#their conversations are way worse than this

[lady-yfrit]

I couldn't agree with this more.

Going to make this a soapbox moment for this time because I've thought along these lines for a while but was never able to put it to succinctly and accurately as these two posts.

Like yeah, fuck these people and all of the fear and pain and suffering and outright deaths their cult causes, they deserve to be cussed out and ostracized.

But ultimately... do we want the emotional satisfaction of cussing them out like they deserve?.. Or do we want them to stop supporting their cult, and for that cult to fall out of power and never return?

People are stupid, stubborn, selfish animals, insult them, threaten them for what they vote for and they'll just dig in harder.

I mean just consider if say libertarian tried to convince you to vote their way by calling you insults and calling you a commie and all sorts of things. Now consider if they just had a conversation with them where they laid out their values with minimal judgement. Which one of these two is more likely to get you to consider their point of view?

It's not fucking fair that they don't see it on their own, that they won't register the fear and pain that their support of the ideology causes, and that the insults that I too feel the need to think of will just make everything worse, that the only way to make things better is to try to be far more patient, understanding and graceful than many of them are, in a way that many of us can't.

But that is how it is.

And ultimately we get to decide if we want to pick fights with them wherever we see them because it makes us feel better, or if we want to try to invest the effort to change their minds and try to build a better tomorrow before they all die of old age.

I don't blame anyone for not having it in them and just feeling violent and angry or threatened and afraid or any number of combinations of negative emotions, because you frankly should feel these things with people that support an ideology that has it out for you, but ultimately when it comes to your direct environment and people you interact with online... just try to consider the posts above.

If you decide to have at it anyway, fair enough. But if all things considered you're willing to not get into it with somebody...

Might I give some advice:

Not everyone has (or needs to have) the energy to thoughtfully respond to republicans on the Internet. You do not have to do that.

But some people do, and can. And I think we gotta let them.

An example:

I have a former teacher, I'll call her Grace, who is an incredibly kind woman in her 70s. Devout catholic, had voted for various parties over the years, but has been pretty strictly democrat over the past 15-20 because that aligns with her values of kindness and service.

She shared a post about the pope's recent letter and expressed that she agreed with his concerns about how trump is treating immigrants. A friend of hers commented a long paragraph basically saying "dear Grace I care for you but I don't understand how you can be a Christian and a democrat. Blah blah abortion blah blah gender blah blah drugs."

Grace replied "I'm very busy right now but I am going to respond to you soon with my thoughts". When she did it was an incredibly generous, rational monologue that connected with this person's humanity, their shared religious values, and made a beautiful case for why she supports who she does. I didn't agree with a good half of what she said as I am not a Christian, but the result was an expression of values that I think put her on the side of justice and compassion.

The person replied and thanked her and said she had a lot to think about. It was probably the best case scenario for a Facebook politics conversation

You know what came very close to ruining it? A bunch of (mostly younger) people piling on with "fuck you you racist maga pos" and "no one has to explain anything to you, go to hell" etc etc. Even after Grace wrote that she intended to reply herself.

I watched this republican respond to all the easy, quick insults by saying "this is why I don't think any democrats can be Christian, this is how you all speak to me." If Grace hadn't put so much work into writing her response in a way that was tailored to fit this person, I would not be surprised if that person left Facebook doubly certain that Christian nationalism is the way to go.

I'm not saying we can't cuss out jackasses. I'm not saying everyone needs to respond to bad faith arguments like Grace did or use their time like she did.

But this was on Grace's Facebook page, and interrupted the work she already volunteered to do. Just so these individuals could feel like they "did something" and got a shot off at an enemy.

I think that's selfish and childish and unproductive. They could have said anything they wanted in their own space, but they made grace's job harder for no fuckin reason. And then "loved" her reply and said "that was beautiful Grace, thank you for sharing your thoughts"

Like... Buddies. Pals. If someone volunteers to scrub the toilet fucking let them.

[rhyrhy]

Fuckboy abby! Save us Fuckboy abby! Save us Fuckboy abby! Save us Fuckboy abby! Save us x100

FB! Abby Drabble

࣪𖤐.ᐟ Warnings: Fuckboy! Abby, sexual tension,..raw next question. 1.5k words, Quarter back x cheerleader trope.

࿔ A/n: Based on these asks.

You wanted to go home, wash your makeup off, and throw yourself on your sheets. Yet here you sat, in the middle of a frat party. You hated events like these, especially sober. The booming bass in your ears, the humid, almost sticky air on your skin. The way-too-bright lights and, worse, the students falling over each other. Why do you let your friends drag you along? No clue. But as part of the cheer team, skipping meant endless nagging in the group chat, and you weren’t in the mood for that. You never were.

After settling into the living room, you figured a joint would help you zone out until, Dina, and the rest of your ride were ready to leave. At some point in the night, you found yourself face to face with a semi-familiar presence: campuses one and only Abby Anderson.

She’d been throwing looks your way all night. You knew her type. Kissing and quitting. And you weren’t interested. But Abby found her way onto the couch next to you, striking up conversation like it was effortless. Of course it was calculated, but you indulged her, partly anyway.

At least you didn’t want to be anyway.

𖤐.Unbeknownst to you, though, you were judging this 6’0-something book by her cover. If you’d really been paying attention, which is impossible to do considering how well she covered it up. But The gym, practice, study, sleep cycle kept her sane, gave her something to focus on. And it worked, until you. Until freshman move-in day, when she saw you for the first time and brushed it off as just another pretty girl on campus. But then she found herself lingering on your social media, scrolling a little too long, just…staring at certain pictures. And when she saw some of her teammates following you, her upper lip twitched in irritation.

𖤐.She avoided you after that. Acted like you didn’t exist, because it was easier than dealing with the way you made her heart hammer against her ribs. The way she wanted you. The way you got under her skin without even trying. But when she saw you tonight, she told herself fuck it. If you weren’t going to make a move, she would.

A few jokes exchanged, a couple of lingering glances, and then, somehow her fingers found their way under your chin, tilting your face toward hers. Your breath caught. Her grip was firm but gentle enough for you to wiggle away from, almost like she was seeing what you’d do.

She was close. Inches away. Heat radiating off her body. So close that you could see the defined collarbones peeking through the neckline of her jersey. Her gaze dragged over your features like she was committing them to memory, and when her blue eyes finally locked onto yours. You weren’t one to look away from eye contact easily, but this was like she was trying to find something.

The music pulsed around you, shifting into something by The Weeknd. Which was definitely not helping. The slower beat only made time stand still. You didn’t move. Why would you? She came over here, convinced you’d fold like every other girl who fell at her size 10 cleats.

But you weren’t going to. You couldn’t.

You were almost certain, though, that if she closed the gap, you’d 100% kiss her back. And that? That would be a problem. If she closed the distance you’d definitely tug her closer until the only thing you could smell was her. So instead, you rolled your eyes and leaned back, your hair spraying on the sofa. breaking the moment.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Abby chuckled, her ego slightly bruised as her hand dropped from your chin. A dramatic lip smack followed.

“Because I don’t want to fuck you?” you said, taking a slow drag from your joint. “Or because I’m not entertaining you?”

“Shit, both.” She shrugged. She slapped herself mentally for not saying a different answer. She knew she was coming on way too strong but she knew nothing about you, and now was worried she wasn’t even your type to begin with. So now she had to double down.

“Especially the first one, though,” she added, dragging her eyes down your outfit before flicking back up to your face.

“Gross,” you scoffed, even though you definitely had the idea cross your mind once while she was sitting so close.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Abby huffed, tossing her head back against the couch. She let a beat of silence pass before turning to you again. “What’s your deal, anyway? You a prude? Or just straight?”

“What if I’m just not interested?” you shot back.

Her lips twitched, head tilting slightly as she studied you “You aren’t?” Something about the way she asked made your heart thud. Like you’d just challenged her. Or maybe, maybe you’d actually caught her off guard. Regardless You didn’t answer fast enough. Her grin widened, teeth showing, like she was reading your mind. Shit. Are you? No. No, of course you weren’t. But yeah, you’d let the silence stretch too long.

Abby hummed, turning her head back to the front. “Sure you aren’t,” she mused. Praying you’d correct her. Feeling her heart sink a little when it didn’t come. You were still trying to find a reply when Abby interrupted, almost like she couldn’t bear the silence.

“So,” she said, her voice still infuriatingly calm, “What’s your major? Or are you just here to shake your little pom-poms?” Abby hated to admit it, but she was actually trying to make conversation with you now. Her first approach clearly wasn't the way to go. Sure, she could just be nice and drop the act, but that would be lame. This is more fun.

You furrowed your brows at her comment before realizing you were still in uniform. A laugh ripped out of you as you replied with your major. “And I won’t be shaking anything, thank you.” You added, taking another slow drag.

That actually got her attention. She tilted her head back to give you a once-over, arching an eyebrow. She repeated your major like she was testing the word on her tongue. “That’s…” A pause. She studied your face, trying to see if you were kidding before she shrugged. “Nerdy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather me throw a ball around all day?” you huffed, rolling your eyes at her.

“Aww, you jealous, sweetheart?” Abby smirked, her tone dripping with mockery as she shifted closer on the couch. She was almost fully facing you now, her body angling toward yours.

You shook your head in amusement. “Fuck no, I’m not,” you mocked back, sing-songing the words. “Cute thought, though.”

It was Abby’s turn to roll her eyes, but the smirk on her face never fell. “You’re a real smartass, you know that?” She leaned back against the couch, draping an arm across the back, her fingertips inches from your shoulder.

“And you can’t take a hint,” you shot back, scanning her outfit as you took another drag.

“And you’re full of yourself,” she retorted, her eyes flicking toward your hand as you passed her the joint. Her fingers brushed yours as she took it, sending an involuntary shiver up your spine.

She hummed in acknowledgment, bringing the joint to her lips. A moment later, smoke curled from her mouth and nose. Her knee remained pressed against your thigh, solid and warm. “But if you’re gonna check me out, at least be subtle about it,” she teased, voice slightly gravelly from the smoke. She handed the joint back, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

You scoffed. “You wanted me to see you so bad, so I’m doing that. You complaining now?”

Abby exhaled sharply, a quiet laugh. “Holy hell, you’re annoying.” But her gaze lingered, on your face, on your lips, you.

“Yeah?” A slow smile spread across your face. “Good. Maybe you’ll run a play and leave.” You jabbed, gesturing to another couch.

She glanced over then back to you. “You wish.” Abby flashed another grin.

You let out a short laugh. “I’m not taking the bait.”She smirked, her confidence unshaken. You looked away and continued “You are tempting, though. I won’t lie.”

Abby’s smirk widened, like she’d been waiting for that. She moved her arm from the back of the couch, fingertips lightly grazing your shoulder, then trailing down your bare arm. Her touch left a warm path in its wake. “Just tempting?” she asked, her stomach twisting. Her eyes flicked down to your lips, the tip of her tongue wetting her own.

You glanced at her hand on your arm and sighed dramatically. “Just. Tempting,” you confirmed, shifting your gaze back to her face. Her hair draped across the couch, the school’s blue jersey stretching over her broad shoulders. “You’ll survive, though.”

Abby hummed, tilting her head to look up at you fully. Her hair fell messily across her forehead, and her eyes danced with a mix of amusement and something else..maybe a hint of genuine interest?

“Just survive?” she echoed, fingers continuing their light, teasing trail down your arm. She moved closer, the gap between you nearly nonexistent. “What if I want more than surviving?”

You didn’t move. Didn’t let her see you sweat. “Not about you,” you mused, setting the joint in the ashtray. “This is my show, girly.”

Abby chuckled, the sound sending another shiver through you. Her fingers skimmed higher, tracing the side of your neck.

“Oh yeah? You’re in charge?” she murmured. Her other hand came to rest on your hip. gentle, but almost possessive. Her thumb brushed slow circles over the bone there.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. Instead, you raised a hand, catching her chin between your fingers and pulling her just a fraction closer. “I am. And I said this ain’t happening. So knock it off, Anderson.”

Abby’s smirk faltered for just a second, her breath hitching—but she didn’t pull back. If anything, she leaned in, just slightly, her gaze steady on yours.

“Ooo, bossy,” she muttered, voice quieter now. There was a certain edge to it, though, like she didn’t actually mind. Her grip on your hip tightened, her thumb still tracing slow, lazy circles. Her eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes. “I’m starting to like it” she added.

