushions that lie around the room, broad hand gesturing for the Avatar to follow suit. The young servant sets the tea on the low table between them, Zuko observes the set up with a harsh glare. 

"Why are there only three cups?" A tone above a bite causing your stomach to twist. Your teeth sink into your tongue to keep your temper in check, agitated that the man never seems satisfied.

"Uh, your Highness forgive me. I am still new and I assumed you'd serve yourself and your two guests." Her voice trembles as she presses her forehead to the ground, hard enough you were sure the wooden grains would dimple her forehead. On the verge of snapping you step towards the tea more than ready to douse his arrogant flames. Nostrils flaring as you watch him berate her but then your heart catches in your chest when you hear him speak. 

"Daiyu..." His voice is soft as he touches her forearm, "You must always remember your own cup, tea was made to be enjoyed in company." 

The girl looks up, bewildered. 

"Y...your fierceness I…" She clutches at the green silk ribbon that adorns her wrist. Crackling and smoothing the fabric as she tries to refute without really refusing. It's obvious she's a fresh servant from the Earth kingdom. You had noticed that majority of Zuko's helping hands were a modge podge of former refugees from all across the lands. 

"It is fine. You may have my cup." He pours her tea first, earning a blush as he presents it to her. 

And with a smile no less. 

Your heart summersolts in your chest, thumping with questions and anger, all unnoticed to the small party. 

It is true you had observed the Firelord over the last six months, most of it arguments and fights between the two of you.  You thought you had him pegged as a bitter Prince with daddy issues and an absentee mother. 

But you were starting to question if you had observed closely enough. When she does not take the tea his molten eyes flash an emotion you've never see before. 

"You may take it with you back to the kitchen if you think it is against etiquette." He leaves the nature of their relationship unspoken and finally she bows deeply before reaching for the tea. 

"Thank you Firelord Zuko." She bows again with tea in hand before exiting the room, softly shutting the sliding door behind her. 

Aang chuckles as deft hands pour the other two cups. The Avatar holds onto his tea with a smile, looking after where the young woman stood.  

"They still aren't used to a kind Firelord are they?" He takes a small sip as Zuko offers you your tea. You glare at the light green liquid, staring down your own reflection before he half growls in frustration. 

"At least sit." He gestures to a pillow beside him to which you plop down on ungracefully after a moment or two. Brown eyes watch you with undying curiosity while golden ones bore holes into your skin. 

"I want them to feel more like employees than servants." He address Aang's previous question, "How is Katara?" 

A dip in his tone that has your brows furrowed as Aang's voice carries throughout the room. 

"Happy and busy as ever especially with two kids." He smiles hard enough he is forced to close his eyes, "And you and Mai?" 

A small silence before Zuko chooses to speak the truth. 

"We...have chosen separate paths." 

"Ah I'm…." A heated hand stops the avatar from speaking. It is clear that Zuko does not want his old friend's pity but it is left unspoken. Instead he shifts their focus back on Aang. 

"What of Sokka and Suki? And my best friend Toph?" The scowl is quickly replaced with a gentle smile that spreads across his lips, leaving you bewildered. You had figured he was all angst and rigid but you figured even coins had two sides. 

"They are well. We should camp. For old times sake."

"Maybe I'll chase you around for an hour or two." They share another hearty laugh before a flip is switched and Zuko returns to all of adjectives you're familiar with. 

Stern.

Serious.

Calculating. 

Not...not smiles

And surely not kindness. 

A grin washes over your features as you realize his softness can last only so long, you bring the green tea to your lips. Refreshing satisfaction washes over your tongue.

"What really brings you here Aang?" His stature no longer vulnerable, his spine straight and those broad shoulders snapped back. Aang sighs, having wanted more of his friend than his ally today. 

"It is your sister. Azula." The tea cup in your hand threatens to snap from that name alone. Rage seeps into every fiber of your being, into your bones as you grit your teeth to keep from speaking. 

You needed to hear what was next. 

"She's finally been spotted." Steam escapes Zuko's nose for a long moment. When he opens his eyes again it is as if the brewing storm calmed. Head level and clear as he speaks. 

"It's time she came home." 

But you see the fresh steam billowing from the spout of the tea pot. A defiant smile forms on your lips as you watch the hairline crack in the ceramic form before your eyes. 

It's time you tested how well he could keep his temper under control with a guest. 

"Bring her home?" You ask, golden eyes snap to you. Your infernal voice one of the few things left on his Earth that got under his skin. 

"Surly you don't mean here." You set your tea down, heat radiates from his toned body all the way through his thick robes dancing along your exposed skin.  A shiver runs down your spine from the hint of a fight. 

"I think you mean a rehabilitation center. If you missed being called Zuzu so much. I would be more than happy to oblige." A purr leaves your plump lips as his eyebrow tics in tandem with his sharp jawline. 

Aang is left to watch the scene unfold with inquisitive eyes, not yet having the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance. 

"Uh Zuko who is this exactly?" You glare at the Avatar as the Firelord's heat slowly dies down.  

"My name is too difficult for your tongue. I hail from a much different land." You roll your eyes as you sink into the silky pillow. Another glare sent your way as his eyes seem to scream murder. 

"My uncle called her Lost Dragon. She answers to that or Jasmine. He tried to name her after his favorite tea." Amber pools soften at the the thought until he remembers who it's about, "Mostly I say you." 

"In that irritated tone too?" Aang chuckles and Zuko nods. 

"Well I must confess. This is very much…..you." He looks you over before holding eye contact with Zuko, "You may have found your FireLady." 

You snap up from your lying position ready to throw daggers his way but the tea pot explodes instead. Aang guides the boiling tea into his empty cup laughing as he's clearly struck a nerve. 

"I would never." His voice dips so low and so dark it almost stops Aang from relishing in his now rare moment of igniting Zuko's ire. 

The tone does not sit well with you causing you to send an icy glare his way.

"Whatever you say hotman." Fire erupts from Zuko's shoulders. 

"Don't call me that!" An infectious laugh rings out before Aang retorts. 

"Whatever you say hotman." He covers his mouth before he takes another sip of tea, "In all seriousness those sightings of your sister are rumors for now. But I wanted to tell you in person first." 

Aang sets down his cup and stands, looking Zuko in his eyes. He offers a smile that the firelord returns.

"Another day?" Aang asks. 

"Hopefully sooner rather than later. And for pleasure instead for business." 

They bow to one another fist in hand before the Avatar slips out of the door. 

Zuko turns to you stepping almost too quickly as he breathes life into a powerful blast that you dismiss with your own fire. 

You both stare one another down for countless minutes before Daiyu slides open the door  The hairs on the nape of her neck stand straight up as she feels the exuding power seeping from the two bodies in the room. She is not quick enough to slide it back shut like she wishes. Neither breaks eye contact even as she struggles to get her message out. 

"F..Firelord Zuko, your bath is ready." Another moment passes before he sighs heavily. Steam filling the room until neither can see the other. 

"Thank you Daiyu. I shall retire for now." A threat lingers in his voice as you hear him exit the room. 

You grit your teeth as your body carries you back out to the large tree in the garden where you've been sleeping. Refusing to sleep in the house of your enemy. You slam your knife into the bark of the tree above your head before you adjust your weight in the branch. Wondering why in the hell the man you respected so much, the man who understood the pain you went through, who apologized for his actions, sent you to watch over some arrogant over grown brat. 

 

"Destiny is a funny thing."  His voice echos in your head as you drift to sleep dreaming of the deep golden color of oolong tea.

[miidnightglosss]

Boston Tea Party - Part 3 (Matt Connerly: Chapter 1)

Matt Connery - Chapter 1

Matt aggressively threw himself into a chair, scattering multiple bags on M&Ms, nails, and old Pokemon cards. "I'm gonna need chicken blood, salt, five candles, and a bottle of vodka," he said.

Johanna peered over his shoulder, bottles of soda in one hand while she settled her sunglasses on her head with the other. "Vodka? For the ritual?"

Matt sighed dramatically. "No, that's just to make me feel better about ripping a hole in the universe."

"We're just setting up for a party," Sebastian reminded, rolling his eyes. He grabbed the M&Ms from Matt and poured them into a bowl on the nearby snack table.

"Dude, what the fawk," Johanna scoffs with a sort of frat boy-valley accent, lightly punching Sebastian a couple of times in the back.

"We have to get ready, don't we? The party starts at two and it’s already--" Sebastian pulled out his phone and checked the time-- "1:48."

"Shit, he's right. What's all that stuff for anyway?"

"Well," Matt started, "before your boyfriend so RUDELY took my things without ASKING, the M&Ms were for shooting up our noses, the Pokemon cards were for Kiss and Blow, and the nails were just for cinematic effect."

"First of all, I'm pretty sure someone will snort something regardless," Johanna started. "Second of all, those are my Pokemon cards. Gimme back my fucking Flareon. We'll use something else for Kiss and Blow. Third of all, nails are a delicacy that shouldn't be wasted for trivial recreational purposes. Fourth of all, we're not dating."

Yeah, fucking right, Matt thought to himself. It was totally obvious they had a thing for each other. Johanna called it "brotherly love", Matt called it "sexual tension". "Okay, maybe not yet, but eventually."

"Nah, she's engaged to Bartholomew," Sebastian teased. Johanna punched him in the arm, more harshly this time. Laughing obnoxiously, Sebastian ran around the house while Johanna chased him close behind, pillow in hand, smacking him when she was close enough.

Matt rolled his eyes just as Bart, Ciel, and Lizzie walked through the door, all with different snacks in hand. Lizzie's wearing her usual pigtails down, a much more mature look from what everyone is used to.

"Hey, guys," Matt greeted. "We're still setting up snacks and stuff, but feel free to get comfortable."

"Awesome," Bart replied, setting his Mountain Dew: Code Red down on the table. "Where's Johanna?"

Matt shrugged. "I don't know. Currently somewhere with Sebastian and a pillow." Right after that sentence dropped from his mouth, Bart power-walked through the house in search of the girl. "I probably could've worded that better."

"I'm not even going to ask," Ciel sighs.

Elizabeth went up to Matt and enveloped him in a hug. "You look so cute today! Normally dark colors aren't my thing, but they suit you perfectly! Although might I suggest..." The blonde reached into a pocket on her overalls and pulled out a cat ring, placing it in Matt's hand. Matt observed its white body as he pushed it down on his left middle finger, its rainbow eyes reflecting the light.

"I bought one for Johanna, too," Lizzie continued, hardly able to keep her excitement. "I know how you two always go to pride every year together and once I saw how cute it was, I couldn't resist."

"Believe me, she couldn't," Ciel huffed, dropping down on the couch.

Normally, Matt cringes at how enthusiastic and cute Lizzie is all the time. However, this time was an exception. "Thanks, Lizzie." Reluctantly, he returned the hug. It's only a few seconds before Ciel mumbled a "too long" under his breath, the three of them laughing as Grell, William, Ronald, and the others walk in.

Within minutes, everyone had a drink in hand and is settling into the party. Matt felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see Sebastian. "Oh, hey, man. What's Joey doing?"

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. "She and Bart are arguing over something. Nothing serious, I don't think."

"Oh." That's weird. Those two hardly ever fight, Matt thought.

"Yeah..." Sebastian trailed off. "Anyways, you said your dad was supposed to be performing? That would certainly kick the party off to a good start."

"Oh, shit, yeah, you're right." Matt handed his solo cup of blue Mountain Dew to Sebastian. "Hold this for me."

Hearing Sebastian mutter a "what the fuck", Matt made his way outside to the garage his father had converted into a studio. He named it Santa Monica Discharge, whatever the fuck that means. He still has no idea where the fuck that idea came from but his dad practically took LSD every day of his 20s.

Without knocking, Matt quietly opened the door to the studio to see his father listen intently as another masculine figure, probably a couple of years older than him, played a few notes from an Elvis Presley song on a keyboard.

"Oh, hey, bud," August greeted with a smile as he stood up. The other figure turned around as well, still holding the last note he left on.

So, he's got brown eyes, floofy hair, pretty fucking sick tattoos, he's actually pretty skinny but has buffed out arms, and is an overall bean, Matt thought to himself. It wasn't that bad of a description. The brunet was about as tall as August, his hair falling ever so slightly in front of his warm ivory face. His brown eyes met Matt's gunmetal blue before he had to break from whatever trance this stranger has put on him.

Matt shook his head, returning his attention to August. "We were, uh, getting ready for you to perform, whenever you ready." He nodded towards the other male in the room. "Who's this?"

August patted the stranger's back. "This is Christian. I'm pretty sure he goes to your school."

"I'm a senior," Christian chimed in.

"Yep. He came to me seeking musical guidance so I decided to help him out a bit," August explained. "I didn't mean for it to cut into your party, though. I didn't forget or anything."

"Yeah, I should probably get going," Christian agreed, grabbing his bag resting on the floor. "I've got a little project I'm working on anyways."

"H E Y, why not come veg with us cool kids for a bit," Matt offered shakily, immediately mentally kicking himself for acting so stupid.

"Aren't you guys just a bunch of freshmen?"

Matt felt a pit fall into his stomach. "Well, I mean--"

"Nah, I'm kidding. I'm playing with August today, actually."

"Oh, cool," Matt chuckled to himself. Wait, weren't you just about to leave? That don't make no sense. "See you in a couple of minutes then. With that, he turned and left the studio.

The entire way back to the house (a quick 35-second trip, at most), Matt couldn't help but yell at himself for acting like such an anxiety-ridden freak. A gorgeous man WHO GOES TO YOUR SCHOOL walks into your house and what do you do? You go 'oH, hEy, SoRrY, dO yOu CoMe HeRE oFtEn? Really? CUZ I LIVE HERE AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH--

Bart came storming out of the front door, holding his nose, wincing quietly.

Matt began to ask, "Dude--"

"Don't fucking talk to me," Bart yelled, making his way towards the sidewalk, pulling out his phone a tapping a bit.

Slowly, Matt walked inside, hoping someone would have an explanation for what just happened. Alas, everyone was just as stunned as he was.

Someone get a moving van because these last 5 minutes have been a lot to unpack.

[weclassygirl]

𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

Word count: +5.1k (clownery at its finest)

Pairing: coa!step x oc!ava

Summary: Step actually had help in finding V when she got taken in Tokyo...