And you hated the way your stomach flipped when she scooted even closer…

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

22.5 Behind closed doors

— 2 weeks ago.

Presentation Night, Thoma’s topic: “The morality of Bro Code.”

Thoma takes care of people.

As a result, he became observant. He notices the smallest details—the minor habits, the niche stories, and the embarrassing moments. It’s what makes him a good listener, a great companion, and a big brother.

It’s what he does best.

So naturally, he knows.

He’s aware of the longing glances. Of the silent conversations. Of the late night calls. Of the subtle matching posts. Of the back of his head silently screaming, “Punch Ajax in the face.”

It began with a hunch.

1. Dawn Cafe

“Thank you for the picture” and “You’re welcome” captions both posted on the same day, within the same hour—Thoma chalked it up as coincidence. Childe didn’t know you and you didn’t know Childe. Thoma imagined it was the girl from the swim gym. That somehow the girl had agreed to meet up with the ginger. It didn’t have to be you. It couldn’t be you. Childe was in a cafe and you were in an arcade… with someone else… someone who wasn’t Navia or Charlotte or Kaveh or Lyney… and most importantly someone who wasn’t Childe. He was sure of that. It had to be a coincidence.

2. The Orphanage

On halloween, Childe went as Nicke Wilde and you went as Judy Hopps. Thoma chalked it up as another coincidence. It was a popular movie, it’s easy to capitalize off of. Then, he heard of the orphanage. Thoma knew Childe always went there. The ginger was fond of kids. He had brothers and sisters of his own as sly and mischievous as him. So there was no surprise. But Thoma heard you were also going—and you were dressed as Judy Hopps. It was bound for you and Childe to meet—if you hadn’t already. That thought became a nagging feeling. Thoma wasn’t so sure anymore.

3. The Wallpaper

Childe wouldn’t stop talking about the mysterious girl. He kept rambling about her like there was no tomorrow. He was never like that with the other people he dated, because they always liked Childe more than Childe liked them. But this was different.

They were all sitting around the couch playing a console together when the doorbell rang. Their pizza had arrived. As if on instinct, Childe rushed to grab their meal, leaving his phone, face up next to Thoma. That’s when Thoma noticed the digital copy of a photo strip taken at an arcade of you and Childe dressed in characters from a movie he doesn’t think he can watch again without being reminded of his close friend and his sister, intimately intwined.

4. Gift Exchange

Thoma wanted to test the waters. In other words, he wanted to be sure. So he dragged you along with him to find the perfect gift for the ginger. To get an insight on how you felt. and it was worse that he imagined. Even from on-lookers, it’s obvious how much you liked Childe. With the way you asked questions and the thoughtfulness behind the gift. You looked happy and he felt bad for wanting to beat up his friend. If you were happy, then Childe’s face would be safe. But if you weren’t? Well that’s a secret for his fist to deal with.

But behind closed doors, Thoma watches a new one open.

He ends his presentation with that.

“Kaveh would’ve loved this.” His audience of two claps.

NOTES:

surprise? double update 😱 (is there a third one? actually idk if i’m gonna finish it in time, don’t count on it.)

this takes place before the party, so they were all plotting… except for kaveh. don’t be fooled, thoma is still inching for a punch… just one

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back.

CHILDE X FEM!READER

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[revelboo]

Last Night the bumblebee x reader fic is so yummy I need more of it(you will be seeing more of me now so here is my emoji combo)-👑🐝

Bee is a sweety

Last Night Pt 9

Bumblebee x Reader

• Servos brushing your leg, you watch him cringe. Making you more determined to find out what fragging is. Especially with the way those other two bots had frowned. Is it scandalous? There’s not a ton of entertainment to be had in the Ark, and a bit of scandalous gossip? You’re all for it. “Come on. You have to tell me, because I’m not letting it go,” you say with a grin and he loudly vents at you. “What’s fragging?”

• “Not so loud,” he groans as bots turn to look at him. Of course, you’re not letting it go. And what are you going to think of him if he admits some Cybertronians are interfacing with humans? You’re just now comfortable around him, no longer flinching when he handles or picks you up. “Some Cybertronians- Decepticons, are doing stuff with humans they’ve captured.” Dancing around actually saying it, because he’s uncomfortable with the idea. Humans are just so delicate, fragile.

• “Torture?” You ask, drawing your legs up as you perch on his shoulder. Laying a palm on him, you shiver. Can’t really see his face where you are against the side of his head, but he sounds unhappy. Miserable. “They’re killing them aren’t they?” How many people have they taken? Stomach lurching, you lean against his helm. Those poor people. Wants to ask if he can’t do anything to save them. To free them. But that can’t be right. That bot had been whispering about you and Bee fragging. So not killing. What else could it be, though to make him this uncomfortable?

• Door wings flicking, he groans. “No, I mean, I don’t think so?” Killing humans is definitely worse than fragging them, but he still vents tiredly. Tempted to let you believe that’s what’s happening rather than have to explain this to you. You’re finally starting to trust him and it took forever. Doesn’t want to scare you off. “Fragging isn’t killing.” Say it. Just say it. “It means interfacing.”

• “Okay. And that means?” You ask. Because Bee is getting more and more uncomfortable by the second. Interfacing? You’re coming up with nothing trying to guess what he means by that. His little door wings lift slightly as he groans. ‘It means,’ he mumbles, sounding almost pained. ‘Well, it means, mating. Does that word translate?’ Choking, you’re glad he can’t see you right now. Your brain just refusing to try to figure out the logistics of how giant, alien robots and much smaller humans can even do that. And survive. Do they? Horrified, you shut your mouth and lean back further out of sight. “Okay,” you manage weakly, remembering that other mech laughing and speculating on if you and Bee were fragging. Oh. Don’t ask. Just let it go and pretend this conversation never happened. “How does that work exactly?” You ask almost against your will.

Previous

[callikari]

TWEETS TO RiKi — nishimura riki

7. am i COOKED!!!

you were sitting in the living room, your phone in your hand as you scrolled absentmindedly through social media. the conversation with your friends earlier weighed heavily on your mind. it was the first time you had openly admitted to them that you were falling for riki, and the more you thought about it, the more the words haunted you. how long had you been in denial? how long had you pushed down the feelings because you were too scared of messing things up?

it all felt so complicated, especially now that riki was flirting with leeseo. and the fact that he still thought decelis anon was her? that made it worse. you sighed, tapping away on your phone again, your fingers hovering over the screen. but you didn’t send it. you just stared, trying to calm your nerves.

you were distracted, though, not realizing that your phone was left open on the couch when you stood up to grab something from the kitchen. riki, quietly returning from the hallway after a meeting with the committee, wandered into the room. he stopped when he saw your phone screen—your confession to your friends was staring back at him.

idk if i like riki because it would be weird if i do since we were friends since FRESHMAN YEAR!!! and hes talking to leeseo when im talking to soobin AS FRIENDS ??? its soo wrong to see him in this way and its soo hard to even face him whenever im in the dorm with him

he stared at the message for a moment, blinking in disbelief. his mind was racing. she likes me?

there was no mistaking it now. his heart skipped a beat. and before he could second-guess himself, he looked up to find you coming back from the kitchen, completely unaware that he had just read your text.

“yn,” he called out, his voice soft but loaded with curiosity.

you froze, your heart sinking. “riki…?” you asked, feeling the tension rise in the air.

"is this true?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm as he walked closer to you. he pointed at your phone, his gaze focused on you now. “did you just say you like me?”

your stomach dropped, the words you never intended for him to see now hanging in the air like a weight. “riki, it’s not—”

“don’t lie,” he interrupted, taking a step closer. “just tell me the truth. i won’t be mad. i promise.”

you were torn between wanting to avoid this conversation and needing to let it all out. this is it.

you sighed, your gaze softening. you couldn’t lie anymore. “yes,” you said, barely above a whisper. “i like you, riki. i have for a while. and… i don’t know what to do about it. i didn’t want to admit it to myself, but here we are.”

riki stood there, frozen for a beat, as if trying to process what you just said. his lips parted, but nothing came out. you shifted nervously under his gaze, unsure of what to expect.

the silence stretched between you two, suffocating.

finally, riki spoke, his voice low. “i… i don’t know what to say.” he scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the floor, still processing. “but you— you like me?”

“yes,” you whispered, feeling the words hit you harder than you expected.

riki looked at you again, and for a moment, it felt like everything was suspended. his brow furrowed slightly, and he let out a quiet breath. “this is… a lot.”

you looked at him, your heart racing. did he not feel the same way?

he hesitated, glancing away for a moment. “i don’t want to mess this up, yn,” he muttered. “but… i’m not sure where to go from here.”

you nodded, trying to make yourself as small as possible in that moment. “it’s fine,” you said quickly. “i understand.” you hated how vulnerable you felt, but this was what you needed to say, even if it didn’t end the way you hoped.

riki, however, shifted closer to you, a softer expression on his face. “i don’t want to make things weird,” he said, voice gentler now. “but i’m not sure how to deal with this either.”

“yeah, i get it,” you said, giving him a small smile. “i guess we’re both confused.”

he chuckled, but it was a little strained. “yeah… but please don’t shut me out, okay?”

your heart fluttered a little at his words, even though there were no clear answers. “i won’t,” you said, trying to sound as steady as you could.

riki gave a small nod, his hand brushing against yours. it wasn’t much, but it was a quiet reassurance that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

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AUTHORS NOTE — ooo whats next !!!!

TWEETS TO RiKi — @parkjjongswifey @stormy1408 @paradiseoflosers @blodwyn4u @lov4hoon @gyuudai @kittsnewera @rikidaze @notcamii @annybah @jvngw0nlvr @r1naqv @pkjay @nishikio @rairaiblog @stta-princess @haechology @aerijns @miniw0nz @httpzsho @athenaisonlinee @rikiscupid @starbyeol1512 @sunooqvrlsx

[kathaelipwse]

Stuck With You

Masterlist

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Pairing: CEO!J.Yunho x Secretary!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine

Warnings: Smau, Fluff, grumpy yunho, bickering, teasing, jealousy?!, tension-

Word count: 1.0k

Author's note: Hie lovies! I hope y'll are fine! Take care of yourselfff!! Enjoyyyy!!

Chapter 5: Tension Wrapped in Silk

The morning started with Yunho practically fleeing the bed and straight to the bathroom tho he tried to be very gentle and careful to not wake you up.

One second, you were warm and tangled up in your blankets, and the next, you were stirred awake by the abrupt loss of heat behind you. When you cracked your eyes open, Yunho was already out of bed, moving around the room and then straight off to the bathroom like a man with something to hide.

Correction: like a man running away.

You frowned, rubbing your sleepy eyes. What the hell was up with him?

By the time he emerged, showered and dressed, he barely looked in your direction. He cleared his throat and muttered a rushed, “Morning.”

That was it. No other words.

You quirked a brow. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Liar.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was embarrassed. Flustered, even.

Which was weird, because it was Yunho, the one who barely even smiled.

Shaking your head, you decided not to push it. If he wanted to act weird, that was his problem.

But as it turned out—his problem was about to become yours.

Hours later, after dealing with event organizers and catching up with emails, you finally changed into your outfit for the evening.

It was a business event, so your dress was classy, elegant—professional.

But it was also a little more form-fitting than usual.

You stepped out of the bathroom just as Yunho was finishing adjusting his cufflinks, his eyes focused on his reflection in the mirror. He looked refined as always—black suit, crisp white shirt, silver rolex glinting under the hotel lights. Sharp. Effortlessly intimidating.

But then he turned.

And froze.

His fingers halted mid-movement over his cuffs, his entire posture stiffening like he’d just been sucker-punched in the gut.

You barely held back a smirk. “What?”

Yunho swallowed. Once. Twice. Then blinked—as if forcing himself to reset.

“Nothing.”

Nothing, my ass.

Because suddenly, Yunho wasn’t looking at his cuffs anymore.

He was looking at you.

And not in his usual, observant, calculating way.

No—this was different.

His gaze dragged over your form, heavy, slow, darkening with something unreadable. The way his eyes lingered, the way his lips parted slightly—it was dangerous.

Something about his stare made the air feel thicker.

And it only got worse when he cleared his throat, snapping his attention back to his cufflink like it physically hurt him to keep looking at you. “We should go,” he said, voice slightly rougher than before.

You smirked. Interesting.

-- At the Event

Yunho was acting weird.

Not in the awkward, avoiding-you kind of way he had been this morning. No.

Now? Now he was hovering.

You noticed it first when you were talking to a few executives. He stood beside you, silent but present. At first, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Yunho always exuded a certain dominance in a room. His presence alone was enough to command attention.

But then, when one of the men laughed a little too much at your joke, Yunho shifted closer.

Then, when another lightly touched your arm during a conversation, Yunho’s jaw twitched.

Then, when yet another executive leaned in—just slightly—to compliment you, Yunho placed a hand on the small of your back.

You almost flinched. Almost.

His palm was warm. Firm. A barely-there touch that sent something sharp down your spine.

But when you glanced up at him, his expression was unreadable, eyes focused ahead as if he hadn’t just claimed possession of you in the middle of a crowded event hall.

Oh, Yunho.

You were so onto him.

Back at the Hotel

You barely made it through the door before kicking off your heels with a dramatic sigh.

“You were acting weird tonight.”

Behind you, Yunho scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he loosened his tie. “You’re imagining things.”

You turned, arms crossed. “Oh, really? So the whole ‘possessive hand on my back’ moment—just my imagination?”

Yunho stilled—just for a second. A flicker of hesitation. Then, as fast as it appeared, it was gone. “I was just making sure you weren’t uncomfortable.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Uncomfortable? Or were you uncomfortable watching me talk to other men?”

Yunho exhaled sharply, pulling at the knot of his tie with a little more force than necessary. “Go to sleep.”

You ignored him, stepping closer “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

Yunho tensed.

Your voice dropped slightly, teasing. “Do you want to know what one of them told me?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t care.”

You smirked, knowing full well that he did.

“He said I looked breathtaking tonight.”

Silence.

A long, suffocating silence.

Yunho just stared at you, dark eyes unreadable, lips parted like he wanted to say something—but didn’t.

Then—before you could react—he took a step forward.

Your breath hitched. You instinctively moved back.

Another step.

Your back hit the wall.

Your heart pounded.

His voice was low. Too low. “I told you to go to sleep.”

His hand lifted, fingers barely brushing against your jaw—lingering.

His gaze flickered to your lips.

Your stomach flipped.

The air between you was thick, electric—and then, just as fast, it was gone.

Because Yunho ripped himself away, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Forget it,” he muttered.

And just like that, he stormed into the bathroom—again—leaving you standing there, breathless and burning from head to toe.

But this time, you weren’t the only one affected.

Because Yunho?

Yunho had almost kissed you.

And he knew it.

...TO BE CONTINUED.

---

[magic-shop-stories]

BTS as fathers pt.2 - YOONGI

other members JIN

pt.2 - YOONGI

Yoongi’s parenting style would be quiet piano melodies at 2 AM, handwritten notes tucked into lunchboxes, and a love so steady it feels like a heartbeat. He’s the dad who says little but sees everything.

💖 Emotional Side & Feelings

quietly devoted

actions > grand gestures

late-night tea talks

fixes broken toys/stuff without asking

introspective journaling

fears of emotional distance

love language: quality time & acts of service

all-night school project help

concert drives

soft at heart = tearing up at milestones, hidden behind a grumpy mask

Yoongi would express his deep love through subtle, consistent actions. He may appear reserved, yet every late-night conversation and gentle fix is a testament to his devotion. Though he worries about repeating his father’s emotional distance, he'd work hard to be fully present for his kids, even if it means muttering “Allergies” while wiping a stray tear at a piano recital.

👨‍👧‍👦 What He Does With His Kids

Music lessons: Home studio piano basics

“Finger placement matters. No, not like that...here.”

Quiet adventures: Indie bookstores, vinyl shops, late-night drives with lo-fi beats

Cooking: Simple meals like kimchi jjigae with extra tofu

“Eat. It’ll make you taller.”

EXTRA:

Vinyl Listening & Music Appreciation Nights: He has a deep love for analog music and storytelling through sound. On weekend nights, he'd sit in the studio or living room, with his kids dims the lights, and plays vinyl records, explaining what makes each song special

“Listen to this bassline—pure genius.”

sometimes, they take turns picking albums, and he lets them explain why they love certain songs.

he'd teach them how to handle vinyl properly

“No fingerprints. Treat it with respect.”

occasionally, he'd play them unreleased songs or rough demos, letting them hear his creative process

becomes a bonding ritual = music as a shared language between them

From teaching piano in his intimate studio to taking quiet midnight drives, Yoongi’s time with his kids would be filled with understated moments that nurture creativity and resilience. Whether whipping up a simple meal or listeninh to music together, every moment would be carefully crafted to make his children feel seen and supported.

📚 What He Teaches Them

Resilience

“Life’s not fair. But you’re tougher than you think.”

Creativity

“There’s no wrong way to create.”

Financial sense

“Save your allowance. That Dior hoodie isn’t worth it.” (Though earned, rewards follow)

Self-advocacy

“Speak up. Even if your voice shakes.”

Yoongi’s lessons would be straightforward and heartfelt. He'd emphasize bouncing back from setbacks, finding beauty in creative expression, and developing financial wisdom, often blending tough love with gentle encouragement to help his children forge their own paths.

💎 His Beliefs & Values

Mental health matters: open about anxiety

Work hard, rest harder: mandatory “lazy Sundays”

Privacy is sacred

shields from media, no paparazzi

With a balanced perspective shaped by his own challenges, Yoongi would instill values of self-care and privacy. He believes that mental health is as important as any achievement and ensures that his family has a sanctuary away from the public eye.

🚫 What He’s Strict About

Respect

“You can disagree without being cruel.” - then sits them in the studio to write down the sharpest punchlines together

Honesty

“Disappointing me is worse than making a mistake.”

Screen time: Limits social media; promotes creative hobbies

Alcohol: you might think he'd be chill about it but he'd be strict about underage drinking, but also teaches responsible choices when older

Firm and fair, Yoongi sets clear boundaries. He demands respect and honesty in every interaction and enforces sensible limits on screen time. Notably, he is resolute about alcohol—prohibiting it for underage kids while gradually educating them on responsibility as they grow.

🤒 Handling Tough Situations

When sick: methodical care (thermometer, homemade ginger tea, Studio Ghibli DVDs)

“Rest. I’ll handle the rest.”

Misbehavior: calm discussion

“Let’s talk about why you did that.”

logical consequences (e.g. volunteering if careless with a pet)

Heartbreak: shares personal tales of teenage angst over hot chocolate

“First love’s like a song—beautiful, but not always meant to last.”

Whether it’s a fever or a broken heart, Yoongi would handle crises with a steady, thoughtful approach. He'd create a healing environment, be it with a carefully measured dose of ginger tea or a quiet chat that puts life’s disappointments into perspective.

🎁 Typical Gifts

Vinyl records: rare pressings

(e.g., signed vinyl for 16th birthday)

“Don’t scratch it.”

Music gear: vintage guitar or MIDI controller

“Make something honest.”

Luxury staples: subtle Valentino accessories

“Take care of yourself. It’s not vanity, it’s self-respect.”

Every gift from Yoongi meticulously chosen to reflect his children’s passions and his own refined taste. From rare vinyl to quality music instruments and understated luxury items, his presents would be both meaningful and practical.

👧👦 Parenting Differences: Daughter and Son

For His Daughter:

fiercely protective yet promotes independence

“You don’t need anyone’s permission to take up space.”

admires her boldness

secretly preserves her protest art

encourages pursuit of STEM or music, whatever she loves

For His Son:

focuses on emotional intelligence

“Crying doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

bonds over basketball games (even if Yoongi is hopeless against his own son - YES! - believe me, he is good but his son would be better)

teaches practical skills: cooking, cleaning, money management

Yoongi would tailor his approach with care: nurturing his daughter’s independence and creative spirit while guiding his son to embrace vulnerability and practical life skills. His method would be to celebrate each child’s uniqueness while providing a consistent foundation of love and discipline.

💬 Typical Things He Says

“Think before you act. But don’t overthink.” “You’re allowed to be angry. Just don’t let it control you.” “If you’re going to fail, fail forward.” “Want a snack? I’ve got ...”

🌟 Family Rituals

Midnight snack sessions: 1 AM ramyeon under soft kitchen lights, life talks

Studio Saturdays: Home studio hangouts with doodles and songwriting

Annual hiking trips: Nature detoxes

“Fresh air fixes everything.”

Family time with Yoongi defined by unique rituals that blend creativity and calm. From spontaneous late-night snacks to relaxed studio sessions and refreshing hikes, these traditions cement the deep bonds they share.

🌍 Balancing Fame & Family

compartmentalizes work and home, home is sacred

occasional low-key studio sessions

no exploitation of their image

advocates for mental health resources for teens, inspired by his kids

Yoongi would masterfully separate his demanding career from his cherished family life. He'd ensure that his children are shielded from the limelight while still sharing bits of his world in a controlled, nurturing way.

💭 His Worries & Efforts

fears of emotional distance

schedules weekly “How’s your heart?” check-ins

overthinks birthday gifts to ensure they feel truly seen

quietly donates to youth art programs, promoting a kinder, less judgmental world

Haunted by the possibility of inheriting his father’s detachment, Yoongi would constantly strive to connect more deeply with his children. His careful efforts, both big and small, reveal a dad who is always learning, always loving, and always trying to create a better world for his kids.

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 3

Tommy Shelby x Reader : Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you've seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby's) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: You told yourself this was temporary, just another job, another place to leave behind. But as quiet tensions lingered and unspoken truths surfaced, it became clear—some ties are harder to sever than others, and leaving may not be as simple as you once thought.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, brief PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

--

You should have been relieved that Tommy hadn’t pressed further. Should have been glad that, despite the way he had hired men to look into your past, he had ultimately let it drop. But relief never came.

Instead, you found yourself waiting. Bracing.

It had been days since Tommy called out your lie, and he hadn’t said a word about it. No mentions of London, no casual references to the hospital you never actually worked at, no pointed questions meant to trap you in another lie.

But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten.

It meant he was waiting.

Eventually, a full week passed since the night you first stitched Thomas Shelby back together.

His deep bruises were fading into sickly yellows, the swelling around his eye had gone down, and the stitches were holding. He was regaining his strength. Which meant your job was nearly finished.

After all the digging around he’d done into your past, you should have been relieved. 

Instead, you felt something closer to disappointment.

You weren’t naïve. You knew the Shelbys were involved in something that wasn’t entirely legal. Men who refused to set foot in a hospital typically had reasons for it. And Tommy, despite being confined to bed rest, still had a quiet, calculating control over the business that ran through his house. Conversations stopped when you entered the room. Numbers were whispered in low tones. It didn’t take a genius to know these men weren’t just bookmakers.

But the pay was solid, more than you had expected. And beyond that, the family itself had become something of an unexpected attachment.

Arthur, with his boisterous, rough-edged humor, always had something to say, usually at Tommy’s expense. John was all easy charm, quick-witted and relentless in his teasing. Polly had taken to watching you with quiet amusement, like she knew something you didn’t. Ada, when she was around, smirked knowingly whenever she caught you in conversation with her brothers. And Finn, bright-eyed and full of questions, had a way of reminding you that not all Shelbys had been hardened by the world just yet.

And then there was Tommy.

He was the one you couldn’t quite figure out.

You weren’t sure if you liked him. But he intrigued you, and that was almost worse.

But the job was almost done. He was healing. And soon, you would leave this family behind. For a reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on, that thought unsettled you. 

To shake the feeling, you kept yourself busy. The next morning, you took stock of your supplies, making a mental list of what you needed. Bandages, laudanum, antiseptic, and, begrudgingly, whiskey. Tommy wouldn’t listen to reason when it came to vices, and if you didn’t bring him a bottle, he’d just send someone else to get one.

You walked into town, weaving through the narrow streets, the scent of coal and damp stone heavy in the air. At the apothecary, you selected your supplies quickly, moving with practiced efficiency. But as you waited to pay, voices from a few feet away caught your attention.

“…I’m telling you, the Shelbys are gearing up for something big.”

You stiffened slightly, pretending to study a shelf of tonics as the men continued talking.

I heard someone tried to take Tommy out last week, left him half-dead. No one’s seen him since it happened.”

“If I were the one who did it, I’d start running now. He’ll want blood for that.”

“When are the Shelby’s not out for blood?” 

“I heard it was Sabini’s men,” the first voice lowered, like he knew better than to speak the name too loud.