Warnings: softness, mention of nightmares

Author’s note: hello, the lovely kat from @the-darklings​ let me write for her hacker disaster boy Step from her fic “children of ares”, alongside my own oc. as always English is not my first language so beware. take care everyone <3

Pinterest board (includes Ava's apartment)

Gif credits (x)

The knock on her door comes just after midnight. She's not expecting anyone at this time, only in the morning hours, but maybe her client changed his mind. 

She goes to the door and looks through the peephole to see a familiar slender figure standing behind it. The woman steps back and sighs. She was worried sick.

She opens her dark door to the man that she haven't heard from in a few weeks. He’s wearing his signature round sunglasses and it still makes her wonder how can he see through them. He sports a striped yellow shirt with suspenders underneath a light wool coat. He holds a laptop in his hands. 

A worried and confused expression makes its way onto her face as she opens the door more widely. “Step?” she questions.”What are you doing here? Where have you been?” the woman wonders out loud. 

“Buonasera Ava, I am in dire need of your helping hands and brain.” he tells her quickly with a grin growing on his face. He doesn’t respond to her last question. 

Ava raises her eyebrows at him. “Dire need, you say?” she acknowledges slowly, waiting for his response. She haven’t seen him in weeks and even tried to contact him but to no use. 

“I’ll pay for your services in a form of some hugs and Skittles?” he offers with a playful smile playing on his lips. 

She looks up at him, barely seeing his blue eyes through the dark glasses. “Hmm… tempting.” she hums thoughtfully. Ava closes her eyes for a moment and sighs opening the door wider. “Alright, get in.” she invites him to her apartment. 

As he walks through the door he says “Have I told you how much I adore you?” and she chuckles, her back turned away from him as she closes and locks the door. Step is patiently standing in the small hallway. 

“Don't say it too fast, you still haven't told me why you need my help and where you've been.” she responds as he hangs his coat on one of the hangers on the wall. 

“Of course, where are my manners.” he reaches up to his face, takes off the round glasses and puts them in the lapel of his shirt. “I need your help in finding someone.” 

Ava draws her eyebrows together in confusion. “Finding someone? That's the easiest thing in the book, you don't need my help for that.” she says a matter-of-factly. Tracking is truly one of the easiest thing a hacker can learn. Why would he come to her in the middle of a night with a request that he could have handled on his own? 

“I'm afraid that I do… help me Ava, you're my only hope.” he clasps his hands together in a silent plead. Ava turns her head to the side and scoffs. “Bold move using that reference against me.” she warns him with a smirk on her face. 

He steps a bit closer. “You love it.” Ava looks up at his towering frame and rolls her eyes and breaths in. “Okay, turn on your laptop.” 

“Right away.” he salutes you and moves to the small kitchen island connected to the rest of the countertop. He pulls out his laptop while Ava begins to make coffee for both of them, she can already feel that it’s gonna be a long night, but that has never stopped them. 

As Step taps away on his laptop she pulls out two mugs and pours the dark liquid. She places the mug next to him as he steps out of the seat and points to it invitingly. Ava sits in the dark chair and stares at the screen in front of her.

“So what am I looking at exactly?” she asks as she sips on the hot coffee. He leans over her shoulder and looks at the screen.

“This is as far as I could go into the server. I thought that you could use one of your fancy programs and boost this up a little.” her gaze is focused on the screen but the woman bends her neck and narrows her eyes at the man. 

“You could have written one by yourself.” Ava tells him and he pulls back to lean against the counter. “Yes, but you know me, I am too lazy for that.” he admits with a tilt of his head. 

She turns to the bright screen and begins to tap in various commands that could help her speed up the process. “But not too lazy to come way over here asking me to do that apparently.” she comments with slightly more opened eyes. A small smile is etched onto her face and Step hangs his head down and laughs.

“Touché, carina, touché.” he admits and moves to sit next to Ava. 

“And who am I looking for?” the woman questions, not removing her eyesight from the screen filled with various of commands. 

“A woman that goes by V or The Vipress.” he informs her. She stops her typing and looks at him. He’s sitting close to her, their arms almost touching. 

“That’s why you’ve been gone? Cause of some girl?” she asks him, a hint of irritation lacing her voice. Step only smiles faintly. “Well, not exactly. My boss wants me to find her, if I do that I get to live the rest of my days.” the tattooed man says it as if it’s the most obvious thing. 

Ava ponders at his answer. “So he will kill you if you don’t find her?” she says slowly, but Step doesn’t respond her right away. The golden haired woman turns to him fully, worry evident on her face. “What did you got yourself into?”

Step only draws in a breath and squints. “You see I rather not answer that now.” 

“Step…” she warns him, the laptop next to her momentarily forgotten.

“You’ll get mad.” he points out. “Of course I'll get mad. You're gone for a few weeks with no contact whatsoever, I thought that Slifer killed you.” 

Slifer. The cyber terrorist group both of them have been apart of at some point. Step has run with them longer then Ava. The woman only worked with them on a specific projects. Never lingered around, but always stayed a bit longer to catch up with Step. Both of them became very fast friends, impressed by both of their skills and fond of each others personality. He was always the one to light up the mood as he walked into the room, while she was also the same but more reserved, preferring to work in peace. The only person that turned out to be able to break that peace without really interrupting was Step. 

After Ava stopped working for Slifer, she exchanged contacts with Step, should the one of them need help. He never did and neither did she but he always visited her to talk, watch movies, share some work or even go out sometimes. But now, this time is an exception as he sits next to her, asking for help.

“Oh, I am not with them anymore.” he says bluntly. “What?” Ava asks confused. 

“I am not with them, I am with some other group now.” he informs her. The confusion on her face only grows. She knows that Step is highly secretive, she is too, but they trust each other… sort of. “What group?” she questions further.

The tattooed man looks at her and presses his lips into a thin line. “Promise you won’t get mad.”

“Step.” she warns.

“Please.” 

She sighs. “Fine.”

Step watches her carefully before answering. “I am working with Camorra now.” he squints at Ava, expecting her reaction. 

The woman blinks. That was not the answer she was prepared for. Step looks into her green eyes and notices a gleam of the lamp reflecting in them. He can even see his tiny silhouette in them. 

“You… you work with Camorra?” she asks doubt founded. He nods and she steps out of the chair and walks back and forth for a moment. She stops and heads towards Step, hitting him in the arms repeatedly. “Are you completely out of your mind?” she raises her voice slightly.

“Most of the time yes and- ow! you promised.” she stops her actions and glares at him, fire dancing in her eyes. “It’s not like I joined them. The boss himself recruited me.”

“Giovanni D’Antonio hand picked you?” she questions with a slight suspicion. “There’s gotta be a catch.” Ava says this as she sits down on the seat at the counter. 

“There is none. If I find that girl he’ll let me stay with them and even help take Slifer down.” he tells her quickly. If he says that there is no catch then it has to be right. Step is… paranoid, to say the least. He would check any little information just to confirm his speculations. 

She can’t argue with him, he’s right. Camorra is known for its brutality and power. There is a reason for why they rule in Italy and it came with tons of shed blood. Ava just looks at Step and gives up. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” she whispers loud enough for him to hear. “Alright, back to your girl.” Ava switches her attention from his piercing gaze to the bright screen of the laptop. “When did she went missing?” 

Step scoots in closer. "About nine days ago, in Tokyo." He informs Ava as she begins to work and enter the necessary codes and commands.

"One of the most crowded cities in the world." she tilts her head in affirmation. "That definitely doesn't complicate this whole thing." she adds sarcastically and grins faintly. 

"Now you see my problem." Step comments and leans back in his seat sipping on his coffee. The pleasant smell has already traveled through the whole apartment and it gives Ava a sense of comfort.

As the woman taps away on the laptop she notices that the whole tracking may take more time than she thought. Step had a good reason to come to her, this whole process begins to look like a maze. "Damn, that's gonna take a while." 

Over half an hour passes as Ava plugs in one of her USB drives with a program that could help with the tracking. As the laptop complies with it, Ava and Step try to catch up. He tells her that he run away from Slifer cause they used and betrayed him. He says that Giovanni made him an offer that he couldn't refuse if he valued his life. Ava listens intently to his story and wonders if that could circle back to her. Both of them were close at their on and off time at Slifer, they knew that Step was the only person able and allowed to reach her. She wants to help him take them down, but she prefers to work from her hideouts. 

This apartment is her own and only Step knows about it. His paranoid tendencies rubbed of on her. She's grateful for that but finds it annoying sometimes. Always having to watch her back. 

Ava moves her attention back to the laptop and taps in some of the last codes that only she has access to. The laptop screen stops as she exclaims. "I think I may have something." Both of them look at the screen… all of it in Japanese. 

"Now that's another problem." he points out with a gesture of his tattooed hand. "Sadly, I don't know Japanese that good." he pouts and looks to Ava. 

She smirks in his direction. "Aren't you glad to have me on hand then? I still remember some stuff unlike you." she responds in a slightly judgy tone. Step notices it but doesn't comment, instead a smirk of his own forms on his face. 

Ava's gaze hardens on the screen. "It's some sort of report." she mutters, her voice low. "The girl has been captured and moved to a secure location at the edge of the city." she roughly translates, her Japanese a bit rusty. 

"At least that narrows it down. What about that?" he points to the symbol on the edge of the screen. Ava immediately scans it and both of them are faced with one word. 

"Yakuza?" she wonders out loud but doesn't ponder about it for too long. It's Japan, they rule in it. "Probably the ones that took her." Step only hums in confirmation. "You know them?" the woman questions.

"My new boss is not a fan of theirs." he informs her. The space is filled with silence, the only sound that can be heard is the tapping on the keyboard. Ava suddenly hangs her head and huffs, Step looks her way as small strands of hair fall in front of her face. "Can't believe you're working for him." she exclaims. 

"Excuse me, I just got there over a week ago." he says with a playful undertone.

"And you should have left them right away." she tells him, worry beginning to lace with her voice. "It's Camorra, Step. You really want to get involved in their business?" she questions him and stops working on her laptop for a brief second. 

Step only sighs and his following words are quiet, which is unusual for him. "It's better than staying with Slifer and they could actually help us take them down. Another chess piece off their board I guess." 

The tranquility fills up the space between them. Serious conversations are not their thing, but sometimes they have to have one of those to voice their concerns. Their world is not safe for anyone, with him now being wanted it gets even more difficult. Ava's thoughts are interrupted with a soft ping coming from the laptop. Both of the hackers look its way and Ava starts to panic as she sees multiple stuff and windows popping up on the screen. 

She quickly crosses the small space of her apartment to her bag and pulls another USB from her collection and attaches it to the laptop. Step watches the whole situation like a movie, not moving from his seat since he knows it won't be good use. If Ava is set on something then it's in better mind not to interrupt her. 

The woman taps something on the keyboard and the whole commotion on the screen stops. She sighs relieved. "I am truly glad that I came to you." Step comments from her side and chuckles. She releases one of her own. "Yeah, you would have been dead without me." she bites back. 

"May I?" the man points to the laptop. Most of the work is done, the only last thing is for Step to finish the tracking. Ava stands up from her seat and switches places with Step. He begins to tap away as she takes both of their mugs with finished coffees and place them in the sink with a soft clink. She quickly cleans them and turns to the tattooed man. The ink reaching up his neck, cascades down his arms up to his finger tips. She used to trace them whenever she had a pretty rough nightmare and he was trying to calm her down.  

Step was kicked out of his house but Ava never had one. She grew up in shelters without even knowing her family. The only thing she remembers as she tried to find them was their reaction to her standing at their doorsteps with a small baby in her mother's arms. She saw that she doesn't fit in their little dream so she left, traveled from country to country until she found herself in Italy. 

She met Step at the Slifer, two competitive hackers trying to get by in life. Slifer took an interest in them when they found out about their hits, both of them targeted at some big corporations. They offered a place in their group, Step accepted right away but Ava agreed to work on some occasions. 

"You're gonna stay with them." it's not a question, more of an observation. Step looks up from the laptop and stares into her eyes. Her expression neutral. He turns his gaze to the screen and adds finishing touches to tracking the missing woman. 

"I have nothing better to do and this time, who knows, it might get me somewhere." 

"It could lead you to trouble. You have a tendency to bring them to you like a magnet." 

Step grins. "Everyone needs a bit of danger in their life, carina." 

"Not if it kills you." she warns with a playful tone and a hint of smile.

"You could join." he suddenly says and Ava raises her eyebrow. "I'm sure they would gladly accept your services." he finishes with a small curl of his lips. 

"Camorra doesn't just accept random people." 

The Italian mob picks their crew very carefully, if you have some resemblance of skill or talent they consider taking you in. Camorra has eyes and ears everywhere, they know about cyber groups working in the undergrounds, they have enemies in them. Some fear them and step back but there are some that think that they could overpower the mob. 

"The accepted me." Step proclaims, the bright light of the screen illuminates his pale face. 

"Yeah, cause you were staying with Slifer longer than I did. You being hunted by them made you draw attention to yourself." Ava sits down on the seat next to him and leans the side of her body on the counter. Step briefly side eyes the blonde haired woman.

"You need to live a little Ava. Those jobs that you take up on aren't worthy of your precious brain." he taps her head with his tattoed finger. She leans in closer to him. 

"At least I make some good money out of it." she keeps her gaze on him as if to challenge the man. He's not backing down and begins to smile. Both of them start to laugh and in the midst of the cheerful atmosphere the laptop stops it's movement and shows a map. Or more likely a location. They found V. 

They can see guards placed in various places outside of the secured underground facility and also some blueprints with the layout of the place. 

"Yes!" Step shouts and immediately picks Ava up in a hug. She yelps in surprise, both of them laugh with victory, Step gives a small peck to her head, cheeks and puts her down on the ground. "You" he points to her "are brilliant!" 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You don't have to thank me." she says nonchalantly with a grin. 

"Oh, but I do." he reaches to his pocket and she hears a rustling of a paper. He pulls out a bag of Skittles and offers them with his hands, slightly bowing. "For your trouble, my lady." 

She scoffs and takes the red bag from him. "I am flattered." she opens the candy and takes out the yellow ones and gives them to the man in front of her. 

"Do you have a phone I could use?" he asks and she puts the candy bag on the counter. 

"Yeah, let me just get it real quick." she crosses the room to her wardrobe and pulls out a box filled with files, burner phones, CD's and USB drives. She takes one of the phones and tosses it to Step. He dials a number as she sits on the couch and turns on the TV, briefly watching the news. 