You kept your gaze fixed on the rows of medicine bottles in front of you, hands tightening around your bag.

“Sabini?” another scoffed. “Well, that’d explain it. Thought he ran all the gambling in London, not here.”

“Maybe he’s looking to expand,” the first voice suggested. “Or maybe it’s just another pissing contest between gangs. Either way, there’ll be hell to pay. You know how the Shelbys are. Someone takes a swing, they hit back twice as hard.”

There was a pause before another voice muttered, “Someone’s been sniffing around. A middleman. Trying to feel out the waters, see if the job’s finished.”

A beat of silence passed between them, before one of them exhaled sharply. “If Tommy Shelby’s still breathing, it’s not.”

Your stomach twisted.

One of the men let out a low hum. "They’ll be watching the Garrison, then."

"’Course they will," another scoffed.

You forced your breath to stay steady, keeping your face neutral as you finally turned, dropping your items onto the counter for the shopkeeper.

The men were still murmuring behind you as you paid and stepped out into the street.

Sabini. The Garrison. You weren’t familiar with the names, but you had enough to put some of the pieces together. Sabini was making moves, and the Garrison, wherever that was, was at the center of it.

As you walked back toward the Shelby house, their words echoed in your mind. 

Your steps slowed.

You were here to do a job– nothing more. And yet, the thought of keeping this to yourself didn’t sit right.

You exhaled sharply, adjusting the strap of your bag.

Tell him, or stay out of his mess and leave it alone?

You had no loyalty to the Shelbys. Not really. You were just a nurse– an outsider passing through. You owed them nothing. And yet…

You thought of Finn, eager and bright-eyed. Of Arthur’s rough humor, Polly’s knowing glances. Of Ada’s sharp smirks, John’s easy charm.

Of Tommy.

You sighed, dragging a hand over your face. You weren’t sure if this was a mistake. But by the time the Shelby house came into view, you had already made your decision. 

When you walked into Tommy’s room, Arthur and John were in the room when you stepped inside, both standing near the window, mid-conversation. Tommy sat up in bed, cigarette balanced between his fingers, his usual air of calm calculation masking whatever pain he was still in.

Arthur was the first to acknowledge your arrival. "Evening, Doc." He smirked. "Come to make sure our brother’s still in one piece?"

"Something like that," you said, setting your bag down. “But again, I’m not a doctor.” 

Arthur shrugged, unbothered. "Close enough."

Your hands moved with practiced ease, checking the bandages, pressing gently against Tommy’s ribs to assess the healing. But beneath the routine, your mind was elsewhere.

The words from the apothecary still lingered in your head. You needed to tell Tommy.

But not yet. Not with Arthur and John here, cracking jokes between sips of whiskey. You’d wait. 

John, who was leaning against the windowsill, smirked. "Don’t let him fool you, he’s been sitting up too much, already talking about getting back to work."

You glanced at Tommy, unimpressed. "That so?"

Tommy exhaled slowly, flicking ash from his cigarette. "Can’t sit around forever. Got a pub to run."

“He all good to go yet, Doc?” Arthur asked. 

You glanced at Tommy, arching a brow. "That depends. What exactly does running a pub entail? Pouring drinks or breaking up bar fights?"

Tommy exhaled slowly, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray. "It’s a business, same as any other."

"Is it?" You tilted your head, studying him. "Seems like there’s a bit more to it than pouring whiskey."

John smirked. "She catches on quick, doesn’t she?"

Tommy said nothing, just watching you, unreadable as ever. 

You held his gaze for a moment. "Where’s your pub?”

Tommy leaned back slightly, tapping his fingers against the table. "The Garrison Tavern. Just off Watery Lane."

Your fingers tightened slightly around the strap of your bag. The Garrison. The name settled heavily in your mind, fitting into place like a missing puzzle piece. 

You turned back towards Arthur. “To answer your question, no. He’s not good to go.”

Arthur let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "Shame. Guess that means we’re in charge for a bit longer, eh John?"

John snorted. "Arthur and I got a handle on things, don’t we?"

Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, ‘course we do. Everything’s running just fine without you, brother."

John smirked. "Might even run better, come to think of it."

Tommy gave them both a dry look, unimpressed. "That right?"

John grinned. "Aye. Might be time to retire, eh? Leave all the hard work to us."

Arthur laughed, but Tommy said nothing, watching as you peeled away the last of the gauze. His skin was still bruised, deep reds and purples fading into dull yellows, but the stitches were almost ready to be removed, and the worst of the swelling had gone down.

"You’re healing well," you murmured. You adjusted the final bandage and sat back slightly. “You can be up and about as soon as these stitches are ready to come out.”

Tommy hummed, taking another slow drag from his cigarette. “Which is when?”

You shrugged. “Soon.” You hesitated for a moment, then cleared your throat. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Tommy’s gaze flicked to you, sharp and unreadable. He exhaled smoke slowly, watching as it curled through the dim light. “You’re talking now.”

"Alone," you clarified.

Tommy studied you for a long moment, cigarette balanced between his fingers. His blue eyes flickered with something unreadable before he finally gave a short nod.

"Arthur, John. Give us a minute."

Arthur scoffed but didn’t argue. He took one last swig from the bottle before pushing up from his chair, clapping Tommy’s shoulder as he passed. 

You waited until John and Arthur had left the room and the door clicked shut before you turned back to Tommy.

He leaned back against the headboard, watching you carefully, cigarette still resting between his fingers. "Go on then," he said, tone unreadable. "What is it?"

You shifted on your feet, suddenly aware of how closely Tommy was watching you. His gaze was steady, unblinking, waiting.

“I overheard something in town,” you started carefully.

That caught his interest. His cigarette lingered between his fingers, the faint curl of smoke rising between you. "Alright," he said, his voice still unreadable.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of your next words. "Some men were talking. They said that the men who attacked you worked for someone named Sabini."

Tommy didn’t react right away, didn’t move a muscle, but something in the air shifted. His silence was calculating, measured.

"They said no one’s seen you since," you continued, "and that someone– some worker or middle man, is in Birmingham. They said something about seeing if the job’s been finished, and that they’d be watching the Garrison.”

Tommy’s fingers flexed slightly around his cigarette, but he didn’t say a word. His expression remained calm but there was something coiled beneath the surface, something sharp and dangerous.

Another beat of silence. Then, Tommy exhaled slowly, tapping ash from his cigarette into the tray beside him. "Who was talking?"

You shook your head. "I don’t know, I didn’t see their faces. Just some men at the apothecary."

Tommy hummed, eyes flickering with something unreadable. He studied you like he was turning something over in his mind, weighing possibilities, measuring the value of what you’d just told him.

"They say anything else?" he asked.

"Just that if Sabini is involved, it means trouble. Something about him looking to expand."

Tommy let out a slow breath through his nose, nodding slightly. "Why’d you tell me?"

You blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by the question. "Seemed like something you’d want to know," you said simply.

Tommy studied you, tapping his cigarette against the tray, the ember dimming. "Could’ve kept it to yourself," he pointed out. "Could’ve walked away, let me sort it out myself."

You hesitated, shifting your weight. "Could have. Wouldn’t have sat right with me, though."

His expression flickered as something unreadable passed behind his sharp blue eyes. “Good.”

You crossed your arms, watching him as realization washed over you. "You already knew.” 

Tommy’s lips twitched, just slightly. "I had my suspicions. But appreciate your honesty.” 

A beat of silence passed between you, the room settling into a quiet lull. The distant sounds of the city hummed beyond the walls, a reminder that life outside this room continued on, unchanged. 

You offered a quick nod, focusing on securing the last of the bandages.

Tommy shifted slightly, rolling his injured shoulder just enough to test his limits. Then, with a tone almost too casual, he asked, "So, once I make my miraculous recovery, will you be sticking around Birmingham?"

You blinked, your fingers hesitating for the briefest second before resuming their work.

"That depends," you said evenly.

"On what?"

You pressed your lips together.

On work. On money. On not knowing where the hell else to go.

Finally, you settled on: "I have to figure some things out."

Tommy hummed. "Doesn’t sound like much of a plan."

You arched a brow. "And what about you, Mr. Shelby? Do you have it all figured out?"

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Not yet."

"Well," you said finally, "let me know when you do."

Tommy exhaled slowly, watching you in that way he always did, like he was working something out, piecing something together that you didn’t even know you were giving away.

Before he could say anything else, you reached into your bag and pulled out the bottle of whiskey you’d bought for him, rolling it briefly between your fingers. Then, you held it out to him.

"Here," you said. "You earned it. For the pain," you muttered.

Tommy’s mouth curved slightly at the corner, something like amusement flickering in his gaze. "Thought you didn’t believe in whiskey as medicine."

"I don’t," you said, fastening the strap of your bag. “But I figured if I didn’t bring you some, you’d just send some poor bloke out later.”

Tommy hummed, reaching for the bottle. He turned it in his hands, running his thumb along the label before glancing back at you. "Stay for a drink."

You arched a brow. "I don’t drink on the job."

That earned you a small smirk. "Consider yourself off duty, then."

"Not until those stitches come out," you countered.

Tommy studied you for a moment before twisting the cap off the bottle, pouring himself a measure into the glass at his bedside. He took a slow sip, exhaling as the burn settled in his chest.

"Are you always this difficult?" he mused.

You tilted your head slightly. "Are you always this persistent?"

He smirked again, taking another sip. "When I need to be. I’m used to getting what I want."

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you finished fastening your bag. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Tommy’s smirk lingered, but he didn’t press further. You took that as your cue to leave, turning toward the door. 

But just as your fingers brushed the handle, his voice stopped you.

"I remember now."

You froze.

Slowly, you turned back to face him, finding his gaze sharper now, more focused, like he had been fitting together a puzzle, and the last piece had finally fallen into place.

Your stomach twisted. "Remember what?"

His fingers tapped idly against the side of his glass, but his eyes never left yours. "Where I know you from."

Tommy exhaled, rolling the bottle in his hand. "Didn’t place it at first. But after you dodged my question about where you trained, I put it together." His gaze flickered to you. "You were in France. The tunnels."

You swallowed, your fingers pressing against the seam of your coat, something inside you twisting at the memory.

His mouth twitched, like he was amused with your discomfort. “Don’t worry, love,” he said. “I won’t tell.”

A silence stretched between you, the weight of the past hovering in the air, unspoken but understood. Tommy tapped his cigarette against the ashtray. 

When he realized you weren’t going to break the silence, he sighed. "Guess that means you’ve saved my life twice, then."

"I was just doing my job," you corrected quietly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, unreadable. "And now?"

You hesitated. "Now, I patch up injured pub owners for money."

Tommy smirked. "That so?"

You exhaled, tilting your head slightly. "Were you expecting something more noble?"

He studied you for a moment before leaning back slightly against the headboard, eyes unreadable as he lifted his glass in a mock toast. "Next time, bring two glasses."

Without another word, you turned and left, stepping into the cool night air, your mind racing.

…

The next few days, you stuck to your word and continued to check in on Thomas Shelby. But things weren’t the same.

You kept your distance.

You showed up when you said you would, did your job, but never lingered. And you were always sure that someone– Polly, Arthur, Ada, or John was in the room when you worked. If Tommy noticed, he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was letting you have your space. Or maybe he was just waiting.

You weren’t sure what unsettled you more– the fact that he knew, or the fact that he hadn’t pushed the subject.

France wasn’t something you spoke about. Not to anyone. The memories clung to you like damp wool, heavy and suffocating, but you had learned how to carry them. How to keep them locked away, buried deep enough that they didn’t seep into your everyday life.

But now, he knew.

You weren’t sure how much he had pieced together, whether he had been awake enough back then to remember your face, or if he had confirmed it the way he did everything else, methodically, precisely. Either way, the fact remained: Thomas Shelby had looked into you. He had pulled at the carefully stitched seams of your past, and now there was a tear.

It made you uneasy.

Not because you thought he’d do anything with the knowledge. It was that Tommy Shelby was a man who liked to understand the people around him, who picked apart every little detail until he had the full picture. And you had spent years trying to keep that picture hidden.

You didn’t want him asking questions.

So you made sure there was never a moment where he could.

One afternoon, you checked his stitches while he and John spoke in low tones about something regarding a shipment. You kept your head down, focusing on your work, pretending not to hear when Tommy’s voice dipped into something colder, sharper.

Another day, you arrived to find Polly sitting at his bedside, her arms crossed as she pressed him about something he clearly didn’t want to discuss. He barely looked at you when you entered, but you noticed the way his eyes flickered toward you as you settled in, using her presence as a buffer to avoid any direct conversation.

On another occasion, Arthur was there, laughing too loudly at something Finn had said, filling the room with his usual boisterous energy. He grinned at you when you walked in, tipping his flask toward you in greeting, but you barely acknowledged him, moving straight to Tommy’s bedside to do your work. You kept your hands steady, your tone neutral, keeping things as impersonal as possible.

You told yourself it was fine. That you were doing the right thing. That this was temporary.

And Tommy didn’t call you on it.

Not once.

If he noticed the way you never lingered, the way you avoided being alone with him, the way you rarely met his gaze, he didn’t say a word. He just watched, quiet and unreadable, letting you keep your distance, for now.

The next time you arrived, the house was already alive with conversation. John, Arthur, and Finn were inside Tommy’s room, their voices carrying through the hallway as you stepped through the door. You hesitated briefly before slipping in quietly, keeping your movements measured.

Arthur was the first to spot you. "Ah, there she is," he greeted with a grin, tipping his glass in your direction.

John glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "Hello, love."

You barely looked up. "Hi," you murmured, moving toward Tommy without breaking stride. You set your bag down and began working, carefully unwrapping the bandages with practiced hands, checking for signs of infection.

Tommy said nothing as you worked, only watching you with that same quiet scrutiny you had come to expect.

"Stitches can come out today," you said quietly after a moment, keeping your voice even. "They’ve done their job, and keeping them in too long will do more harm than good."

Tommy gave a short nod, tapping ash from his cigarette. "Fine." 

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned back toward John and Arthur, continuing their conversation as if your presence no longer required his attention.

"Like I was saying," Arthur huffed, rubbing his jaw. "If the shipment doesn’t come through by Friday, we’ve got a problem. Already been delayed once, can’t let it happen again."

John leaned back against the table, arms crossed. "We need eyes on it. Someone’s not pulling their weight, and I’ve got a few guesses on who."

Tommy exhaled slowly, his cigarette hanging between his fingers. "Then find out for sure. I don’t make guesses."

You barely paid attention to the conversation, too focused on your task as Finn moved closer, watching intently.

You paused, glancing at him. His eyes were eager, wide with curiosity.

“Think you could help me out?” you asked him gently. 

Finn perked up instantly, standing a little straighter. “Really?”

You nodded, reaching into your bag for a small pair of scissors. “Yeah, I could use an extra pair of hands. Here, hold this.”

He stepped forward eagerly as you handed him the small scissors and tweezers, his fingers gripping them carefully.

Finn watched intently as you leaned in, carefully taking hold of the first stitch. “So, the trick is to snip the thread close to the knot,” you explained, steady and methodical, “then pull it through smoothly to keep from tugging at the skin too much.”

Finn nodded, his eyes flickering between your hands and Tommy’s expression. “Does it hurt?”

Tommy, who had been quiet until now, exhaled a slow stream of smoke, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Not unless she fucks it up.”

Finn shot him a glare, but you ignored his jab. On the next stitch, your hand shifted just slightly, and you tugged a little harder than necessary.

Tommy winced, his jaw tightening as he tensed under your touch. 

You glanced up, feigning innocence. “Oops.”

Tommy didn’t respond immediately, though his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. 

Finn snorted, biting back his own grin. "Did you do that on purpose?"

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "Why would I do that?"

Tommy gave you a sharp look, but you just continued working, expression smooth, unbothered. "Careful," he muttered.

You hummed, clearly unbothered. 

Arthur leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Don’t think she’s scared of you, Tommy."

Finn, still holding onto the supplies, watched closely as you reached for the next stitch while Tommy, Arthur and John resumed their previous conversation. 

"So, how do you know when to take them out?" Finn asked, eyes flickering between your hands and Tommy’s skin.

You kept your focus on your work, carefully snipping another thread. "The wound has to be fully closed, no gaps or signs of infection. If you take them out too soon, it could reopen." You tilted your head slightly. "See here?" You gestured for Finn to lean closer, pointing at the clean, healed line of skin where the stitch had been. "It’s sealed up properly. No redness, no warmth, no tenderness. That’s how you know it’s ready."

Finn nodded, his brows furrowing in concentration. "And if it wasn’t?"

You smirked. "Then he’d still be stuck with me for longer."

Finn’s face fell, clear disappointment washing over him. "That mean you’re leaving, then?"

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before giving him a small, reassuring smile. "I’m sure I’ll see you around, Finn."

He didn’t look convinced, shifting on his feet, clearly disappointed. Before he could press further, you nudged the supply tray toward him. "Here, help me with this one."

His eyes flickered between you and Tommy before stepping forward, looking eager again despite himself. You guided his hand gently over the scissors. "Just like I showed you, snip at the base, then let me do the rest."

Finn furrowed his brows, concentrating hard as he did exactly as you instructed, carefully cutting the stitch. You took over from there, using the tweezers to pull the thread free.

"See?" you murmured. "You’re a natural."

Finn beamed, his previous disappointment temporarily forgotten. 

You gave his shoulder a small squeeze before gathering your supplies. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "You too."

Arthur and John were still deep in conversation with Tommy, their voices low and sharp, discussing something about a shipment and a name you didn’t recognize. They were too engrossed to notice as you silently slipped toward the door.

You stepped out into the hallway, adjusting the strap of your bag, and made your way toward the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed tea and cigarette smoke lingered in the air as you entered, finding Polly seated at the table, flipping idly through the newspaper. She barely looked up as she took a slow drag from her cigarette.

"Done already?" she asked, tapping ash into a ceramic dish.

You nodded. "He’s healing well. I took all the stitches out. He’s got no sign of infection."

Polly hummed, setting the paper down as she studied you. "So, that’s it then?"

You exhaled slowly, rolling your shoulders. "That’s it. He should keep the sling on for another week, but it won’t kill him if he takes it off sooner."

Polly nodded, taking another slow drag before exhaling a thin stream of smoke. "So, what’s next for you?" she asked, her voice even, but curious.

You shrugged, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Hoping to find work somewhere in the area. Haven't figured it out yet."

Polly hummed, tilting her head slightly as she watched you. "Well, I imagine we’ll miss having you around. Finn especially."

That caught you off guard. You blinked, shifting slightly.

Polly smirked. "He’s taken a liking to you. Thinks you’re the only one who talks any sense around here."

Something about the way she said it made you hesitate. You cleared your throat, shifting your weight. "Well, he’s a good kid."

Polly gave a slow nod, taking another drag from her cigarette. "I’d say goodbye, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around.”

You exhaled softly, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. There was something knowing in Polly’s gaze, something that made you feel like she could see straight through you.

Rather than acknowledge it, you offered a small nod. “Take care, Polly.”

She only smirked. “Oh, I always do.”

You didn’t linger. You stepped out of the kitchen, weaving through the familiar halls of the Shelby home, keeping your head down as you made your way toward the door.

You could still hear Arthur and John talking in the other room, their voices carrying through the house, but Tommy hadn’t said a word since you left his room. You didn’t look back.

As you stepped out into the cold evening air, the realization settled heavily in your chest.

This was it.

For the first time in over a week, you wouldn’t be walking through those doors tomorrow.

The thought sat strangely with you.

You had told yourself this was temporary, that you had no business getting comfortable here. But somehow, in between checking bandages and stitching wounds, you had settled into the rhythm of the Shelby house more than you intended.

And now that rhythm was gone.

Shaking off the thought, you turned onto the street, heading home, convincing yourself that this was how it was supposed to end.

[babsworlds]

DEAL?

pairing. Dave Lizewski x fem! reader

synopsis. You and Dave make a deal to solve your problems.

warnings. fake dating trope, pre relationship, mention of obsession, murder and kidnapping (It’s not bad like it sounds i promise)

YOU HAD A REALLY SHITTY WEEK, and for some reason, you thought it couldn’t get any worse. An idiot named Oliver started to like you way too much, and what began as an innocent crush turned into a weird obsession.

He seemed to be everywhere you went, always finding some excuse to talk to you or try to get your attention. It felt suffocating, and no matter how politely you tried to distance yourself, he just wouldn't take the hint. The constant unease and annoyance made the days drag on, each one feeling longer and more exhausting than the last.

It was a long-awaited Friday, which meant a sleepover with your best friend Dave. This was the only thing that could help you forget all the issues with Oliver. You had been looking forward to this night for weeks, knowing that Dave's presence always had a way of making everything seem a little bit better. The two of you had a special bond, one that had grown stronger over the years, and you knew that you could always count on him to be there when you needed him most.

“Hello, Y/n,” Dave greeted you, but he wasn’t smiling like he usually did. You could sense that he hadn't had the best week either. He smacked his back onto the little couch in your room, his usual energy replaced by a tired slump. His eyes had a distant look, and it was clear that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

You leaned against the wall behind your bed, unable to do anything else but stare blankly ahead. The weight of the week’s events pressed down on you, making it hard to muster any energy or enthusiasm. The silence between you and Dave felt heavy, each of you lost in your own thoughts, searching for some way to make sense of everything.

Dave quickly understood your mood, and he wasn’t really in the mood for anything wild either. He climbed up next to you, joining in the silent, vacant staring contest with the wall. It was a quiet, unspoken understanding between the two of you, a shared moment of vulnerability that required no words. Sometimes, just being together was enough.

“How have you been?” you broke the silence, your voice sounding empty and devoid of emotion. The effort to speak felt monumental, as if every word required a tremendous amount of energy.

“Shitty,” he shrugged, his shoulders slumping even further. “Katie— I mean, everyone thinks I’m gay,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration and sadness. You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, so he didn’t see that. It was a small, involuntary reaction, a brief moment of levity in an otherwise heavy conversation.

“How about you?” Dave asked, and you could feel his head turn toward you, though you didn’t look at him.

“Not much better,” you assured him, letting him know he wasn’t the only person feeling down. “Oliver is being a weirdo again, and still,” you explained, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Whoa,” Dave sighed, “I hate that idiot.” There was pure disgust and hatred in his voice, and it felt good to know that he shared your sentiments.

“I just wish he would leave me alone,” you said, your tone heavy with exasperation. The constant annoyance and unease Oliver brought into your life had become unbearable, and you longed for some peace and quiet.

You placed your head on Dave’s shoulder, feeling more comfortable. As you sat there, you thought about all possible ways to get rid of Oliver—both legal and illegal. The constant obsession was draining, and you were desperate for a solution.

Suddenly, a genius idea flashed through your mind, but you weren’t really sure if Dave would agree with it. It was unconventional, but maybe it could work.

“I’ve got an idea,” you said, smiling from ear to ear as you moved to sit opposite him, your excitement growing.

“Kidnapping?” Dave joked, raising an eyebrow at you. He wasn’t taking it seriously, thinking it was just a playful suggestion. “Murder?”

“No, asshole,” you rolled your eyes, your smile still in place. “We should pretend that we are dating.”

“What? Are you on something?” Dave wasn’t buying the idea. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you could see the skepticism in his eyes. It was clear that he didn't understand what you meant, and the suggestion seemed to catch him off guard. You couldn’t blame him; it was a rather unconventional plan, and you knew it sounded a bit far-fetched.

You took a deep breath, determined to explain your reasoning. “I mean, think about it,” you began, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “If Oliver sees I’m with someone, he’ll leave me alone,” you continued, laying out the logic of your plan. “And you will get rid of these gay rumors,” you added with a chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood and make the idea more appealing. The thought of solving both of your problems with one simple act was too tempting to pass up.

“That sounds a bit extreme,” Dave shrugged, not really sure how to answer. You could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced by the idea, his skepticism evident in his expression.

“Should I start thinking of some illegal plan then?” you shrugged, trying to press on him subtly, hoping to sway him without making it too obvious.

“Oh god no,” Dave said quickly, his voice filled with alarm at the thought. As he considered it again, an idea formed in his mind. He had always had a thing for you, and it drained him knowing he was just a best friend. Maybe this was his chance to take things to the next level. Besides, people would be shocked to see him with someone as hot as you. “I’m in,” he finally said, smiling devilishly.

“That’s how I like you, Lizewski,” you teased, making him blush slightly.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be anything dramatic,” you reassured him, though you both knew it could potentially be a bit more intense. “Just holding hands, few photos, kisses on the cheek and forehead?” You started brainstorming the details, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness about pulling off this charade.