She hears Step talk with who she presumes is Giovanni, in Italian. He quickly tells him that he found the Vipress and sends him every information that both of them found. He doesn't mention anything about Ava and she has nothing against it. She rather work from the sidelines than risk being on the radar of Camorra. 

They probably think that Step is at his own apartment and tell him to come to the mansion at 9am. It's currently nearing 1:30am. 

As Step finishes the call, Ava places a blanket and a pillow on the couch for the man. He turns in her direction and sees what she's doing. 

"Oh, there's no need for that." he says, lifting his hands up in protest. She looks at him with one of the pillows in her hand. 

"Yes it is. It's an hour drive from here to your apartment and it's gonna be raining at night anyway. You can stay for the night, it won't kill you." she comments placing the pillow on the couch. "And I still owe you from the last time." 

The last time Ava stayed at Step's place while she was running away from one of her clients. Ava has a rule, she doesn't take up the same client twice, Step being the exception. That time the client needed her skills again but she refused which resulted in her being wanted by them. She had to leave the apartment she was occupying at that time and seeked out help with Step. He was reluctant at first but eventually agreed. 

Step hangs his head in defeat, he knows she won't take no for an answer. "Up for a movie night?" he proposes.

"Not a movie, but we can watch some TV show. Aren't you supposed to get up before nine or something?" she sits down on the light couch and Step sits next to her, their knees almost touching. 

"The definition of sleep is non existent in my mind." he takes the remote and starts flipping through the channels and stops at "The Office". 

"You'll regret that in the morning." she says, her gaze focused on the screen. Step briefly side glances her before his attention switches back to the show. 

They watch a couple of episodes before Step feels a weight being pressed on his shoulder. He looks down and sees asleep Ava leaning against him. She needs sleep more than Step, she can handle all nighters to a certain point but loves to sleep in late. 

Step turns off the TV, carefully moves to not wake up Ava and picks her up and places her in her bed. As he covers her with a blanket her phone pings with a message. He looks towards the sleeping woman and reaches to turn the phone off but his attention is caught with the content of the message. A threat. He reads it and guesses that it must be one of her clients wanting to work with her again. Step turns the phone off and decides that he will ask about it in the morning. 

He crosses the room to the couch and places his glasses on the table and covers himself with a blanket. It's dark in the apartment, he hears a faint tapping on the windows. Rain begins to hit it and the sound of it lulls Step to sleep.                               

Step wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of a soft whimper coming from Ava. The man notices that she is having a nightmare and quickly comes over to her side. He knows that waking her up will be no help, so he settles with something that he knows could be of use. 

He takes her hand in his tattoed one and traces soft patterns on it. Her whimpers calm down and she immediately relaxes in his hold. Nightmares are common for both of them and they found some ways to help the other throughout the years. The first time he tried to get her to calm down from a nightmare, she almost hit him in the face with a lamp. Now he knows that it’s safer to just calm her as she sleeps.

For him it’s just slowly waking up, without shouting at him, the shouting only worsens the nightmare. She used to just place her hand on his arm or cheek and whisper to him to wake up. Both of them are haunted by their own demons and still manage to smile and be happy despite all of the shit that they had to go through.

The clock next to her shows 6am. Step decides to start his day, he doesn't need that much sleep anyway. 

He turns on his laptop and goes through the network, looking at the news and continues writing a program that he started designing, occasionally looking to Ava to make sure he didn’t woke her up. He works quietly and soon enough it's 7:30am. 

Ava wakes up to the smell of a fresh coffee. She looks at the clock on her stand and turns on her phone to see one message. She decides to get out of the bed and head to the kitchen. In it she finds Step, turned with his back to her. He acknowledges her with giving her a cup of warm coffee. She takes a sip and immediately melts at the feeling of a sweet liquid warming up her body. 

Step watches her and smiles. "Buongiorno Ava." she looks into his blue eyes and responds with a soft "Hi."

Both of them move to the couch, listening to the gentle tapping of raindrops on the window sill. They sit in a comfortable silence before Ava decides to speak up. 

"So… you're Camorra now." she says softly. 

"I think so." he answers. "Kinda neat, I'll have another place to stay if something happens, they'll pay me some good money." he turns to the woman beside him, the mug warming his hands. He looks down to his cup. "I saw a message on your phone." 

"Oh?"

"Yeah… Is someone after you?" he says with a slight worry evident in his voice. 

She looks to him and shakes her head. "No." she exclaims but Step feels that this isn't the end. "Well, I'm not sure now. It's just some assholes that needed me for another job, even though I told them that I don't work with the same people twice." the blonde explains. 

Step puts his mug down on the table. "That message looked like a threat." he says warily. The glasses on his head reflecting the morning sunshine that started to peak out from the rainy clouds. 

"I have it covered." she puts her mug down as well and leans her side on the couch, facing the tattooed man. She leans in a bit closer. He looks at her, doubt filling his face, an eyebrow raised. He doesn't believe her. "I'm serious, you have nothing to worry about. I had a similar situation before and handled it, you know that." 

He fully knows that she's capable of surviving and successfully running away from people and problems. But still the thought of losing a person that actually tolerates him, that has been beside him through thick and thin… 

"If you need anything-" 

She cuts him off. "Yes, I know, I turn to you. Noted." 

The silence fills up the air as both if them sit on the couch. They just study each other, Step sports small, nearly invisible cuts on his face while her own shows tiredness from just waking up. 

"When Slifer is gone, text me. We have to celebrate somehow." she addresses him and places her head on her hand. "You could always help Camorra with that too." 

She looks at him like crazy. "And risk them making me a target? No thank you, I value my life… even though I helped you with that girl." he chuckles at her explanation and some sort of weight drops from her shoulders. 

Step looks at the clock beside her bed. 8:10am. The man sighs and begins to rise from the couch. 

"I have to go, don't wanna lose my hand or head on my first day." 

Ava raises up too and both of them move to the front door of her apartment. "You'll be fine. I'm pretty sure you're smarter than all of them combined." she admits as she follows him. He takes his coat from the hanger and puts it on. 

"You're pretty sure? Well call me hurt, I thought you had me for a genius." he comments with a hand placed on his chest, as to show that he's truly wounded. 

"I have you for pretty annoying genius most of the time." 

He beams and raises his eyebrows in amusement. "You think I'm pretty?" 

Ava smiles and places her own hand on his chest, pushing him towards the door. "Always a charmer. Just go, I'll call you later. I have a potential client in an hour anyway." 

"You still takes those? In your home?" he questions with slightly widened eyes. 

"Not in my home, are you mad?" she exclaims. "Some museum gallery, it's just info gathering. They'll send the rest through the network." 

Ava unlocks the door and reaches for the doorknob. "Careful with that. Everyone and everything can be hacked nowadays." he says it with a smile like a Cheshire Cat. 

She points between them. "But not us." 

"That's why we have people hunting us like witches… Alright, thank you once again for your help carina. If you need me, just ring the doorbell to Camorra, I'm sure they'll open without a trouble." he grins as you open the door. 

"Yeah." 

As he walks through the door he turns around one last time before leaving. "You shouldn't be hiding your talent Ava. It's no use." he tells her. She knows that he's right, but she can't risk it. 

"I call it being precautious. You should have understand it, with you being all paranoid." she wiggles her fingers at him and he chuckles. 

He haven't seen her this joyful in weeks, besides not seeing her in weeks. He’s been away, work has been keeping her up all nights and she is known to be a stubborn perfectionist. 

"And now I am even more safe and paranoid with the lovely Camorra." he smirks.

Ava tip toes to him, puts her hand on the side of his face and pecks his cheek as a goodbye. He softly holds her waist.

"I'll see you around Step." she pulls away and he puts on his glasses. 

"Likewise Ava." he bows slightly and leaves the woman's apartment. She watches as he walks away when she shouts after him.

"You owe me!" her voice echoes throughout the hallway and she sees his faint figure raise his hand up as if to say Of course. 

He disappears behind the corner and Ava closes her door, locks it and leans against them. She smiles and shakes her head. The woman moves further into the apartment beginning to prepare for her next client. 

[middleinthenight21]

Ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

@ravenfan1242  I don't know what I would do without your help.  I have told you. 

You are incredibly beautiful 💕

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

"So funny." Garfield smiled and Raven grimaced.

The demons smiled when they saw that they had lost, and the angels looked away from the pain.

"Why are you with me? "

The phrase came out hard and cold, as if she were asking a criminal why he decided on that life. She was tired and angry, tired of going through the uncertainty that his voice loved her so much and not meeting her expectations, of wondering what would become of Garfield if Terra hadn't died and wanted to get him out of her veins.

She clearly saw the disinterest; it was tattooed on his soul and he did not realize it.

If he gave her a reason to stay ...

Garfield looked up. "Excuse me?"

It's now or never.

"Maybe you should free me." She leaned against the counter. Her hands dug into the soft fabric of her clothing, like an anchor; She hadn't expected her heart to squeeze, she kept screaming, hitting the walls to stop it, but her mind reminded her that she was the girl who survived hell. Gathering her strength "Why are you with me? " She repeated.

Suddenly she's tired of building walls around the relationship to watch them fall repeatedly. She no longer wants to murmur that they are okay with others when they ignored each other, from having rowdy arguments only to end up coming back, offering flowers and hugs, as if that was enough to convince her, she had wasted whole nights trying to square their differences, watching the heavens and whispering to their gods to end all this.

She had been taught in stories that love should hurt, otherwise it wouldn't be worth it in the end. You get to know him, you fall in love, you suffer until you get your happy ending, cost and prize.

Fuck this love.

If he's playing, just let her know.

He sent her a painful look, put his cell phone aside "Rae…"

No, they would not do this again.

She stepped back.

Garfield stood up, smoothing down his pajamas, and for the first time in months she saw him take on a serious expression. He walked slowly, like stepping on needles and spread his hands trying to join them, but she moved away, shaking her head repeatedly.

"I love you. Rae please. " One of his hands caressed her cheek. He brushed her short hair behind her ear. "I love only you. Nobody else. "

She stepped back, pulling his hands away, and muttered, "You know it's not true."

She didn't realize how much it hurt until the words left her mouth. They became a curse, a truth that turned hearts to dust, but for Raven it is not an unusual sensation, more like hearing the last words of a condemned man.

She crossed her arms ignoring his face "We both know this was going to end like this. "

Garfield shook his head and put their foreheads together, she could no longer fight this. She saw his aura weaving into deep blue, a shade she didn't often see, but it wasn't the same as when a certain person died in his arms, it's not that sadness.

It was not the same.

Her green hair was soft, heshe smelled of shampoo made of plants, like a forest, and his breath of milk, like a cat; his hands cupped her cheeks being tender and soft. She almost melted, a part of her wanted to be left alone to receive his attention and affection, it told her stories of how they could rebuild and evolve, she would eat from the leftovers for a while longer until she realized that she is malnourished and sick.

Her father teased her about being too silly, laughed at Garfield and the situation.

"Come on, Raven. I love you and I want to be with you" he said. One of his hands went down to her jaw to trace her neck and settle on the nape of her neck, wanting them to get even closer. "Don't stop this. Don't do this to us. "

She closed her eyes tight.

Get out of this. It's now or never.

She pulled away, denying with a broken voice and tear-clouded eyes. Perhaps this was a weakness, a vicious cycle, for a long time he was her toxin, a drug that was destroying her every day, but she continued to cling to the pleasurable effects, dependence and habit helped her ignore the adverse factors.

Something that made you feel so good couldn't hurt you, right?

"I will not return to the same. We've been like this a long time, Gar" He looked at her; Her green eyes reflecting pain and she swears she'll miss having him so close. "Think about the future, you would be unhappy by my side; be honest you will never love me. We will be miserable together"

"Why are you doing this? "

Why was he acting like it was her fault? He knew what she was talking about, he saw what was hurting them. She gave the final blow, but that fight already started long ago.

The answer was clear "Because I'm not her. "

He stepped back, opening his mouth and closing it, unable to answer. Garfield was hurt, her words were like daggers and she felt terrible, but it is the truth; Raven is not Terra and is exhausted from pretending that he loves her.

For eight months she was a ghost, a specter threatening in the corners, Raven felt her presence unnoticeable in the eyes of the boy who swore he loved her; He was running after someone who would never belong to him and turned his torment on her, carrying her bound in chains with caresses. The chains wouldn't hurt until they hurt her wrists, his caresses turned into pins, and he would never admit that it was his fault.

Okay, she would accept it.

She didn't directly name Terra, but it's not a taboo in her mouth. After two years, the name of the former Titans member still hurt, it was a wound that would never heal for Garfield, perhaps it would live forever, nailed to his bones and running through his veins.

She hit him hard in a vulnerable spot and it felt wrong, like desecrating a holy temple, but she had no other way to show him the truth. Before they were dating, they were friends and Raven ruined everything.

His friendship, his love and companionship.

She bowed her head.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Dick smiles at the door and his girlfriend frowns, realizing something is wrong, but by then Raven is already gone.

A million thoughts go through her mind, like a whirlpool. When she opens the door to the roof of the tower the sky is a thick gray soup, there are no traces of the sun's rays, but the promise of a rain.

*** 

She always returned to Riva Street every time a memory haunted her.

Gotham has the charm of a Francisco de Goya painting, somewhat dark and twisted, it has Wayne Tower, a standard of progress for the city; Raven remembers her open mouth trying to analyze the immensity of the fortune and the power of the millionaire family of the city of the bat, Metropolis shone like the sun in summer, it was beautiful and wide, guarded by the most powerful hero in the world, but not compared to the magnificence of Wayne Tower, the Daily Planet looked like just one more figure blending in with the city, in her time in Azarath she was surrounded by incredible beauty and temples, Jump City was insignificant compared to the places she saw with her eyes, it was a city with the smell of a port, whose inhabitants depended on the coast and tourism.

Gotham has Wayne Tower, Metropolis tot Daily Planet, and Azarath had its temples, but none have Riva Street.

When Raven joined the Titans, she was a hurt and scared girl, who saw deaths, destruction, and dwelt in hell, loving a being who was unable to feel, value, and deserve love, but she had. That was her mistake.

She felt like a stranger, an invisible entity wandering the streets of a foreign city; She looked like a girl, but inside she felt much older. Starfire had shaken her hand, as if she needed a direction, held it so sweetly that she almost cried because she had been stroked long ago with the same kind of love.

Emotions came to her like the wind, it was a strong current that pushed her back almost releasing the hand of the alien princess, but she just whispered that she shouldn’t be scared. Raven had frowned because she probably thought she was shocked by the number of people roaming the streets and that couldn't be further from the truth.

Dick smiled at the scene. Even meters away, she sensed the warmth, how the hero's heart beat strongly, like a horse's trot and almost fell to the melted ground, she believed that it could not be more clear, it was obvious that he wanted the newly baptized leader of the Titans.

She grimaced, wanting to get away from this situation.

Raven did not want this familiarity, she did not deserve it after her choices. Sooner or later it would go wrong, the prophecy was set in stone, it was impossible to erase, and it was the first time that she seriously considered getting lost in the streets and disappearing forever.

Starfire led her by the hand towards a store, eager to try on an outfit she saw on a mannequin, but the girl's vision was focused on an alley, it did not seem part of the city with its buildings and gray streets. It was a corner with the cobblestone floor, small houses painted in different colors, square like match boxes with beautiful terraces adorned with flowers and plants. The restaurants served pizzas, spaghetti and all kinds of typical dishes, people gathered around tables chatting with their friends and families.

She watched people reading, laughing with their children and couples shaking hands.

The aura was tinged with pink, a color that she had never seen before in a concentration that made the sky seem like a sunset.

"If you want, we can go," Dick interjected.

She nodded, showing no emotion.

Years later, she continued to walk down Riva Street, that hidden alley that did not correspond to the city, just like her. Riva street was her, with its relaxed atmosphere, small family restaurants, ice cream parlors and bookstores, it was her secret, nobody knew how much she liked it.

Raven had started and finished books at this place. She created memories, like a buried capsule that few knew about.

It was too intimate.

She knew that her home was with her friends, the people she considers as family, who would die for her and would protect her with their life. It is not a place, but if she would ever settle it would be on this street.

Raven would lease an apartment on Riva Street, perhaps on the second floor of that bookstore with the unpronounceable name that specializes in classics and mystery novels; She would have a cat or dog as a pet who would walk by her side, read on the benches and it would feel great. She would rebuild her relationship with herself.

It was a nice dream.

She sat in a chair waiting for her coffee.

She took the book out of her bag. The first edition of The Raven glowed with its worn cover, it had become a symbol, a sign that her feelings must be thrown away in the trash, the moment she realized it and ran a hand over the object, stroking the bird image.

She frowned.

Her heart gave a painful beat, but she was not ill. She had been through this situation before; She knew this emotion and she was not going to allow it to continue.

How did it make a difference if she started liking him or it was dumb confusion at a low time?

Not that she had much experience around relationships. Her previous relationship was living proof, since then she had made a calculation, perhaps the outcome was not entirely her fault, but Raven tended to cling to people who would never feel the same way about her, loved and hoped they would return it. Her father, her demonic brothers, Garfield ...

Damian would only be one more number on her list. He was already having a bad time for her to have confusion, he didn't need any more drama in his life, where did she come in? Raven was going to destroy their relationship, she had to end it all.

It hadn't been long since she had ended it with Garfield, this couldn't happen to her now. It was just a passing taste, a flutter, and it would go away, like a butterfly.

Did her heart so quickly forget about Beast Boy? She almost shook her head, her words still got stuck when she saw him and she wished that she would confess the truth to him., Give a better explanation of why she abandoned him, because she left him before he did and left him pained on the sidewalk, but it is different, it is that kind of affection accompanied by bad memories, the one that asks for an apology and demands it.

With Damian it's different, it was stupid of him ...

She couldn't help but feel terrible. She felt like a bad person, wanting a friend was the worst thing that could happen to her. She had seen him for years as her best friend, they helped each other when they collapsed due to some circumstance and boy, they had., They talked about books and movies, they could sit down; share a tea and chat about a period of history. With Damian and she would respond with the same interest.

Random, she was going to ruin everything.

Don't feel, she told himself. Don't start, if you do you will want more. You are not that kind of girl.

He deserved a young daughter from a wealthy family, a Gotham princess, and even a model. If they didn't notice her best friend because of his attractiveness, they would because of what he represents. She heard that such powerful family practice was usual (like a novel), although she couldn't imagine Bruce Wayne agreeing with that.

Raven was but a half-breed, half human and demon; someone who was unaware of many terrestrial customs, an anonymous name that was forged from the depths of hell. An abomination, a protégé, destruction and the girl who became a hero hidden under a hood.

A strange sensation invaded her body, as if someone or something was watching her. The air was a mix of pink and green, which she had seen in few people; It is not a secret that Raven can see the aura, they would normally be tinted red, yellow, blue, purple to gold, but green was difficult to find.

She had only seen this shade of green on one person.

"Blessed chance."

She looked up, suppressing a shiver. Out of sheer inertia the book slid forward, almost ripped it from her fingers, and a chill ran through her entire spine, like a fleeting fire; appeared and left instantly.

What was he doing here?

If it wasn't for the voice, she wouldn't recognize him. Damian Wayne stood next to her with dark glasses over his eyes, a thin white scarf with black patterns, and his usual black t-shirt folded neatly to the elbows.

Titus appeared with his tongue sticking out, apparently tired and when he became aware of her presence, he approached flapping his tail. She smiled at the emotion of the dog and stroked him, he licked her hand up to her arm.

He sat down in a chair in front of her. She was surprised to see him leave the tower, since the drama on social networks he had not wanted to pronounce on anything with any of his identities.

Batman, the Justice League, and the Titans suggested solutions, from official statements to videos giving their reasons, but he dismissed it with one hand and focused on training. He didn't do any more, locked himself in and improved his techniques (in her opinion, he didn't need it), now he was he, in front of her showing most of his face.

Maybe Damian got tired, he was an active person, she was pretty sure that in the time they met  didn't see a single day of laziness, he kept his hands busy; When he was not on patrol, he trained, when he did not train, he devoted himself to research, or he cleaned the room, sharpened his weapons, or contacted Wayne Manor asking for an update on the events there.

"You must keep an eye on your enemies as well as your allies"

"We are talking about your family, Damian" she replied.

"It does not matter"

She raised an eyebrow "I would ask you about the scarf, but I don't want to insult your taste."

"This scarf is made to make me invisible to the cameras."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. Damian wouldn't appreciate laughter at his expense but she found it funny.

"Like a superpower?"

He rolled his eyes.

"It was designed by ..." He looked at the table, more specifically at the book interrupting what he was going to say. His eyes traveled from the object to Raven, as if trying to square two different things in a single scene and she never wanted to take it out of her bag. "It's from an online store” he corrected himself. " Now his voice was much more comfortable. "Many celebrities use it to make it impossible for paparazzi to take photos. "

She thought about it.

People had calmed down a bit, basically because Robin disappeared assigning missions in remote places, what surprised her most was that he did not protest. At first she had believed that negativity did not affect him, that he would turn off all opinions and focus on himself, but Damian had acted like a wounded animal, every time a camera pointed at his face he transformed into a more sullen version., He bit with his words when talking about his reputation and he left the Titans to be seen only in short periods of the day.

She had not seen him in a week.

"I didn't know you knew this place."

For a long time, she thought that Riva street was hers. It is not a crowded place, when you compete against luxury shops, festivals and fairs, a cobbled street taken from an old movie is not a great novelty.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Grayson said they wouldn't harass me here."

"Dick?"

Shrugged.

His shoulders had widened, and his muscles were protruding under the thin fabric, she was jealous that the material would embrace him highlighting the perfection of his body. His tanned skin darkened over the years from exposure to unprotected sunlight, he was strong, and he was acquiring new scars.

She looked at his hands, a collection of scars like silver threads running through his fingers, one of them going through his wrists. She wanted to know what had happened, to ask if it was hurting from the cold and if it really led the other way.

It was like a faded flower imprinted on his skin. A scar is a patch of skin that grows on a wound, insensitive to touch, but would he feel anything if she touched it?

Do not start.

"He named this street." Damian didn't seem very impressed, although his expressions are difficult to read. At first she found this frustrating, it reminded her of Batman's aura, a cloud that could not fade to see the true color, but his son was a green color like his eyes, but his exterior had been sculpted based on hard training, emotional manipulation, control and pain. The green is dull now, like dried moss. “He promised me that no one would bother me.”

She looked at the scarf.

"So that's just as a precaution and ... "

She was interrupted by the waiter carrying her coffee, a donut dusted in sugar and the house specialty, some delicious focaccias. She felt the tug of hunger in her stomach as the smell of olive and spices reached her nose.

Damian frowned.

"What? " She took a sip of the coffee; the drink was at its perfect point. The Costa restaurant is small, rustic with that stone façade and the chairs made of hand-carved wood; she felt the urge to defend it. "Yes, it is…"

"I didn't say anything." He grimaced. He would say it "I was just wondering why you were so quiet and serious in the Tower, while here you show more emotion to that donut than to the Titans,” he said.

He put the coffee aside.

He was right.

"You too have been silent."

Damian crossed his arms supporting his back. Titus played around a fountain, drinking the water and letting some children caress him, from here she felt the laughter and affectionate names that were dedicated to him and the animal bathed with love, its owner almost smiled. Almost.

Right now, he looks like he's getting his weapons ready for battle, his expression was determined and wild, and he must ...

"Is it because of Garfield?"

She steps back, and a bucket of cold water falls on her body.

"What? "

Uncertainty passed over her face and hardened her.

Why was he doing this? Raven sees a feeling, believes her powers have touched him, and would go deep, but instantly he blocks it entirely, his emotions and feelings painted under a dark canvas. He left her blind, only believing that her had the confidence to reveal a portion of himself.

She was surprised that he named her former partner, since he did not express interest in their relationship. Damian was non-sentimental; He would probably scoff at the honeyed explanations his older brother so badly wanted to get into his head; Jason would have a dirtier one, full of inordinate sex and add treason to it, just for the drama; Tim would give a talk about the chemical processes that were triggered when someone liked you, but he was not interested, he saw it as a necessity, a small distraction in his eternal crusade.

"Did you finish?"

As if that would explain everything, but what if it did? After the breakup with Garfield, she plunged into meditation, turning off her father's voice, but it followed her everywhere, repeating what she really was.

She became like thorns. If someone got close enough, they would only get a prick, there were no flowers in the first season or leaves in the summer, so she kept herself alone and promised that she would not be touched.

Garfield's face turned into punishment, if only she hadn't hurt him. It was too late, she is alert when he is close and knows why.

She really understood it.

Damian looked her in the eye. "I know it was a difficult breakup."

She looked down.

"It was. "

She did not lie, there was no need. Her affirmation was like a consolation, she just needed to let him go.

"I'm sorry. "

She raised her head. She never heard Gotham's bat son apologize to anyone, those phrases were not in his mouth, his tone was soft, like calm after a storm.

She smiled.

They shared a long look. At first, he looked serious, despite not wearing his Robin mask it felt like an eye mask, hiding the true emotion reflected in his eyes.

Damian smiled.

A dimple left on his cheek, and wrinkles formed around his eyes, making them look smaller, his expression softened, as if he had never been through torment. It was unlike any other smile she had ever seen, it was not arrogant, nor of victory or conceit; This was not the trained assassin destined to turn the world into a dystopia, he was not the angry and vengeful boy struggling to find a place next to his father, emerging as Robin, he was not the son of a famous billionaire, nor the hero that everyone hated, but Damian. It was soft and beautiful.

The first time he saw a genuine Damian Wayne smile was on Riva Street.

So, she knew she made a mistake and would never see Riva Street the same way. This street had represented intimacy, the beginnings and ends of novels, the best coffee she had ever tasted, flavors that she had not tried before, reflections and the smile on someone's lips. He had become entangled in her soul, the memories lost relevance compared to this moment and a feeling of fear of loss settled in her stomach, like a blow.

The story ends. Now.

Raven's smile disappeared from her face.

*** 

Raven had come up the stairs when the sun was barely caressing the mountains, a blanket hanging from her shoulders, a steaming tea floating behind her, and a book under her arm.

The roof of the Tower of the Titans gave a general view of the city. The blowing of the wind was strong, charging from the north, the color-degraded sky and a handful of stars remained in the sky.

Seagulls flew around the construction, squawking as if announcing the start of the day. The air was frozen, like sticking her head into a refrigerator and her nose was kissed by the cold.

Years ago, she read here, with the tranquility and amazement at dawn. Normally, the tower was full of noise, screaming, and disorder, making it impossible to read and struggling to find solitude around seven quirky teens, plus an alien princess with a tendency to incinerate food and her boyfriend with a highly activated parental sense.

It was a strange combination, but it works.

She sat on the floor wrapping the blanket around her shoulders holding back a shiver, sipped a shot of green tea, and watched the sunrise, amazed by the colors.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

The pad of her fingers caressed the illustration, noticing the relief and ink of the illustration of the egg sitting on a wall with little Alice watching.

"Do you think it will disappear if you don't take it?"

Damian sat still in Robin's uniform; his face shows cuts and the purple colors began to manifest in the high point of his left cheek.

"What happened? "

"Patrol. "

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Always so expressive.

She watched him "You look tired. "

He snorts, but doesn't contradict her, and that's a confirmation. Damian had been behind a gang of robbers, and was recently called by Batman while away for two weeks; Photos surfaced in magazines and on social media about the charity event bringing the family together in honor of Martha Wayne, without However, if Bruce Wayne summoned him it would not be solely for that, the vigilante was having to contain the Joker.

Raven knew that it required the whole family.

When Damian arrived, he was angry and spent all his time on patrol, so he was living with his brothers and he needed to get rid of the teasing, arguments and annoyance.

Three days later she has him in front of her with his legs trembling and sweat dripping down his forehead.

"You should sleep," she recommended.

He clicks his tongue and his chest rises and falls. "When I was seven years old, I was awake for four days, just feeding on the vegetation of the place and the river water. This is nothing to me. "

She imagines a child abandoned in the middle of the forest, hungry and starving. It doesn't seem like an achievement.

She grimaces.

"What? "

She chose not to express it. He could take it as a criticism, or get irritated., Damian is not known for his tolerance of others' arguments, especially when it comes to his past, and equally who is she to argue about his story?

"Nothing. "

She reread the book.

All the king's horses

And all the king's men

Couldn't put Humpty

Together again.

"It's one of my favorite rhymes," he declares sleepily.

Raven grimaces.

He is looking at her, his eyes struggle to close, and she can see the struggle to stay seated… If only he wasn't so proud.

An impulse makes its way inside her and she thinks of the teenager who gave her a book. The one who appeared on Riva Street accompanied by his pet, who spoke about poetry and rhymes when tiredness is about to knock him down. She takes off the mask, it is soft and almost feels like a mass in her hands, he protests, but he is are just babbling.