Dave shrugged, his blush deepening. He didn’t really care about the specifics; he was willing to do whatever it took to help you. The idea of pretending to be your boyfriend, even if just for a while, wasn’t entirely unappealing to him. In fact, there was a part of him that was secretly thrilled at the prospect.

“Yeah, that sounds survivable,” Dave shrugged, joking as he tried to mask his true feelings about your idea. His casual demeanor was an attempt to hide the underlying excitement and nervousness he felt at the prospect of pretending to be your boyfriend.

You rolled your eyes playfully, extending your pinkie towards him. “Deal?” you asked, your eyes locking with his. The devilish idea flickered through your mind, and you could see a similar glint in his eyes. “Deal,” he said, knotting his pinkie with yours in a binding promise.

A moment of silence passed as you both processed the new arrangement. The reality of the plan was setting in, and you could feel the thrill of the upcoming charade. It was unconventional, but it might just work.

“So I can call you my girlfriend?” Dave asked awkwardly, breaking the silence. His tone was uncertain, but there was a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

You smiled at the idea, appreciating his courage to embrace the plan. “I like the courage,” you replied, a playful twinkle in your eye.

“Yeah, you can, boyfriend,” you teased him again, giving your approval. Dave’s face lit up with a mixture of excitement and bashfulness. He didn’t mind you calling him boyfriend at all; in fact, he had secretly waited years for this moment, even if it was just for show. The idea of calling you his girlfriend, even in a pretend scenario, was something he had dreamed of for a long time.

“Well then, girlfriend,” he said, trying to keep his cool but unable to hide the smile spreading across his face. “Let’s make this convincing.”

And you weren’t really stupid. You knew his true intentions because you knew him all too well. Or maybe he was just too transparent to keep these kinds of secrets. But you let it be, because deep down, you wouldn’t really mind if something unexpected happened. It was an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a line that had always been there, but never crossed. You could sense the possibilities, and while you were focused on the plan at hand, there was a part of you that wondered what might come of it.

[these-written-reveries]

Great Heights

‣ Pairing: Simon Riley (Ghost) x GN!Reader

‣ Genre: Flangst (angst & fluff)

‣ Summary: When Simon realizes he has feelings for you.

‣ Warnings: Avoidant behavior, Simon being a stalker, Simon being completely incompetent at handling his emotions in a normal and healthy way (but we love him anyway, don't we?).

‣ Word Count: 1,214

‣ A/N: Idk about you, but I believe Simon Riley almost always resorts to stalker/creep behavior when he has feelings for someone. It's inevitable. He's either avoiding them like the plague, or going borderline yandere on their ass, with no in between. He doesn't know how to be normal about this at all. Good luck to whoever he falls for, 'cause you're in for a wild ride with this guy.

➼ Simon will distance himself from you almost immediately after realizing he has feelings for you.

• He is an avoidant type; known for burying his emotions and running away from any sign of vulnerability.

• Love makes him vulnerable. Love makes him weak.

• Claims he doesn't have time for love or relationships. That those things would distract him from his job.

• He'll indulge himself in meaningless one night stands on occasion, but that's as far as he ever takes things.

• His job always comes first.

• But then you came into the picture.

• He may not have consciously put the pieces together at first (the man needs AT LEAST 3-5 business WEEKS before he is finally able to truly understand his feelings), but he knew immediately upon meeting you that you were different.

• Not in a bad way, not in a "you stick out like a sore thumb," kind of way…

• More in a "you're so beautiful and your voice is so nice and your laughter is adorable and when you look at me I get all tingly and warm all over and it's kinda hard to breathe and I'm definitely not gonna be able to stop thinking about you anytime soon," kind of way.

• He'd never experienced that with anyone else before. So, to him, meeting you was a total shock to his system.

• After many days of random run-ins and conversations with you, he began to get really freaked out by his feelings and the way he reacted every time he was around you.

• You made him feel like he was free falling from a great height, unable to control the experience and unsure of when it would end, or if he'd survive it.

• It scared the shit out of him.

• Can you believe it? Simon RIley. Ghost. Scared.

• This was definitely uncharted waters for him.

• So, he promptly began avoiding you.

• He made no attempts to keep it subtle either. Every time he so much as caught the smallest glimpse of you, he was spinning on his heels and power walking away from you.

• He knew you knew he was avoiding you, but thankfully, you hadn't tried to bring it up to him.

• (How could you when he was bolting out of any space with you in it faster than you could blink?)

• He buried himself in his work, told himself he didn't care, that this was just a stupid, fleeting crush. He didn't need you. He didn't need anyone. He was better off alone.

• This little avoidance game lasted a good handful of weeks. He was thrilled when he was sent on a mission, hoping the time away would serve as a detox to get you out of his system.

• It didn't. In fact, it made everything worse.

• Now he couldn't even go a second without thinking of you. He wondered how you were doing, what you ate for breakfast, what pretty little outfit you decided to dress yourself in that day, if you had slept well the night before, if you were safe, if you were okay.

• If you were thinking of him too.

• Soon enough, the mere passing thoughts and silly daydreams turned into deep-seated longing. An ache for you that pervaded his chest. An ache to see you, to hear your voice, to protect you, to hold you.

• He needed you.

• He ached for you to need him too.

• You were hit with a wave of whiplash when he got back from his mission.

• Suddenly, he was popping up left and right. Most times from afar, silently keeping an eye on you. You'd catch him in the corner of your eye as you went about your day, or feel his watchful gaze on you, only to spot no sign of him when you turned to look around.

• He was there, though. An ever-looming presence in each and every day.

• If it were anyone else, you'd be frightened. But for some reason, knowing Simon was around, even at a distance, made you feel...safe.

• It also confused you. Why did he go from avoiding you to spending every moment of his spare time around you?

• Why hadn't he attempted to speak to you?

• One day, you'd finally had enough.

• The next time you'd caught him watching you from afar, you beelined straight towards him.

• It would've made you giggle, watching him grow visibly tense as he straightened his spine, eyes darting towards the nearest exit. But, you were committed to appearing serious to him. Him avoiding you for weeks and then stalking you like a creep was no laughing matter!

"Hello, Simon."

Stood rigidly before you, Simon cleared his throat, his mask hiding what you were sure to be a similarly tense and nervous face.

"Hello."

"Whatcha doin'?" you asked in a sing-song tone, though your eyes held an interrogatory intensity as they remained locked on his.

He broke contact with your eyes, and you had to stifle the smirk that tugged at your lips when you caught sight of his throat bobbing beneath his balaclava.

"I-erm, nothing."

You let the silence drag on for a moment, watching as his eyes flickered to and from you as he visibly struggled to decipher what your intentions were, before finally putting him out of his misery.

Simon nearly flinched when you suddenly presented a water bottle to him in your outstretched hand.

"Good. Can you help me open this?"

Your small smile seemed to set his nerves at ease a bit as he silently nodded, grabbing the bottle and giving it a simple twist before handing it back to you.

A sweeter smile was offered to him now as you took the bottle from him. "Thanks!"

Another silent nod from the burly man was enough to make you take things one step further.

He grew tense again when you took his hand and began pulling him towards where you were before.

"Come on, then! If you're gonna be a stalker, you might as well be a useful one."

• The two of you worked on completing your task together, and slowly but surely, you managed to pull Simon out of his shell. He began talking to you more, responding verbally instead of silent nods and quiet hums.

• You'd caught him staring a few times, and simply giggled at him before returning your eyes to what you were focusing on before.

• Normally, this kind of interaction would leave him wanting to run as far away from it as he could.

• Surprisingly though, he found himself enjoying it. Somehow, you'd managed to make him feel...safe.

• A switch had flipped in Simon's heart. Suddenly, he wasn't quite as terrified anymore.

• Maybe this whole relationship thing wasn't such a bad idea, after all? Beats being cold and alone and missing you by a long shot.

• Before, he couldn't stand being around you. Now, he couldn't stand to be away from you.

• Nor could he bear the thought of a future without you in it.

• When he met you, he knew you were different, but never had he expected you to be such a powerful force of change in his life; melting away his cold, steely exterior and exposing his battered heart to your mercy.

• All it took was one soft smile, a gentle touch, a knowing look, to anchor him to you—every fear dissipating as he looked to you as his guiding light.

➼ He decided then that he was alright with falling, so long as you'd be there to catch his heart in the end.

➼ Main Masterlist ➼ Request Info

‣Taglist: @jslittlebirdie @alittlesmartcookie

‣ If you’d like to join the taglist for Simon Riley/Ghost, let me know by sending me an ask/message, or comment on this post!

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS IN DISARRAY

scout: he’ll fight in his pjs and you better be happy he’s even here right now because he could definitely be asleep in bed right now but he decided to be an adult and come do his job, so be happy he’s here. you can barely tell he’s awake, but when he’s up and going it’s pretty unnoticeable. he knows he’s not quite up to speed but he’s fast enough, faster than everyone else, still. not interested in chatting, but a little more focused after battle. focused enough to make it to his room and close the door. little clumsier than normal, runs his shoulder into corners.

soldier: if soldier ever is in disarray you wouldn’t notice. unless you intimately know the man to know he fell out of bed, stubbed his toe, put his undershirt on backwards, and loaded the rocket the wrong way (of which will fire like a normal rocket), it always seems like soldier is moving business as usual. he does give the old man “uhhhhhhh” when he’s making regular conversation. scratches the back of his head, smacks his lips, and groans in annoyance. forgets to eat until the middle of the night, where you can catch him raiding the fridge.

pyro: they’re notably…. saggier. slower, tired, mask is lopsided. they’re not particularly in a worse mood, just not at the top of their game. you can still interact with them, and they will still act favorably! just might take them some more time to get to what you ask of them. also a time pyro can be arguably called Societally Normal And Casual. pyro is normally considered a higher energy teammate, but when they’re disoriented, they’re moving at a… less than chipper pace. bumbling jog into battle. sloppy melee swings. but the frustration of missing shots gets their head in the game.

demo: eyepatch on the wrong eye, hat on lopsided, shirt on backwards. he is so confused as to how his vision is worse than usual until he realizes he’s got his eyepatch on the wrong eye. he’s still hitting his shots though. also an old man “uhhhhhhh”-er. he shouldn’t even be on the field when he’s this disorganized, but his work doesn’t take the hit, only his social nature does. also still in a good mood usually, just so slow, and horridly lazy. if he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed then he probably just won’t get out of bed. lays in bed, drinks, eats garbage, and starts the next day fresh.

heavy: the best way to describe him is bratty. annoyed, and vocal about it. the strongest eye rolls and uninterested glares from furrowed brows. it’s one of the few times he will notably frown. it’d be easier to take him more seriously if he didn’t look so tired as he did it. someone get the man a blanket and take him back to bed, let him restart the day. even his tired grunts are so dramatic, he just seems like he’s brooding and stewing and holding back a tantrum. pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. if you ask him what’s going on, it will be one of three issues: bad sleep, bad dream, no breakfast. it is generally a combination of all three.

engineer: engie is almost always in a state of disarray. if he is not marginally disoriented as he’s rushing around the field then his workshop and his bedroom is a mess. this man has been running on a solid two pots of coffee a day since he was twenty years old. twitchier on the field, like bordering on concern of him having heart murmurs. he becomes more aggressive on the field the more caffeine he has in his body, so the team has forced him to take it down a few notches, especially when he’s running on no sleep just caffeine. he’s a defense class and they need him on the back lines. sometimes it’s funny though to watch him wreak havoc.

medic: “god, i’m so off today!” and nothing has changed. his shirt is slightly wrinkled. glasses slightly crooked. the doctor works best in organized chaos, so he will not be upset to wake up with a messier energy, for lack of better term. he can use messiness to confuse the enemy team. becomes bait as the team pushes, and pulls himself more together through each respawn until he’s sick of dying. then, after battle, he will absolutely crash. he makes it to a chair, maybe the common area’s sofa and he takes a seat… then he’s slumped. limp. the team will usually leave him there. sometimes heavy will take him to his room to sleep the day off.

sniper: “not my best day, mate.” shirt more wrinkled than normal. glasses are missing. socks mismatched, if he bothered to put them on at all. teeth not brushed. more vocal than usual! if only to grumble and groan to himself, though if you’re nearby he’s definitely a social bitcher. he’s the meme of “do you see this shit chat”. it’s a slow rev up for snipes to pull himself out of a slump. but he’s generally pretty normal by sunset. and at that point he’s not around anyone for it to matter, unless he’s feeling social still, then he’ll go check out the night life of the base, which can remain quite lively until about 1:30

spy: the ultimate bitch. scoffs, rolls his eyes, his mask is crooked, his cigarette is lit lopsidedly and burning unevenly— pyro will fix that. if heavy seems bratty, spy is just a nuisance. trudging on the field, missing easy kills, getting killed in stupid ways, groaning about it all the way to the spawn room. doesn’t want to be spoke to, doesn’t want to even be awake or alive. but here he is. awake, alive, alert, and very annoyed.