"I'm going to hit Drake and-" "He can't tell enough; his head falls and heshe straightens his brow several times. Raven almost smiled. "Father and… They almost kidnapped Grayson…" He tries to formulate a complete sentence, but the voice simply leaves him. Before he falls to the floor, she gently grabs his arm and helps him lie down on the floor and balls her blanket into a pillow. "I like rhymes. "

Laughter echoes off the roof.

"Are you always so chatty in the morning?"

He growls.

"I must have a poem around here." She opened the book. 

It is right in there

Betwixt and between

The orchard bare

And the orchard green,

When the boughs are right

In a flowery burst

Of pink and white,

That we fear the worst.

She took a breath to read the next paragraph when she was interrupted.

"Peril of Hope. Robert Frost. "

A memory greets her after years. When the world was almost over and her father had been inserted into the glass, she felt his stench emanating from that smallness, his power and evil in her palm, she could not be careless and silly like the last time; the world did not deserve destruction and her friends almost died, she agreed to stay in hell to protect them, but he convinced her as best he could, citing poetry by Robert Frost.

"You are full of surprises."

That permanent frown disappeared, and he buried his face in the blanket, closing his eyes.

She plunged into uncertainty for a few minutes.

She watched him sleep, muttering that she is not that girl and she would not fall so easily.

She drank her tea in one gulp.

He woke up an hour later, muttering and staggering to his room, he didn't go out all day.

Raven devoted herself to meditation, while Starfire and Dick trained together.

She could feel eyes from the other side of the room, even without opening her eyes she knew who it was. From a few meters she identified that aura and presence, the colors of his soul were a deep yellow like sand.

Garfield watched her apprehensively, as if aware of an unknown detail.

Her insides twisted like a worm, wanting to take his eyes off her. She just wants to push him away.

*** 

The next morning Robin appears on the roof, the next and subsequent.

Damian was there, she would have a new book waiting and she would feel that it became her new religion; They were like little children who shook their shoulders and tried to learn something new.

They don't talk much.

Raven drank her tea bathed in the rising rays of the sun behind the mountains, the wind would blow her hair in different directions and she would be covered by her thick blanket. She absorbed the silence when she watched him read Walt Whitman, Charles Dickens and Herman Melville after a night patrol where he hid from the eyes of the people.

No one has seen Damian Wayne in a month.

Robin is a vigilante who takes refuge in smoke and on missions with the Titans, would participate and walk away.

’’ Doesn't it bother you? ’” She asked one day pushed by bravery. Since the cancellation he was reserved, fleeing from the great masses and behaving like an invisible entity.

He didn't look up from his reading. "What are you talking about?"

’’ The hatred of people on the internet ’’

He frowned, processing her words. "The opinions of the despicable sheep are not worth it."

"You should print it on a card."

He smiled ‘’ ’I'm not an influencer, not a celebrity, Raven. I am a vigilante and did not need third party validation… I would just like to have privacy ’’

Raven understood that.

*** 

That morning it felt strange, like when you have a lump in your throat that is about to give way.

Damian had not returned for three days as he was on a mission with his brothers. Therefore, there were no conversations on the roof, books and herbal tea, lunches on Riva street and she realized how much she missed him. They did not spend all day together, she did not think about him for more than an hour, but she settled into her routine with those small and significant moments, they were pieces of her days that won against vacillations.

She was longing for more.

No one had to know.

In front of the Titans, two colleagues behaved as common as ever; there was a tacit agreement of silence between them. She discovered that she liked it that way. That she wanted that privacy, she said nothing, but she knew that for Damian's public life it is complicated that whatever they had was captured by a camera and exposed, stabbing the secret. Raven did not want to meet her face in teen magazines, or that they speculated around who she is, if she valued ​​anything in her civil identity, it gave her a sense of normality.

Raven was terrified; her father's voice followed her every morning as she made her tea in the kitchen before going up to the roof. He brought back memories of her previous relationship, distant and sad green eyes, which made her feel so good she wouldn't have to tear him apart. With each fight she had a reason to leave Garfield and there were many, and she didn't want him anymore.

She knew he would never do anything to hurt her, she knew his heart and his intentions, but love can make you see roses instead of thorns. She only knew love in poems, books and performances, they said that love is a brilliant thing, but it is ardent. She always tried to see herself through the eyes of another person, it made her feel less dirty and that there was this story where after suffering there is a person waiting, with her heart in one hand and a smile painted on her face, like a pink brushstroke.

Maybe it only works on humans.

Now she thought that love was a golden cage, that makes you feel that you live in luxury and have all the comforts of the world, but you cannot go out without a fight, without facing the person who made you forget about yourself.

Her father was no longer using insults to destabilize her, he became crueler bringing memories that she was fighting to bury. It led her to the frustration, heartbreak, and anger she felt after the discussions, her mind formulating justifications and judgments, and her breakup.

Standing in the kitchen praying because she was doing well, not regretting and avoiding remembering this as a big one: what if?

She knew that it was her father taking advantage of her fear, but she could not help thinking that it was much better to look the truth in the eyes and that part of her is happy that Damian is not there.

She hoped that it would take him long enough to forget his smile, burn his presence on Riva Street and go up to the roof watching the sunset reading in silence, without feeling that something is missing. She felt he was getting under her skin, between the cuts of her past with something she has not known and does not know how to fight it; Damian takes what he wants, his defense mechanisms react in time.

She expects him to stay away days, weeks, months, and even years.

I am the only thing you have, ungrateful girl. I'm the only one who stays.

She growled and murmured a quick spell, dulling his voice.

She realized that she doesn't just want to have her father as her company, she still has friends who show her love, and they don't care about her love life just because of her condition. That thought brings her peace.

Raven lit the kettle. It is still night when she creeps into the kitchen in her pajamas, and the thin blanket around her shoulders like a makeshift cloak; she needed a tea to fully wake up, she still felt the tiredness in her body and her eyes closed when she leaned on the table.

She was ready to watch the sunrise alone and considered going back to sleep. With or without Damian it had become a habit, it was her, what did she gain by clinging as if he were an extension? She was sure that Damian would not like someone to consider him that way, she was also finished with that topic. She was better alone.

Someone cleared his throat.

She felt hesitation and fear. She turned, watching Garfield stand at the kitchen door, hesitating instead, as if fighting to run away or stay.

A heart beats.

It is like rereading a book with an unhappy ending, she had seen this a million times. She had already given up, but he came back every time she was healing and would be weak to fall under his love, as if that would fill her, even so, she felt that the end point had already been written.

She filled her cup with hot water "I left you the rest of the water, if you want. "

"Raven," Garfield scratches his hair, unsure. His head was down. "Can we talk? "

She shook your head.

"I woke up at five in the morning with a purpose." His eyes are marked by dark circles and puffy from lack of sleep. She gives in (just a little). "It will be a moment. "

The young woman sat down at the table holding her breath. Her hands traveled to the cup embracing the warmth, and she begged all the gods and spirits of Azarath not to end up in the same place as a month ago.

Aisha, the spinning spirit of Azarath's love and suffering is laughing at her. The monks illustrated her as a lonely old woman who lives in the high mountains, where the sun always shines, pulling the strings of love from mortals and immortals. She is temperamental, if she thought you were good, she could entangle your thread of love with others the easy way, her fingers would do the braid with details, but if she decided that you didn't deserve it, then she would make a tangle between love and suffering, condemning another innocent person; her tutors were afraid of her, they thought they had to atone for any offense against the spirit. She thinks Aisha hates her.

She remained silent, and inert.

The silence is uncomfortable, it keeps and brings conversations, memories and secrets.

"I'm sorry. "

He Frowned.

Raven raised an eyebrow, still surprised by what heshe was saying. On more than one occasion she imagined that at some point he would apologize, but she did not expect his voice to break, to feel the pain reflecting on his face.

She did not know what to say. She was never good at sharing her feelings.

He probably already knew that.

"I was a terrible boyfriend," he said. She is empathetic so she feels his conflicting emotions, but one of them predominates more than the others: Guilt. "You didn't deserve it."

She is about to speak, but he interrupts her with his hands up: "Let me finish, please" He keeps his eyes down. Her hands play with a napkin, folding and spreading the paper. "I wasted what we had. Don't think I didn't love you, in fact I did. I wish I could have loved you better. " He shrugs "I hurt you. "

She grimaced.

Beast Boy pursed his lips "Now you keep your guard high when I'm around you and I know why. I'm sorry for so many things and I understand if you don't want to have anything to do with me" His hands tremble. "Before we were dating, we were friends and I didn't think about you. I just want you to know that I come back to those mornings every day and I feel horrible about how I behaved. You didn't deserve everything I threw at you when you tried, the arguments, I ignored you for days to come back to your door asking for a chance and you forgave me. I really understand yes ... "

Before we were dating, we were friends ...

I'm the only thing you have, ungrateful girl.

She takes his hand, this time there are no artificial lights or contempt "I forgive you. "

Raven really says it. She does not want to live alone having her father as a constant, it would be a sad constant and now he is angry, insulting her and screaming because she is weak, gullible and stupid, yet she smiles.

He opens and closes his mouth, surprised "Really? "

She nods "It's not like I have any other choice, we live in the same place. "

Garfield laughs and exhales a big breath, touches his chest feeling his heart and snorts "God, I thought you were going to hate me. Maybe you would curse me for all eternity. "

She rolled her eyes.

"Maybe I will…"

"Let's be friends again!" He dances around the kitchen, ignoring her words. He turns to yellow and white again. "It's cool, baby. "

Raven stands up, deciding it's too much. She embraced the book and used her powers to make the cup levitate with her footsteps.

"You are so loud."

He is smiling.

She walks to the kitchen door to watch the sunrise, but he knocks on it and she turns around.

"What wrong? "

“You deserve someone who reads Shakespeare or something like that with you and kisses the ground where you step," Garfield smiles. "You may be half demon and your father is a monster, but not everything has to be suffering. Love is not pain, Rae. "

Again, she doesn't know what to say or do, so she nods.

When she leaves the kitchen, she realizes that the lump in her throat that she has been holding since she got up, no longer exists. She feels light, like dropping a load and all the bumps, cuts and infections are healing.

She still has her struggles but abandoning one she did not collapse. Sometimes getting rid of one makes the bag not explode.

She needed that talk.

She needed to let it go completely.

As she climbs the stairs to the roof, she feels the rays of the sun entering from the open door, the light wind on her face and the squawk of seagulls, agitated in the sky that is a beautiful combination of pinks, blues and golds.

Her steps are delicate, like the fall of a feather and she thinks of the crow as more than a bird that predicts tragedies, or its black feathers the consequence of the wrath of a god.

When she opens the door, she holds her breath. Sitting on the floor writing on a pad is Damian, dressed in his civilian clothes and a bruise above his eyebrow, he carries a coffee and frowns every time he sips his drink.

His hands are quick on the sheet of paper.

She didn't know he would be here; thought he’d be away for a couple more days.

"You are late. "

She does not answer.

"Selina had a daughter."

She raises her eyebrows.

"I thought your father had more than one girlfriend." Damian looks up for the first time. He frowns. "You know, Playboy. "

So, it wasn't just a mission with his brothers, the Bat family just got bigger. Honestly, she thought the world couldn't take another Wayne, but she was wrong.

He does not say anything.

Raven sits on the ground next to him, keeping her distance.

"How are you with the arrival of the new member? "

"Good. "

Oh.

"Congratulations. "

They remain silent and she thinks that is all the information that she is going to be able to obtain from Damian. She opens her poetry book right where she leaves the separator, which consists of a withered sheet.

"My father is happy, even if he doesn't say it" He continues writing, only this time it is slower. The pen in his hand runs smoothly, as if reflecting. "I thought Selina would be a strumpet, that she would give him carnal relief and then leave, but my father seems… comfortable. Dick says it makes him less intense. "

Dick.

For Azarath, Dick must be overflowing with joy.

"How is she? "

Damian grimaces.

"Pink. "

She laughs "Yes, I suppose all the babies at the beginning are. "

"Helena is small, like really small, so much so that my father fears that she will break if one of us carries her." When she is not crying, she is sleeping or eating" he pauses. "Selina says the first few months will be like this. "

She Smiled.

"What? " He asks defensively.

"You like her. "

He rolled his eyes.

"To be honest, my chips were on the end of their relationship, but she stayed." He shrugs. Damian makes it look like an unlikely result in an equation. "Drake and Grayson won. I suppose I are well. I can do nothing but endure. "

Raven laughs.

"It's not funny." His tone is not angry, he doesn't turn that red warning tone and she knows that everything is fine.

She looks down at the book and takes a sip of her tea.

She looked at Damian, who continued writing in his notebook; The sun's rays bathed his face, his skin is tan, and his green eyes roam the notebook, concentrating on whatever he wants to capture.

She closes your eyes and feels the taste of herbs in the mouth.

She feels his shoulders collide with her, it's a warm and dangerous pressure. Each of her molecules asks for more, and she shouldn't be allowing this, but she doesn't pull away, nor does she stop her heart from running wild.

No one has heard from Robin in two months and the internet is focused on the following drama.

Damian Wayne allows himself to be photographed, but the paparazzi are not interested in selling photos of a scarf to the big gossip magazines, so they disappear little by little.

Raven left a relationship behind and hesitantly asks: What is it about him here?  

It is at this moment that he realizes that, if she bleeds, he would be the last to know.

[somelazyassartist]

HALLOWS IS FROM A DIFFREND DIMENSION?! that’s so po g g e rs

Yeah, sorta! She grew up in the Feywild, which is basically an alternate dimension of the Material Plane (the closest equivalent to our world) but the Feywild is pretty much made entirely of magic!! Magic is in everything it touches!!

That's part of the reason Hallows is so out of place in the Material Plane! She's a Fey Eladrin, which is essentially an Elven subrace that can be traced back centuries to when normal Elves from the Material Plane were forced to take refuge in the Feywild and after generations of living in a world made entirely of magic it slowly genetically mutated them into the kind of Elves seen in the Feywild now; inseparable from the magic in their blood, they have been warped into such a bastardized version of the Elven race that it's debatable if they even count as one anymore, their bodies physically melding with their emotions and the magic in their DNA to cause them to feel every emotion and the switches between as vividly as they possibly could, and to change their appearance and powers along with it, adopting traits of the seasons. Some may stay with one season all their life, such as Hallows' parents, though some like Hallows change whenever they see fit, though most adjust their season to match the season of the world around them.

Again, it's debatable if Fey Eladrin even count as Elves anymore. Aside from the brightly colored and ever-changing appearances which are the most outwardly obvious signs of how different they are from Material Plane Elves, their eyes glow in the dark and reflect light, they have the ability to set themselves on fire at will, teleport themselves and others, and have the innate ability to charm or frighten their foes.

Eladrin, from what I've read, typically don't concern themselves with Humans or the Material Plane that much (I personally headcanon that some Eladrin think of Humans the same way Humans think of monsters under someone's bed or cryptids and whatnot but I just personally think that would be funny). So just as how the residents of the Material Plane are freaked out by Hallows, Hallows for quite a while was freaked out by them in return, as Hallows' kind was rarely- if ever- even seen outside of their home, let alone living away from it! Eladrin are NOT native to the Material Plane, and the Material Plane doesn't have the magic required to have naturally evolved a species like that, so it's extra obvious how much of a genetic anomaly she is compared the the people around her.

The opposite version of the Fey Eladrin are the Shadar-Kai, Elves from the Shadowfell. Instead of ever-changing bold coloration, they have muted and near monotone palettes consisting of mostly grays, blacks, whites, and sometimes very dark or pale blues and purples. They are physically unable to feel emotion, unlike the Eladrin who feel every emotion as intensely as possible. Instead of being one with nature and the seasons as the Eladrin are, they wear metal and tough leather, often wearing chains and spikes and having many tattoos and piercings.

Xgjvkbkbjggx I'm sorry I sorta rambled but yeah I really like D&D lore and the Eladrin are one of my favorites to research!! I genuinely find their history really interesting and I thought it would be fun to play a rogue that couldn't help but stand out in a crowd, and it was fun so yay!

[flowerwrites06]

diamond trail II — myg

Plot: The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Yoongi x Consigliere!Y/N

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: Mafia | Marriage | Mature Themes/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: criminal activities, mentions of past abuse (outside of the pair), explicit smut (spanking and very brief anal play), mild violence, coarse language, prostitution. 

Authors Note: the planning got a little wack but i think i’ve got it down now. hope you enjoy this part and make sure a like/reblog/comment go a long way! 

Morning turned dull and dreary as the cloud hung heavy in the sky. The driveway darkened from and the grass shimmered from the thunderstorms last night but the weather didn’t relent in its greyness. You wore a deep emerald sweater dress, black coat and warm hat while the guards prepared your car.

Yoongi stayed quiet throughout the entire ride, hand still holding yours. Except his mind wandered to mentally prepare himself. Gang leaders don’t always agree to meetings nor do they end up well for anyone. You were the glue that held them together at this point.

Consiglieres’ normally always have good connections but your web was unbeatable. The amount of time you were able to keep Yoongis’ business on the down low and manage to keep it running in the same line. It was one of the reasons he fell in love. The aura of magnetism around you that attracted so many to trust you. Aside from your looks, the way you spoke and held yourself was something any experienced gang leader would be careful not to test.

Their meeting was in a neutral zone. In the private basement of Petunia Valley, a small florist shop situated near the outskirts of the city. Namjoons’ car already arrived to the scene. Daisy, the owner, had some trouble with gang members in the past. She came to you for some aid and you suggested that making a front for Gae Pa would put Daisy under their protection. Making it an act of war or treason if gang members attacked her.

She’d been safe ever since which gladdened your heart.

As you and Yoongi entered the flower shop, Daisy gave you the biggest smile. “Ma’am! It’s good to see you.” She bowed.

“Everything’s ready for the meeting.” You nodded towards the stairs.

“Yes, ma’am.” She nodded enthusiastically. “The tall man with the shades came in. I’ve given them some jasmine tea to calm themselves since he looked antsy. No funny business or fights though.”

You smiled and patted her shoulder. She looked so much happier than the crying girl with bruises littered on her face three years ago. “You’re looking well.”

Her pale cheeks flushed in pink. “All thanks to you, ma’am.”

Another car pulled up at the entrance.

“Let’s get this over with, sweetheart.” Yoongi gently rubbed your arm. He gave an extremely brief smile to Daisy before guiding you down the stairs.

Thankfully the basement had a faint floral scent to it with that tiny hint of fertilizer than you both hoped wouldn’t get too pungent as the hour passed. Namjoon sat at the wooden table, tattooed hand clasping the adorable pink floral cup with a clear grimace on his face. Clearly that jade bracelet messed with his head as much as the diamond gun did Yoongi.

The shades were probably to hide hangover or lack of sleep. Or both.

You sat at the head of the table being the meeting coordinator. One of Namjoons’ bodyguards poured you a cup of tea by his boss’ request. “Thank you.” You smiled.

“I’ll have some too,” Yoongi said.

“Get your own fucking tea.” Namjoon narrowed his gaze.

“Gentlemen.” You warned, spreading silence between the two leaders. Taking the teapot, you poured a cup for Yoongi and gently placed it in front of him.

Jimin walked down with three bodyguards crowded around him. He sat on the far end of the table, purposely ignoring both Yoongi and Namjoons’ presence. Being the only leader without a sigil or history, he must’ve been trying to keep an air of intimidation up. “Let’s get this over with.” He straightened out his coat.

“Ass without a sigil thinks he can scare us, Min.” Namjoon scoffed. “You believe that?”

“No I don’t, Kim.”

You sighed in slight exasperation. “I’ve called you three here because our reputations are being toyed with. By an elusive thief who is trying to create tension between the gangs.”

“Would you really consider that ones’ business as a gang?” Namjoon tilted his head to Jimin.

“I work and have significant influence and following in the underworld. So yes, it counts as a gang.”

“I was asking the real gang consigliere, kid.” Namjoon smiled bitterly.

“Namjoon…he’s right.” You explained to the best of your thinning patience.

“You might have to explain things to him a little slower, my lady.” Jimin smirked. “He tends to focus more on the curves of your breasts than anything you say.”

“Little brat wants to die today,” Yoongi seethed, teeth grinding.

Jimin scoffed, plump lips curling upwards. “This is a neutral zone. You can’t kill me unless you risk this entire flower shop getting burned down.”

“I’ll decide what happens to this shop and the ones who harm it, Mr. Park.” Your gaze sharpened on the man. “I’m sure your wife and kids wouldn’t appreciate having their vacation stopped short because you wouldn’t play nicely in a meeting.” All Jimins’ bodyguards standing ready to fight and the man himself holding a clipped tongue, lost for words. “Bora Bora, is it? Lovely place.”

Jimin bit down the insides of his cheeks, chest rising and falling as frustration twisted his usually pretty features. He raised his chin to maintain his pride. “Continue.”

Yoongi tried to hide the impressed smirk that desperately tried to tug at his lips.

“Thank you.” You tapped the side of your cup. “I don’t have enough information to pinpoint a culprit yet but it is definitely someone notorious to like chaos in the country. Our best lead could be to suspect Jwi Pa but it’s too obvious.”

“Don Byeol doesn’t really share her grandfathers’ viewpoints anymore,” Namjoon said. “If we had another Sapphire Assassin scandal on our hands, we’d probably all be dead by now. This thief wants us to die by killing each other by your theory.”

“Is it really for power if it’s so indirect?” Yoongi asked. “The way this guy’s working is like he just wants the chaos for sport.”

“Why don’t we just settle our differences now?” Jimin asked.

“‘cause you’re refusing to give me my sisters’ bracelet, dumbass.”

“I bought it fair and square.”

“There is a way I can get more information. During a charity event, I heard that a street gang leader rose up to the ranks by killing the Don of Mal Pa. A sort of revolution since the previous Don was getting a little too obsessed with creating piles than actual influence,” you said.

Mal Pa hadn’t been too popular ever since Don Chun Hei passed away. She didn’t have a lot of children so the leadership moved to underbosses and then associates. The meaningfulness of the gangs’ importance subdued and eventually became obsolete. However, the gang was still alive and apparently running under unknown leadership. It was a good place to start.

Except you would have to dig deeper if you were looking into a mystery gang like this. You’d have to visit him.

“I know an information broker who might be able to gain a lot of information of Mal Pa and the thievery itself.”

Yoongi didn’t need too long before his expression softened in realization. “Absolutely not.”

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Namjoon asked.

“He asks for information as his currency. Keeps his connections strong so you can only work with him a few times in dire circumstances.” The last time you had to gain information on the large robbery in Gae Pa and had to tell him that your father and brother were still alive in Singapore. “He can help me track down the thief. He might even be able to name him exactly.”

Yoongi curled his fingers into tight fists. Kim Seokjin. Always asking for the right things to keep up his popularity and wealth. Information can get you anywhere from the top of the most expensive building to the bottom most slums of the city. The country ran on it and Seokjin was one of the monarchs who owned it. “Is this the only way?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Even Namjoon and Jimin stayed quiet, unable to really comment on the matter. The only person at risk in this situation would be you. You knew all kinds of information but there were different promises and deals made in terms of spreading news on people and networks in the underworld.

Yoongi stared at you in silence. A mixed look of concern and anger twisting his features. Just let it this be over.

***

Seokjin knew what he was doing when he made the deal. Best way to gain power without being seen is to take advantage of the one with the most connections. You were the top tier.

Another storm poured down into the city the same night as you travelled to Seokjins’ favorite restaurant. Road glistened like polished obsidian, reflecting the pink neon of the entrance sign. You drove in alone but measures were taken to ensure your utmost safety in the matter. With a deep breath, you walked through the restaurant with an air of confidence.

Seokjin sat at the booth, tapping the side of his sherry glass. When he noticed you arrive, a wide grin tugged from ear to ear. “Darling!”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the nickname. The tall male reached in and kissed both her cheeks softly before relaxing back onto the black booth.

“I haven’t heard from you since that massive robbery. Have you been purposely avoiding me?” Pillowy lips jutted into a pout.

“I have to keep my peoples’ funds in check. You tend to ask for a high price even in casual visits.”

Seokjin chuckled, the warm lights casting an eerie shadow on his eyes. Black orbs of a demon. “I’m a bit of a workaholic.” He shrugged. “So what did you need tonight on such short notice?”

You waved your hand for a drink. “Someone is trying to create havoc with two gang leaders and a restaurant chain owner.”

“Ah yes, the robbed auction. The underground newsletters were brimming.” Seokjin failed to hide the excitement flooding through his veins as his face turned smug. “So much anger. Two dreadful murders already.” He looked at his nails with a forced saddened expression. “So gory, your people.”

“Well—” Your eyes flickered up to the waitress who gave you a cup of earl grey tea.

“On the house, ma’am.” The waitress grinned before turning on her heel.

“So terribly famous.” Seokjin smirked.

“My suspicions are on Mal Pa. I had a theory since the leader used to be in a street gang. There’s a lot of whispers that they have some kind of vendetta to all gangs. It’s a good place to start without getting traced.” You didn’t want to voice those rumors to Yoongi or Namjoon since it had no basis yet. But with the way Seokjin smiled at you knowingly, you knew that was a lead.

Thunder struck, silver bolt flickering against the blackened sky. You used the warmth of the tea to bring you some comfort even though all you really wanted was to snuggle up in bed for night. “You know something, yes?”

“So long as you understand the natures of this transaction.”

Anxiety crept at the back of your mind, like thorn vines climbing up an aged building. More thunder boomed across the skies almost making you jump. You blinked slowly and breathed deep. “I do.”

“Good,” Seokjin said. Long fingers intertwined, business stance with a ready breath. “Jeon Jungkook.”

“Jeon Jungkook?” You shook your head.

“That’s the current leader of Mal Pa. A former street goon who was apparently asking for the previous gang leaders’ aid. They refused so Jeon took it upon himself for justice. Got a bunch of people and trashed the entire place. Killed the Don along with it.” Seokjin traced the brim of his glass. “If anyone has an agenda against the Dons of this country, it’s him.”

“How do I get in contact with him?”

Seokjin laughed like you spoke the funniest joke in the world. “Sweetheart, even if you offered your body and soul to the man, he wouldn’t talk to you. He hates the higher ups.”

“I wasn’t always a higher up.” Your origins started in the streets just like Jungkook. The smell of garbage and cheap perfume lingering in the air. Hiding in the closet with earbuds while mother worked. Taking over the family business and expanding your horizon with nothing but the clothes on you back and sweat on your skin. “Is there a way I can get through to him?”

Seokjin sighed. “For a man with a supposed higher purpose, he visits this courtesan house quite regularly.” He grabbed a napkin and wrote down the name of the establishment. “If you meet him there while he’s high on opium then you might be able to gain some information.”

“Nectar Oak.” Your heart jumped up to your throat. How long had it been since you saw or heard that name before? The feeling of their silk uniform still lingered on your skin.

“I understand this is no strange place to you,” Seokjin spoke.

You swallowed the small lump in your throat. “A thing of the past.” You buried the napkin into your purse. “What’re your terms?”

“I’ve asked this of you before. Information on a gang leader requires a hefty price. You can’t delay me any longer since we found out about your father and brothers’ hideout.” That same sinister smirk tugged at his lips. “What were the true terms of your marriage with Don Min Yoongi?”

A cold flood washed over your form, welcoming unwanted twists and lurches in your stomach from the time years ago. Time when things weren’t as warm as they are now. You kept a steady face, the corner of your lips twitching just the slightest. “I was a worker at the courtesan house,” you spoke softly. “Before they pay you for customers, they train you with different workers in the house. My first real customer was Yoongi. He was very kind but distant.”

You took a deep breath. “One night he came in and he said that he was going to reserve me. I didn’t know customers could truly do that. It meant he paid for everything and I got to spend time outside of the house. Working in a place like that, you tend to gain many connections and information very easily. It allowed me to earn a place in Yoongis’ radar. He’d come to me for information and personal activities.”

Seokjin took a tiny sip of his sherry, eyes fixated on you like the excitement would stop if he blinked.

Sadness loomed over your face. “I got pregnant. I told him as soon as he arrived to the house.” You sucked in your bottom lip. “He looked so happy…but—then he never came back again. For seven months, I never saw him. I already prepared to have the baby on my own until one morning, he came back. I learned that Gae Pa was going through a power struggle. When Min Areum murdered the Don, there was chaos. Questions on whether Yoongi deserved to have power—but then my pregnancy created all the more chaos.”