[stuckonmark]

accidents. mark lee

16. open your mf eyes

practice was absolutely worse than you imagined. you knew it was already going to be bad, but it was unbelievably terrible. as soon as coach announced that practice was over and other words of encouragement that went straight out of your ear, you bolted to your bag and poured some water all over your head. everyone looked like they were on the verge of dying, so you were glad you weren’t alone.

after you had settled down, you were now just waiting for winter to finish up. since y’all dorm together, it was convenient to walk back together. you decided to wait outside to get some fresh air because the bodies were crowding the gym.

you were honestly minding your own business and distracted by the calm breeze outside. that was until you started hearing a little commotion coming from the other side of the gym. you didn’t want to be nosy or anything, but the voices sounded familiar to you. slowly making your way over to the wall, you stayed hidden but you could kind of hear the conversation.

“i’m really sorry. i’m just having a hard time.”

“it’s fine. i get it.”

now the voices sounded really familiar, so you slowly peeked and your heart dropped immediately. the familiar voices were mark and mina, but what really shocked you was that they were hugging. mark was full on embracing mina into his arms. you almost lost your breath, as you tried to scatter away immediately. you were just in shock. you thought mark had cut off mina. that’s what he told you, so why was he hugging her like that. you should’ve known better.

you made your way back towards the entrance of the gym in complete coldness. you hadn’t even bothered to notice that winter was calling your name multiple times. “YN! ready to go home to our lovely cozy dorm? i just wanna hop in the shower and then roll up into my bed. okay, why aren’t you being excited with me.. you’re always excited with me..”

“o-oh sorry. yeah i’m excited. let’s just go now.” you tried pushing winter forward, so the two of you wouldn’t have to bump into mark or mina.

“hey, what’s going on. you look like you’ve seen a ghost and you’re always celebrating with me when practice is over.” winter looked at you intently, while wrapping her arm around your shoulder.

“i’m fine. it’s just.. i saw something that i wish i didn’t..”

“yn.. you know you can tell me anything.”

you began to explain the situation to winter. retelling what you saw should’ve been easy for you, but it wasn’t. your lips were trembling and the cold wasn’t helping that either. “i just thought that things were finally changing between me and him. i guess i was wrong. i’m literally so dumb for even believing that he would ever have feelings for me.”

“oh my yn.” winter pulled you into her arms and rubbed your head. “mark’s just stupid. he’s just a fucking boy who takes any chance to get his dick wet. he doesn’t deserve someone special like you. you’re one of a kind.”

“but is it bad that i wanted him to be my person?”

previous — m.list — next

notes. drama.. 😓

taglist. open! @mmjhh1998 @haluenx @urlocalbeaner5 @cloudmrk @dudekiss3r @iluv7tn @jae-n0 @kikookii @remgeolli @lyleo @wumutititititi @kittydollzz @nctdreamchaser @kodasity @sibwol @worldwidecutiemaya @bbykaixx @luvsooby @luvvhaechan @awktwurtle

[courtkossai]

as is , kossai already struggle with " proper " language and communication - some people see fit to complain and degrade for just this , words of kossai worth less than words of others . but this can be even worse in situations of low sleep or recent seizure - some might say erratic or nonsensical , because of struggles to string words in order . 

sometimes would try to reach out to people or make posts despite this , because ... well , want for companionship do not stop just because unwell . but then people would just ... outright laugh . oh haha , seem like monster catch up . oh haha , will just repeat message back because that is total nonsense . oh haha , will nitpick everything wrong and publicly shame , never mind actual conversation . 

just total baseless cruelty . this is why kossai object to labels like semiscribal , and to people who compliment or praise - disrespectful for others to point out and highlight , as if way of words is more important than actual message .

word salad is also something different , and people can be even crueler . occasionally will see on some popular posts or in popular tags , people who rant and rave with words would make sense to almost no one . grammatically might be just fine , but semantically extremely hard or impossible to follow as unfamiliar stranger - that is medical meaning of word salad . 

and unfortunately sometimes see people who jump in and try to provoke - " just some crazy dingbat " , so why not have some fun ? make some jokes about things that live in walls , laugh at incoherent answers to invasive questions , so on .

but that is still real individual with real life and feelings behind screen . there is no point at which apparent insanity - whether really in psychosis , or deal with entirely different things - make cruelty suddenly OK . 

struggle to understand message from someone with unfamiliar way of words ? try to understand why that person have different way of words , first . some people can fix with sleep , but many people can not fix at all . some people have caregiver or account moderator to help , but many do not . sometimes only answer which someone can give is , impossible to change words - have to get familiar with way of words , rather than hope for person to change . if that is really not possible , then at least do not turn to hostility and laughter .

@dailymanners - hope this is OK to tag . :)

[thecheshireprincess]

The Game Itself

Chapter IIb: Descending into Darkness

A Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) Series

Content Warning: Canon-typical violence, killing, mentions of blood, mentions of an abusive father/abusive childhood, curse words

A/N: This is a bonus chapter following Niragi when he first gets to the Borderlands; it was originally intended to be much shorter than my other chapters, but as always it got out of hand. I hope you enjoy!

Previous Chapter Masterlist

This was not the kind of game that Niragi had signed up for. He had been thinking cards, maybe video games, maybe even laser tag. No. This game? Coded Eight of Spades and titled The Hunt. How to win? Stay alive and eliminate everyone on the opposing team.

Eliminate, just a softer way to say slaughter. It had been a blood bath. Twenty people joined the game with them, ten per team. By the end, there were only three remaining - Niragi and two of his teammates. What was worse? He hadn't hated it. He was grateful that you weren't there, but he hadn't hated it.

The beast he'd long kept locked away now wide awake.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

The restaurant was elegant; nothing but the best for his ritzy coworkers, he supposed. Plush carpeting, jeweled chandeliers, a bathroom with fancy soaps and an attendant. Niragi stretches uncomfortably in his dress shirt, wishing he had joined you and Chishiya for dinner instead. To hell with monthly company obligations, this is just painful.

The man excuses himself from his coworkers, exiting through the patio door to get some fresh air and collect his thoughts. The night is reasonably cool, a fresh breeze tousling the hairs that had fallen out of the bun at the base of his neck.

His mind wanders to you, back to your conversation yesterday. He hadn't let you see it, but he was bothered when you reminded him that you were "an adult now" and felt like you shouldn't be coming to him with your problems anymore. Firstly, because he truly does believe you don't stop needing someone just because you grow up, like he'd told you. Secondly, and more importantly, is that he really wasn't ready for you to grow up and move on with your life. He hated change.

Niragi had devoted his whole life to taking care of you. He was only five years old when you were born, but had been absolutely smitten with you from the moment he looked at your tiny body swaddled in your mother's arms. He was determined to do anything to keep you safe. In a cruel twist of fate, it was your own father that had made that a challenge. Niragi did what he could to shield you from the abuse over the years; hiding you from the older man's wrath, stepping in to take the blows intended for you, cradling your shaking and crying form at night. But by the time he was sixteen, he'd tolerated enough. He left the house one night for the last time, actively looking for a way to steal you away too.

You had one particularly traumatizing night, one that Niragi will never forget. If you had sustained permanent damage later in life, it would have been because of that night. By the end of it, though, he had the evidence he needed to get emergency placement of you and finally whisk you away to safety. When he was eighteen, the court granted him full legal custody. He had the power to protect you the way he always wanted to.

It wasn't as though your father had cared about keeping you, no. He hadn't even wanted either of you in the first place; having children was just another way for his toxic ass to manipulate and control your mother. Once she was gone, it was you that he'd wanted to manipulate. Too similar. Having custody of you was the only way he could control you, a literal child. Once you were with Niragi, you were finally free.

So yeah, he's really only known a life of being your caregiver, your provider, your protector. It did hurt that someday, relatively soon, you'd graduate from medical school and become a doctor. You'd be living the dreams that you had worked so hard for. You'd move out and eventually marry Chishiya - he smirked fondly at that thought. You two were stubborn and hadn't acknowledged your feelings yet, but he knew you would. Someday. He would be proud and happy for you, of course. But when someday came, then Niragi would be all alone. Abandoned. Stuck with his thoughts. Stuck with the side of him that he has trampled so far down that no one ever has to see it. So that you never have to see it.

When you no longer needed him, he would be forced to finally face the truth. There was darkness inside him from the years of abuse. Torture. Of not being good enough for the one person that was supposed to accept you no matter what. Niragi would have to face the fact that despite being your true parent all these years - a good parent, at that - he was not a good person.

And so, he clings to you. Babies you a little bit more than a 19 year old maybe should be. To hell with it really, you were still so young. So hurt. Maybe it's not a question of how much you need him anymore, but how much he needs you. How much he needs you to need him.

Niragi feels suffocated by his own thoughts and yanks the tie away from his neck. Why the fuck did he even agree to wear a tie? Dressing up for dinner is wildly overrated, truly. Next month he'll be suggesting the ramen place on the corner. He's interrupted from his freak out by a loud crackling sound and a flash. Fireworks? The sun hasn't even set yet. What a waste of someone's time.

He turns to re-enter the restaurant and face his stuck up coworkers again. They don't need to know he's having an existential crisis, he'll reign it in. He'll play their game. As the door opens and he looks around, all he sees is dark. Huh? He'd heard of mood lighting, but this was just ridiculous.

The further Niragi walks into the building, the thicker the air felt. Previously lit chandeliers swinging slightly, ominously. Food and drinks sat waiting for the patrons that ordered them, though if Niragi didn't know better, he would have said it had been sitting there for more than just a few minutes. Strange.

"Hello?" He calls, voice echoing. Was this a prank? He felt irritation prickle under his skin. He didn't like being the butt of a joke. What in the fuck was going on? He unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt, rolling up the sleeves. Trying to breathe more easily.

He didn't know what was going on, but decided that having a weapon couldn't hurt. If it was all a prank, he would just turn it back around on them. He made his way quietly through the dining room and towards the swinging double doors to the kitchen. Presuming that he wouldn't find a gun anywhere - his weapon of choice - a knife would be the next best thing. He searched through the drawers stuffed full of cutlery and along the polished metallic counters, finally settling on a large butcher's knife. This would work for now.

His mind is already on you again, on figuring out if you were here in this place too. You were supposed to be having dinner at that cafe that you and Chishiya were obsessed with, down the street. That would be a good place to start.

Navigating Shibuya was usually an unimaginable pain in the ass that Niragi would do anything to avoid, but not today. It seemed that all of Tokyo was under this strange spell, dark and devoid of human life. Honestly, if he didn't have you to worry about, he'd say it was even kind of nice. Peaceful.

But the thing is, he DID have you to worry about, and he WAS worried. What if something happened to you and you were hurt? Or worse? His eyes widened as he allowed his brain to run away with possibilities. Sprinting. Niragi was now sprinting down the street like a track star towards the usually obnoxiously colored cafe, now standing hauntingly in the shadows.

He could almost see the ghost of you in his memories running too, racing Chishiya down the street to see who could get there first. You would win, you always win.

The man sighed dejectedly, opening the glass door to the completely empty cafe. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he looked around for any indication that you had even been here in the first place.

He approached the booth you always chose, the one with the picture of the fat tabby cat. The one pet you'd always begged for and he never let you have. Regret. His eyes flick to the seat - lying against the window was your brown leather school bag, the one he'd gotten for you to start medical school with. He dives into the booth to snatch it up; so you HAD been here.

Setting the bag on the table, he searches in vain for a clue that he already knew wouldn't be there. He had to be sure. Among your collection of stationary and textbooks, he found a crumpled up packet of paper - your physiology exam from the other day.