“He came to me and told me that he needed help.” You smiled a little to yourself. “He knew I had people I could talk to help with the associates trying to harass Yoongi. But I had to be part of the family. So he married me. We signed a legal agreement and I took down all the associates who dared to threaten Gae Pas’ true heir.”

“So the most popular couple in the underworld—” Seokjin rested back on the booth. “—is a marriage run on business and convenience. Not love.”

“I didn’t say there wasn’t any love.”

Seokjin hummed with a slight smile. “I’m sure there is.”

You suppressed the need to roll your eyes as you stood up from the booth. “Pleasure doing business with you, Kim.”

“Be sure to give Yoongi my love!”

***

“No, no, no. Absolutely fucking not. Not a chance.” Yoongi kept blabbering as the news finally reached the room. He curled up the sleeves of his white shirt, roughly raking through his hair. He turned and took a deep breath. Trying to protest more before turning away again in light stammers. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re not killing anyone.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

The maids were ordered to work on the bedroom quarters while the living room reserved for their little argument. Yoongi clasped onto his hips, shaking his head. “We’re risking too much, baby. I don’t think it’s worth it. Even my mother would slap me in the head if she saw this.”

“It’s not just about the gun anymore.” You padded closer to him, rubbing his arm. “There’s a high chance he’s gonna try something else. Something worse than a robbery. It’s already happening, there’s been two murders. We can’t wait for that to happen to us.”

Yoongi let out a deep sigh, nerves still aching from the tightness but at least information was registering in his head again. You were right. Jungkook could have Namjoon or Jimin assassinated in an instant. The underworld will be able to trace Gae Pa down immediately. Right now, he was playing but it could very well get serious and bite them back in the ass for ignoring it. “I just hate that you have to go back there again. Wearing those same clothes.” He swallowed down thickly. “You’ve done so much to get me out of problems and now it’s almost back to square one.”

You reached in and kissed the back of his neck. “It’s not gonna be like last time. We’re stronger now. And this is my home as much as it is yours.”

“I know—”

“So I’m going to protect it no matter what. Okay?” You moved so you stood in front him, nose nudging against his. “We’ll protect it together.”

Yoongi smiled, cupping your cheeks and kissing you on the forehead. “What did you ask you for?” A part of him didn’t wish to know. The fear of personal information in the slimy hands of that weasel made his insides lurch but he knew the weight would lifted off of you.

“Our terms of marriage.” You smiled sadly. “How it actually happened.”

“Did he ask about the baby?”

“Actually no—he seemed pretty satisfied with the story itself.” Or Seokjin figured on what might’ve happened if their child wasn’t public nor were there any rumors of a Gae Pa heir.

“We’re not talking to him ever again.”

“So long as we don’t get into trouble.” You chuckled under your breath. Even entertaining the idea of a trouble free life was too idealistic.

“Then we’re never getting rid of him.” Yoongi sighed.

Fear still lingered, twisting his stomach in knots at the events to come but his mind knew better. You were both stronger than the time Yoongi was taking the chair as Don. This was a small bump in the road. Nothing more.

<< prev chap | next chap >> 

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 20 of 26

Title: Wolf by Wolf (Wolf by Wolf #1) (2015)

Author: Ryan Graudin

Genre/Tags: Alternate History, Historical Fiction, Dystopian, Science Fiction (...ish?), Young Adult, Third Person, Female Protagonist, Duology

Rating: 8/10

Date Began: 7/12/2020

Date Finished: 7/18/2020

In an alternate 1956, the Axis powers of the Third Reich and Imperial Japan won World War II. They host an annual motorcycle competition known as the Axis Tour, in which young people from both powers race across Europe and Asia. Yael, a death camp survivor with the ability to skinshift due to Nazi medical experiments, poses as Adele Wolfe, Germany’s only female competitor. Her goal? To win the race, get a private dance with Hitler, and assassinate him for the world to see.

But years of training and preparation are thrown off balance when Adele’s past relationships come back to haunt Yael in the form of her twin brother Felix Wolfe, and the presence of Luka Lowe, a fellow competitor and former victor, both of whom have complicated, unknown histories with Adele. Now Yael must keep up the charade while still assuring her victory in a difficult and deadly inter-continental race. 

Who are you? (On the inside?) 

The answer to this question was something Yael had to fight for. Her self-reflection was no reflection at all. It was a shattered mirror. Something she had to piece together, over and over again. Memory by memory. Loss by loss. Wolf by wolf. 

Minor spoilers under the cut. 

Wolf by Wolf was a surprise; I did not expect to like it nearly as much as I did. While it has a fascinating premise, it's certainly complicated enough to mess up. Alternate history, especially World War II, can be sketchy if not done well. Add in some science fiction elements, and I was skeptical. But while Wolf by Wolf isn't perfect, Graudin does pull it off rather well, and it was thoroughly enjoyable to read. She states in her author’s note that, with the troubling rise of alt-right movements in recent years, books that examine the true horrors and implications of Nazi ideology are important, and something like this could have very well been our world. I find myself agreeing, and I think she treats the subject with both the delicacy and brutal honesty it requires. 

The novel’s inherent suspense is excellent. Wolf by Wolf has all the appeal of a spy novel with an extra layer that comes with the skinshifting aspect. All of Yael's interactions with the other leads (Felix and Luka) mean they genuinely think she's Adele, and it's interesting to see how Yael struggles to play the part. There's a lot of tense moments where she says or does something that Adele wouldn't, and she has to use her wits to get through it. I like the "becoming the mask" trope and it's in play here as Yael finds herself becoming attached to the other characters. The inherently fantastical element of skinshifting does protect her, as almost no one would guess it's why Adele is acting odd, so the fact she's able to keep up the ruse despite everything does make sense. That being said, I would have loved to see someone, especially one of the two male leads, figure it out. I spent the novel wondering how a scene like that would play out, and was disappointed it doesn't happen. There are certainly multiple teasing fake-outs. Presumably this will be A Thing in the next book, but it's still something I wish had paid off here rather than consigning it to the sequel. Semi-related, I found the ending twist and callback pretty interesting, and it has some fascinating implications for said sequel. I guess we'll see what Graudin does with all this material. 

Probably the strongest aspect of the novel for me, personally, is how the book balances flashbacks. I think Graudin does a fantastic job (with some exceptions) doling out information, and gradually revealing Yael's backstory and pain points. Unsurprisingly, her past is heart-wrenching in a variety of ways. The part where her mother doesn't recognize her and the scene with Vlad and the numbers hit me especially hard. It's satisfying when the full implications of a symbol or line of dialogue aren't revealed until much later in the story. For example, the wolf tattoos are introduced early (literally the second chapter) but the emotional payoff is gradual, and I think that strengthens the impact. The pacing in general is really well done-- slow when it needs to be, and action-packed at other times. This is something I struggle with even in books I adore, so I’m really impressed with how this book handles it. 

YA gets a bad (often undeserved) rap, and I adore the genre when it's done right. Unfortunately many YA novels fall into trends and tropes that just get annoying after a while, so I find I have to be selective. For the most part Wolf by Wolf avoids these. Yael is a distinct, interesting character who avoids typical YA protagonist cliches. Her tragic past is all the more poignant for being something real people faced (albeit with creative liberties), and her struggles with identity are extra compelling. That being said, I didn't find the romantic subplot with Luka very interesting. I think there's supposed to be some narrative tension where he seems to be a bad guy but has Hidden Depths etc etc... but it was so painfully obvious that I guessed his entire arc based on the first scene. I think there's some potential considering the Yael/Adele dichotomy, but again, it doesn't really pay off in Wolf by Wolf, which is a disappointment. The few romance scenes just take away from the more interesting base story. From what I can tell we get more of Luka’s backstory and perspective in Blood for Blood, so... fingers crossed that I can appreciate him more in retrospect? In general I found Yael’s interactions with Felix more interesting and genuine.        

As for the writing itself, I'm torn. This novel makes heavy use of symbols, and consistently incorporates them into the prose. Usually, this is done to great effect, and there are plenty of excellent poetic and introspective passages. There's also stylistic elements such as heavy repetition and an occasionally-bolded INTERNAL MONOLOGUE. I also noted a lot of dramatic irony and narrative callbacks, which always hit with a punch. When these aspects are done well, it's great. But sometimes Graudin just doesn't seem to trust her readers. There are multiple incidents where the story REALLY wants you to know that X Symbol Means Y Thing and accomplishes this by... just telling you. There's also some clumsy expository dialogue that's jarring to read (very much "as you well know, this thing is true"). These may be in the minority, but are especially noticeable because the rest of the book is subtle about it. No idea why some parts are just like that, and this might be a nitpick, but it really bothers me. Young adults aren't stupid, and it's annoying when YA novels assume they need their hand held. As I said, it only happens a few times, and I am willing to look past it considering the other strengths of the novel.

Wolf by Wolf has its faults, but overall I had a great time reading it. The ending has some fascinating implications, so I'm interested to see what happens in Blood for Blood. From the brief preview at the end, it looks like we get more backstory for Luka and Felix, which I think might smooth over some of my criticisms depending on how it’s handled. I guess we'll see! 

[littlegalerion]

Doing two forms, one for Aithilo and one for Hirchire.

Name:

Aitholo Raamando

Race:

Dunmer

Gender:

Male

Hair Color:

Dark satin red

Eye Color:

Pink

Complexion:

Lighter gray-toned

Body Markings:

Tattoos of wines with leaves on his torso and arms

Height:

Relatively tall for a dunmer

Mortal Parent:

Rasulu Raamando

Their influence on the their child:

Aithilo was inspired by his late mother's desire to travel and learn of all the knowledge Tamriel had to offer, as well as her patience and hope a trace of good nature laid within every soul.

The demigod's opinion on their mortal parent:

Aithilo never met her, as she passed after giving birth to him, but the stories his uncles and father would tell him brought him a sense of wonder. He always hoped to be as optimistic, open minded, and resilient as his mother.

"Mortal" Parent 2:

Divayth Fyr (adoptive father)

Their influence on the their child:

He made sure Aithilo received "education standard for his breeding", which meant apprenticeship to Fyr for most of Aithilo's young life. Divayth was always firm, persistent, and prideful of Aithilo, but also a good listener and shockingly patient, despite the many things he and his son clash over.

The demigod's opinion on their mortal parent:

Aithilo is well aware of his father's flaws. He dislikes Divayth's sharp tongue, stubborn temper, and flirtatious appetite. However, he also admires Divayth's shameless studies into the planes of Oblivion, and him not caring what other dunmer think of him.

Divine Parent:

Sotha Sil

Their influence on the their demigod:

His influence was his absence. Sil chose to not claim Aithilo, and so none if Sil virtues were reflected upon his son.

The demigod's opinion on their divine parent:

Upon learning the truth of his real father, Aithilo became sickened, and harbors a bitter resentment towards the Tribunal. He disagrees with everything Sil teaches, and never refers to him as "father".

Divine Parent 2:

Lorkhan

Their influence on the their demigod:

Lorkhan is Aithilo's 2nd true father. He shares no blood with him, but a spiritual connect perhaps thicker. The Tribunal, which means Sil, stole Lorkhan's power, and as Sil fathered Aithilo, Lorkhan's power was inherited by him. Unlike the Tribunal, Aithilo has no need to steal power. His immortality and limited but still divine powers are his own.

The demigod's opinion on their divine parent:

Aithilo is extremely frightened and cautious of his connection to Lorkhan. They sleeping god has tormented Aithilo with nightmares of the god's death, of Nerevar' death, and Lorkhan's heart itself whispers to him whenever he sets foot on Vvardenfell. Eventually, Lorkhan attempted to totally possess him, especially once the heart was destroyed. Aithilo only survived and overcame the possession with the help of Trechire and Fyr. Ever since, Lorkhan has remained quiet, but Aithilo knows that he is still there, somewhere, waiting for the next promising opportunity.

Demigod's childhood home(s):

Around Grahtwood and in various homes with Divayth has the two traveled.

Demigod's current home(s):

Ebonheart (a rented room) and in Western Skyrim

Demigod's relatives (both dead and alive):

Uncle Raiynes: His mother's brother, who left their Ashlander tribe with her as they both wished to learn the schools of magic without restraints.

Uncle Arncano: Raiynes' husband, an altmer noble who moved to coastal Valenwood after a family out with his family.

Setheso: Aithilo's daughter, the Nerevarine, through an unnamed dunmer woman.

Demigod's relationships towards relatives:

His uncles raised him up until he was eight, when Fyr insisted Aithilo was old enough to begin an apprenticeship. Aithilo loved his uncles, and misses them a great deal ever since their peaceful passings.

Setheso is precious to him, though he was absent throughout her young life. He will forever feel guilt for that, and will forever try to become worthy to refer to himself as her father. Setheso is indifferent towards him, but becomes hostile if he tries to form any sort of close family bond. The irony is not lost on him that he is essentially his own blood father, Sil.

Demigod's view on mortal political affairs:

Aithilo participated in the Three Banner's War, though more so by flying under no banner but going where he was needed to help peasants and common folk who were affected by the war. This was in both Dominion and Pact territories. He even reluctantly worked with Alamalexia for a brief time.

After that, he never took part in politics again, except for matters in Black Marsh when his friends needed his assistance with uniting or pacifying the various tribes

Demigod's own personal beliefs:

Funny enough, Aithilo reveres Sithis. He picked up this practice from his argonian friends, who worship Sithis as the bringer of constant change. Sometimes in the form death, but not all change is bad. Aithilo deeply values this mindset, and can not fathom a world of absolutes.

He also does not eat vegetation, as he has a respect for both Y'fre and the Hist, though he is well aware the Hist does not demand such things. Still, eating vegetation seems award to him. So he is a full blown carnivore.

Demigod's personal goals in life:

To be a better father, to assist other half-divine individuals like himself, and to hold on to the weird family he has seemingly attained over the various centuries.

Are they single:

Yes

Their partner:

He's an ace, but does keep close, intense frienships as he craves companionship.

Steady or fragile relationship:

Steady. As long as he is able, he will always try to keep a strong friendship going.

《《••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••》》

Name:

Hircine

Race:

Altmer-Daedra mix

Gender:

Male

Hair Color:

Cinnamon Brown

Eye Color:

Blue

Complexion:

Copper-gold skin

Body Markings:

Fawn colored patches with white dapples splashed over his body. Has antelope horns.

Height:

Very, VERY tall. Taller than a tall altmer.

Mortal Parent:

Trechire Galerio

Their influence on the their child:

Raised Hirchire throughout his entire childhood, mentored him when he joined the packs, and to this day visits with him and is supportive.

The demiprince's opinion on their mortal parent:

Hirchire is extremely close to his mother, overprotective to the max. He didn't take well to her husband Eliindil mantilng Sheogorath, and for the longest time didn't know how to react to his demiprince half brother Kirr. It's only due to his love for his mother that he isn't hostile.

Divine Parent:

Barbas

Their influence on the their demiprince:

Hirchire was concieved due to Barbas attempting to fool Trechire, masquerading as someone she loved. The idea was to take it incredibly far, then reveal himself and watch her spirits break again. Clavicus Vile always grows bored every century, and his favorite pastime had become stirring trouble with one of his bigger rivals.

However, Trechire caught on to the act early, but pretended to be fooled. When she became pregnant, she sought Hircine, and dedicated the demiprince to him, if he would accept it as his own. Hircine agreed because what huntsman wouldn't want a fluid shapeshifting hound bred straight from one of his most prized hounds??? And so Trechire is the one who fooled Barbas and Vile, revealing to them she had played them and carried a demiprince, which humiliated Barbas and enraged Vile.

Barbas has never interacted with Hirchire, and most likely never will.

The demiprince's opinion on their divine parent:

Hirchire doesn't consider Barbas his father, and so refers to his simply another daedric being with which he has no interest in.

Divine Parent 2:

Hircine (adoptive father)

Their influence on the their demiprince:

Hircine was more than eager to accept this demiprince as his own, and saw to it Trechire raised him as true hunter, one who would serve him for all eternity and even help to maintain his realm. Hirchire is his best of the best-of Hircine sends him after you, then know Hircine will have your head on his wall.

The demiprince's opinion on their divine parent:

Hirchire is loyal to Hircine, sharing his mother's respect for him, as well as a bold nature to even question Hircine at times, which is what made Hircine value Trechire in the first place. Everything Hirchire does is for Hircine' honor.

Demiprince's childhood home(s):

Valenwood (near Reaper's March)

Demiprince's current home(s):

The Hunting Grounds

Demiprince's relatives (both dead and alive):

Rinyu: Elder Half brother

Sunnabela: Elder/Younger Half Brother

Kirr: Younger half brother, fellow demiprince

Eliindil/Sheogorath: Step-father

Demiprince's relationships towards relatives:

Hirchire is on great terms with Rinyu, but towards Sunnabela and Kirr he isn't so social. Kirr is the son of one of Hircine's great rivals, and there is considerable jealousy over the young demiprince in Hirchire's heart, as he liked being the only demiprince offspring of Trechire's. Sunny is always around Kirr, so that doesn't help Sunny.

Hirchire at first was neutral towards Eliindil, but once he mantled Sheogorath now Hirchire no longer speaks with him for obvious reasons.

Sadly, Hirchire was born after Vanus and Caafire's passing, so he never met his grandparents.

Demiprince's view on mortal political affairs:

Not interested at all, unless it affects his packs or hunting grounds.

Demiprince's own personal beliefs:

A true hunter doesn't chase weak prey. A hunter always strives for the best, and seeks a fair hunt. Anything less and you are no better than a common dog chasing chickens on the farm. There is no satisfaction, just a stupid and primitive gratification that means nothing unless you wish to be a basic beast.

If which case, you aren't Hircine's hunter, but a throw away pawn.

Demiprince's personal goals in life:

Bring honor to Hircine, protect his pack mates, live up his mother's legacy among the packs.

Are they single:

Yes

Their partner:

None, but is welcome to the idea

Steady or fragile relationship:

Somewhere between if he had one.

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Ancient Wisdom Revealed: 5 Hidden Magical Knowledge That Can Transform Your Life

We are usually amazed when we discover hidden knowledge related to mysticism, magic, and witchcraft. Not only does this ancient knowledge enlighten us but it can also help us understand the very essence of our being. However, most of the times valuable magical information and insight are hidden right before our very eyes. We simply need to know where to look.

“Secrets have a way of making themselves felt, even before you know there’s a secret.” – Jean Ferris

It’s true that this is World which has never actually cut off from the Old Ways. In fact, so many things we still do, reflect on the Old Religion and our Witchy Ways. Therefore, we decided to publish an article, on all weird things that actually got Pagan Origin or even Witchy! This is going to be really really fun!

Magical Knowledge Hidden in Plain Sight

“It is hidden but always present.” – Laozi

The list is endless. We could keep going on and on about it but we chose 5 facts which make more sense to almost anyone.

1. Why do we Wink to signal about secret knowledge?

A Winker actually signals the Winkee that they share or s/he is about to share some secret knowledge. It’s not obvious why or what it is, but this is a sign to immediately question reality. This is an awakening call. If you really think about it, it’s already pretty weird.

Wink & the one eye of Odin

Odin is the mighty and wise father of Norse Religion. God of Wisdom, Healing and Victory he is beloved in all germanic traditions. He is famous for his thirst for Wisdom and magical knowledge. According to one story, Odin was traveling again in his quest to expand his awareness. One day he ventured to Mimir’s Well, located beneath the world tree Yggdrasil. The Guardian spirit of this well, whose wisdom and magical knowledge for the Realms was unprecedented, greeted Odin. Odin asked for some water.

I know where Othin’s eye is hidden, Deep in the wide-famed well of Mimir; Mead from the pledge of Othin each morn Does Mimir drink: would you know yet more?

I know where Othin’s eye is hidden, Deep in the wide-famed well of Mimir; Mead from the pledge of Othin each morn Does Mimir drink: would you know yet more?

The mystical creature knew exactly what Odin was asking and he tried to make it as hard as possible. Thus he demanded his eye. Odin was asking for true and absolute wisdom and the price seemed fair for the Guardian. However, Odin gave it instantly and the Guardian gave the God of Wisdom what he was asking.

Hidden Magical Knowledge of Wink

In many ancient depictions, and due to the fact that Odin has one eye, he seems like he’s winking. This is where the ‘wink’ came from. As Odin lost his eye for hidden truth, we reenact his divine sacrifice by winking, to signal someone for secret knowledge.

“The only secrets are the secrets that keep themselves.” – George Bernard Shaw

2. Why do we give the ‘middle finger’ to insult someone?

Greeks understood the power of sex & sexuality, thus sexuality was part of each God’s powers. Thus, the ‘Phallus’ aka the erect penis, was a symbol of great potential, a power which could fight every demon, reverse bad luck to golden opportunities and create a new and successful beginning in everyone’s life.

Middle finger represents a phallus – a magical symbol

Indeed, the middle finger represents an erect penis. The middle finger also is known as “digitus impudicus” or “the impudent finger”. Saint Isidore of Seville explains in his Etymologies that the third finger is called impudent because it often expresses vexation, insult. But why?

“A graceful taunt is worth a thousand insults.” – Louis Nizer

This rude gesture actually dates back to ancient Greece. This was a sacred and magical gesture – something like a Mudra. Greeks used it to instantly counter any negative activity and dark arts that targeted them. Just like the statues of Phallus in crossroads and anywhere, they did it to repel dark magic.

Therefore, by ‘giving the middle finger and insulting’ the receiver we actually attempt to bind his/her power against us.

3. Why are Days Seven?

Have you wondered? Why aren’t the days of week 5 or 10 or 12? Why 7? Is there special power in it? Well YES!

Seven are the Days, Seven are the ‘Planets’ of ancient Witches

In the ancient World, astrologers and mages worked with the energy of the ‘7 Planets’. These 7 celestial bodies – which are not all planets – embody the diverse magical forces and energies from which everything is born into creation. Each ‘planet’ has a distinct vibration that can be directed and channeled in every magical work.

Each of the seven Days of the Week represents each of the ‘Planet’ of Astrologers and Witches which of course correspond to one God.

Monday is the Moon’s Day, day of Artemis / Diana – Goddess of the Moon

Tuesday is Tyr’s / Ares / Mars’s Day – God of War

Wednesday is Woden’s / Hermes’s / Mercury’s Day – God of Communication and Knowledge

Thursday is Thor’s / Zeus’s / Jupiter’s Day – all God of Lightning although Zeus is also King of Gods

Friday is Freya’s / Aphrodite’s / Venus’s Day – Goddess of Beauty and Love

Saturday is Saturn’s / Krono’s Day – old God of Time

Sunday is Sun’s / Apollo’s Day – God of the Sun

4. Why do we make Tattoos?

A tattoo is an ancient form of art appearing in different ancient cultures throughout history. Our modern word ‘tattoo’ comes from the Tahitian word tatau which means “to mark something”. Does this remind you of something? Maybe the Witch Marks?

“Tattoos are like stories — they’re symbolic of the important moments in your life.” – Pamela Anderson

Tattoos are in fact Witch Marks

Tattoos are similar to the Marks of the Witches. It’s a sacrifice we make to our bodies in order to connect deeper with what the symbol we chose represents. An eternal mark on our mortal bodies which can also pass through our incarnations. So please, before you decide which tattoo to do on your body, choose wisely the meaning and symbolism!

5. Why do we wear our wedding ring on our ‘ring finger’?

Haven’t you always wondered? Why do we choose to put our Wedding Rings on the ‘Ring Finger’? Well, as you can understand, the name of the finger itself actually implies its participation in Wedding Rituals.

Why a Golden Ring on Ring Finger?

This part of Wedding Rituals actually dates back in ancient years. First of all, the Ring symbolizes the Wholeness and Unity. It’s the perfect shape of Alchemists and it’s linked with Ouroboros – the symbol of eternity.

Now, why on Ring Finger? This finger is associated with the Sun and Apollo, the god of all blessings. When we ‘activate’ this finger we actually activate the power of the Sun and Apollo in us. As every ‘Planet’ is associated with one Metal, the Sun and Apollo are associated with Gold. Thus, to properly activate the Ring Finger we need to wear a Golden Ring on it. Check more on how to wear Rings to pursue your purposes here!

Therefore, in Wedding Rings, we conjure the blessings of Apollo and the Sun, the bring timeless happiness.

“Secrets are made to be found out with time.” – Charles Sanford

Esoteric wisdom can help you transform your life and the lives of your loved ones. Once you know how to access and decode such ancient knowledge, you can get a better understanding of different religions, practices and spiritual self. Now that you have gained some valuable insight, use this hidden ancient magical wisdom to build a happier and more purposeful life.

Post originally published on Magical Recipes Online

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5 Hidden Magical Knowledge That Can Transform Your Life

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Magical Recipes Online

Magical Recipes Online consists of a core team of 4 people who have dedicated their lives to bring Magic to a wider audience, to teach and to be taught, to help everyone in our World tap to the Great Source of All Things and bring happiness and love into their lives. We are everyday ordinary people who have lead extraordinary lives. We have heard our call to Magic from a young age but followed different directions.

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How to Decode Emotions In Text Messages: 6 Effective Ways To Get Started

“How do you decode emotions in text messages?”

Text messages can often be very confusing. It can be especially challenging to understand emotions when we communicate through text messages. With the lack of facial expressions and body language, we can often misinterpret the intended message and tone resulting in disastrous misunderstandings. So how can we read emotions in texts? Let’s find out.

“What is a moderate interpretation of the text? Halfway between what it really means and what you’d like it to mean?” – Antonin Scalia

It’s easy when people say they are angry or sad or excited, or if they tack an emoji to the end of a text. But when they don’t? Given that even face-to-face communication can be confusing, it should not surprise us that truncated, dashed-off text messages can result in disastrous misunderstandings.

In the age of technology, we not only need to decode in-person interactions, but we also need to decode textual transmissions.

How do we know what a person is feeling when we can’t see their faces or body language?

Here are six tips to help you better decode emotions in text messages, or at least prevent yourself from jumping to conclusions based on scant evidence.

1. Assume good intentions

In general, text messages are short. We have very little information to work with. A smiley face or series of exclamation points can help assure us that the text is meant to express positive emotion, but texts do not always include these extra emotion indicators. Our friends’ busy schedules lead to abrupt messages, and our partner’s playful sarcasm isn’t always read as playful.

Keep in mind that texts are a difficult medium for communicating emotion. We have no facial expressions or tone of voice, or conversation to give us more information. If the text doesn’t say, “I’m angry,” then don’t assume that the texter is angry. We are better off reading texts with the assumption that the texter has good intentions. Otherwise, we may end up in lots of unnecessary arguments.

“Texting is a fundamentally sneaky form of communication, which we should despise, but it is such a boon we don’t care. We are all sneaks now.” – Lynne Truss

2. Cultivate awareness of unconscious biases

In my research, I have had to train numerous teams of emotion coders. But even trained coders who meet weekly to discuss discrepancies don’t agree on which emotion (or how much emotion) is being expressed. People just do not see emotions in the same way. We have unconscious biases that lead us to draw different conclusions based on the same information.

For example, every time I lead a coding team I am reminded that males and females often differ in how they interpret others’ emotions. If Bob writes: “My wife missed our 10-year anniversary,” men may think Bob is angry, while women may think Bob is sad.

I don’t presume to know exactly why this is, but I can say confidently that our emotion-detection skills are affected by characteristics about us. When it comes to detecting emotion in texts, try to remember that our unconscious biases affect our interpretations. The emotions we detect may be reflective of things about us just as much as they are reflective of the information in the text.

3. Explore the emotional undertones of the words themselves

The words people use often have emotional undertones. Think about some common words—words like love, hate, wonderful, hard, work, explore, or kitten.

If a text reads, “I love this wonderful kitten,” we can easily conclude that it is expressing positive emotions. If a text reads, “I hate this hard work,” that seems pretty negative. But, if a text reads, “This wonderful kitten is hard work,” what emotion do we think is being expressed?

One approach to detecting emotions when they appear to be mixed is to use the “bag-of-words” method. This just means that we look at each word separately. How positive are the words “kitten” and “wonderful”? And how negative are the words “hard” and “work”? By looking at how positive and negative each word is, we may be able to figure out the predominant emotion the texter is trying to express. Give this bag-of-words method a try when you are having a hard time figuring out the emotion in a text.

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Ancient Wisdom Revealed: 5 Hidden Magical Knowledge That Can Transform Your Life

About The Author

Dr. Tchiki Davis

Tchiki Davis, Ph.D., is a consultant, writer, and expert on well-being technology. She has helped build happiness products, programs, and services that have reached more than a million people worldwide. To learn more about how Tchiki can help you grow your happiness & well-being, visit berkeleywellbeing.com

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