He glances over it, eyes catching on the 62/100 marked in the red at the top. He clicked his tongue, so this is what had you so worked up yesterday. It really wasn't the worst score in the world, certainly not worth your panic and tears. Niragi's heart constricted remembering how you'd wailed in his arms afraid he was disappointed in you.

He could never be disappointed in you.

If by some miracle he does find you, and does get you back to your normal life, he's going to get you that fat tabby cat. Maybe even two of them.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Niragi climbed the stairs of the multi-story building that the two of you called home, feeling as though he just summited Mount Fuji. Why had he chosen a multi-story building again? He let out a breathless chuckle - you were constantly complaining about the stairs in this building. It would have made you grin like the Cheshire cat himself to see him huffing and puffing.

The only other place you'd go was home, right? You sure as hell wouldn't go to Chishiya's - even if his father was home (which he wouldn't be), he was a total asshole. Neither of you would find comfort there. No, you'd be looking for HIM, you needed him. He felt sick thinking about it. But also? Weirdly grateful. He had more time.

"There is nowhere you can be taken that I won't find you, I promise."

The man groaned, that promise was not exactly holding water so far. Unlocking the door, he slams it open, anxiety building in anticipation. It took him maybe five seconds to register that the house was empty, you weren't here. He called out for you anyway, delaying the inevitable. No response. He flops down on the couch, throwing his right arm over his eyes, shoes still on. He can't imagine it matters in a world like this. Niragi smiled fondly, you would have a field day with that, no rules.

Niragi knew he needed to figure out what was going on, so that when he did find you, he'd be able to help. To fix it. That's what he did, what he knew. But how do you start finding information in a world like this, that just has nothing?

Suddenly, a steady stream of bright white light flashes and filters through the large bay window across the room. Niragi bolts up and rushes to find the source, squinting against the brightness that his eyes weren't accustomed to. A sign spanning the full height and width of one of the large buildings near the city center had lit up from within the darkness. A beacon. Players this way?

It gave him more questions than answers, but it didn't look like he had any other options. Maybe you would see the sign too. This could be his best chance at finding you, you did love playing games after all.

You wouldn't pass up a chance to win, would you?

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

This was not the kind of game that Niragi had signed up for. He had been thinking cards, maybe video games, maybe even laser tag. No. This game? Coded Eight of Spades and titled The Hunt. How to win? Stay alive and eliminate everyone on the opposing team.

Eliminate, just a softer way to say slaughter. It had been a blood bath. Twenty people joined the game with them, ten per team. By the end, there were only three remaining - Niragi and two of his teammates. What was worse? He hadn't hated it. He was grateful that you weren't there, but he hadn't hated it.

The beast he'd long kept locked away now wide awake.

As he tried to catch his breath and wrap his mind around what the fuck that just was, he gave each of the men standing with him a once over. One was skinny, with flowing hair and an eerily perky attitude. It's giving cult leader. The other was large and muscular, hair cropped short. He looked like he took no shit from anyone - Niragi liked that.

[Game Clear - Congratulations]

Niragi scoffed at the cheerful voice, how strange to hear something that contrasted so starkly to his surroundings. He turned to leave, coated in layers of blood and sweat, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned back in irritation, finding the long-haired guy right behind him. Niragi was not in the mood to be touched.

"You were brilliant with the way you fought, you really know how to handle a weapon!" cult leader praises, causing Niragi to roll his eyes. Amazing what trauma can do for you, right? Like a caged animal trying to survive. "We want you to come with us. This is Aguni, my personal protection unit. You can call me Hatter," the man grins. Creepy. Niragi couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but the grave expression on Aguni's face told him that he wasn't.

He looks between the two men dubiously, "And why the fuck would I do that? I have better things to do than be a second personal guard to you." Caged animal.

Hatter doesn't react to Niragi's outburst, doesn't even flinch, "We're building a utopia, somewhere for players to go when they aren't playing games! Somewhere they'll be safe and can enjoy what time they have left," he explains, gesturing grandiosely. So it is a cult, then.

The man considers it for a minute, having learned from the other players about the Visa system; he would have to keep playing to stay alive. It wasn't just a one time deal. But no. He can't just go and play house with two guys he'll never be able to trust, he has an ACTUAL house to protect - you.

"I can't help you. There's someone I need to find," he mumbles, turning away once more. He misses the way that Hatter's face lights up at that, "ah, but there's strength in numbers, my friend! We have a few others already gathered, and more will be coming! You can come with us to The Beach, work alongside Aguni to make the utopia safe, and everyone will help you look for your missing person!"

Niragi freezes his retreat at this - the weird guy is right. There are games all over Tokyo, and you could have gotten pulled to any one of them. You could be anywhere. You could be dead. That thought haunted him like a ghost, but no. THAT wasn't a possibility he was willing to entertain.

Against his better judgement, Niragi agrees to return with the men to The Beach. As they make the trek back to Hatter's so called utopia, the man finds himself lost in self reflection.

It had been too easy for him to kill, it had felt too right. He hadn't even been afraid when the game started, just charged full of electricity. He wanted to tell himself it was because he knew he had to survive to win. That to win meant he could get to you. But it wasn't that, not really. Because as soon as his adrenaline was pumping in that arena, Niragi had changed. His vision was red. Angry. So angry. Like every person that entered his line of sight was his worst enemy. Like it would be a joy to kill them. Like his inner demons had finally clawed their way to the surface.

He glances at the two men conversing quietly beside him - he knew they couldn't be trusted, that whoever else they had gathered couldn't be trusted. Every person in this place will have a selfish and ulterior motive - animals that are backed into a corner will fight, guaranteed. The Beach would not be the safe utopia that Hatter was promising, no. It would be an even more dangerous and toxic place - men thirsting for the power and notoriety they hadn't had in the old world. It was not going to be a good place to be.

You would be brought there too, Niragi had just guaranteed it. Guaranteed that your safety would be in jeopardy at the hands of tyrannical villains. Why the hell had he agreed? Even without being given more information, Niragi already knew that you'd not be able to leave at your own will. That once you were there, you'd be stuck in a cage thinly veiled as your saving grace, they all would.

What the fuck had he been thinking? Niragi's brain was running at a million miles a minute. He had to think of all the possibilities. Stay five steps ahead of everyone else.

So maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world - they say it is best to keep your enemies closer than your friends, right? Even so, he needed to start coming up with a plan to get you out when things inevitably came crashing down. It would take some time, and hopefully you would have cracked the code to beating the games and getting home by then. But how could he ensure you'd not get hurt or be messed with while he worked on this? Having Chishiya at your side would help, no doubt. One icy look from him would drop most people dead on contact. Chishiya would be a powerful ally to his plan. But for the very persistent, even they wouldn't mess with a girl who has a psychotic brother, right? Just one game in, and Niragi was already certain he'd changed. He was sure that it wouldn't take much to play the part of a violent and unpredictable man, it was just channeling what he already had inside him. He was broken, but could he use this defect to an advantage?

Deep down in his gut, though, he was a little bit afraid to willingly unleash the beast. What if he lost his own game? How far would he let himself go before he admitted it wasn't just a game, wasn't just to keep you safe? That you would see what he had become and hate him forever for becoming the one thing he always promised not to be? Your father.

Niragi was giving himself a headache with all these thoughts. He really should have been sitting in therapy beside you all those years, instead of waiting in the parking lot.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

It's a hotel. The sanctuary that Hatter and Aguni were talking about was a fucking hotel. Some utopia. Niragi is impressed enough by the hotel having working electricity and water, so he says nothing. He didn't think there was much room for complaining in a world as unforgiving as this.

Not having much time to observe his surroundings, Niragi is pulled immediately into a conference room colored in tacky yellows and browns, warm yellowed light casting shadows around the room. Yuck. He notices the large meeting table hosts two people waiting patiently. A sharp looking woman with her hair cut into a bob, lips painted cherry red and sunglasses hiding her eyes. An interesting choice for night time. The man sat across from her has thin wired glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and has his hands clasped in front of his mouth. He might be the most serious looking person Niragi has ever seen.

He hears the hiss of spray paint leaving a can and looks to the far wall - there is a second woman with long black hair diligently working on painting it. With pictures of playing cards? She turns to look at the group entering the room, smile spreading widely on her face at the sight of Niragi. Eerie.

"Greetings, Citizens of the Beach!" Hatter booms from behind him ceremoniously, "Please join me in welcoming the newest addition to the militant corps - Niragi!" The three people in the room clap obligingly, nearly robotic in their movements. Well trained puppets already, then.

The man just stares blankly back at everyone, unsure of how to act when you're being presented like a trophy. A trophy covered in sweat and blood. Hatter doesn't mind the awkward silence, though, continuing on with his speech, "He was incredible! Truly! Helping us clear the Eight of Spades and not a scratch on any of us! He might have killed even more men than Aguni!" Niragi's eyebrow twitched, but he stayed quiet.

Hatter lowers his volume a bit, thank goodness, approaching the head of the conference table. "He's agreed to join us on the condition that we help him locate someone. I feel it will be easier if we're all looking when we're out in the city and playing games. So, who are we looking for, Niragi? A long lost lover, perhaps?" Hatter wiggles his eyebrows annoyingly, and Niragi has to take a deep breath so as not to drop him where he stands. It will be very hard not to murder this man.

He shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Trying to decide if he really should subject you to this place. What can he say? He's selfish. If he was going to be stuck here, he wanted to at least have you here too, "my little sister." Aguni's head snaps up at this, actually looking at Niragi as he describes you. Interesting. "She'll be with a guy, her best friend. He has shoulder length blonde hair and condescending eyes," Niragi continues, "He's a real smartass and he'll be protective of her. Don't try to cross him, either. He's smarter than you."

Everyone nods, committing the information to their memories, preparing to look for you the next time they go out to play. Hatter gestures for everyone to sit around the table, "Come! We have much to discuss! Our foundation for The Beach must be strong, unwavering!" For hours, they deliberate. Rules, the atmosphere Hatter wanted to cultivate, rankings, everything. Niragi's head was spinning by the end, and he truly regretted his choice; the saying about enemies be damned. He was so tired.

Finally, in what must have been the very early hours of the morning, Hatter dismisses the group. Niragi is the first to stand, stretching slightly and turning to go. To finally lay down after what was the longest day of his life. Facing the door, away from the other Beach members, he says callousely, "make sure everyone knows that if anything happens to her, I will burn this place to the ground."

Hatter nods slowly and somberly at this statement, still sitting with his hands clasped on the table. "The Beach?" He clarifies.

He shakes his head, turning back to meet Hatter's eyes in contempt, "Tokyo."

This was the only choice, the only way. Let the game begin.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Previous Chapter

Tag List: @moonchild323232

Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) the tag list! Also, my asks and messages are open, PLEASE reach out, I would literally die to interact with you; ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[readingiskeepingmegoing]

Amazing chapter! So much going on.

That was Pope’s siren call. He immediately stuck his head out of his office after spending the last 30 minutes ignoring our conversation about scheduling issues while he no doubt played games on his phone.

He shrugged, “I’m just calling it as I see it. She’s hot. You should ask her out before Pope does…just to piss him off if nothing else.” “If we take this job…she’s off limits.” I cut my eyes toward the one I was most worried about following that rule, “You hear me, Pope? She’s a client. Nothing else.” They all exchanged knowing glances before Pope spoke, “I’ll be sure to remind you of that as needed, hermano.”

Pope is going to bring it up st every possible opportunity

She looked like a fucking dream. The words from the passage I had read, manipulative and seductive, passed through my mind again. I needed to watch myself with her. It already felt like she had some sort of power over me, and I was pretty sure my dick was taking the lead on submitting to it. Maybe Pope was right. Maybe I did need to get laid - by someone other than her just so I could get it out of my system.

That's just not going to work Frankie. She's under your skin now and you are officially done for.

“I needed to be sure I could trust you. Can I trust you…Frankie?”

With your life.

I felt my jaw tighten and my nostrils flare in frustration as I gave her an admonishing look. “You’re already pissing me off and we haven’t even started yet…”

I can already tell that it will get so much worse before it gets better, but Frankie will end up loving every second of it.

The man with greasy looking slicked back hair and a scowl didn’t seem too happy to see me. I almost felt like he was sizing me up and ready to attack at any given second.

I had to remind myself to keep this professional - that she was off limits to me too.

Keep telling yourself that Fish! 🤣

His eyes briefly shifted to the window before coming back to me, “Who was that? Anyone we need to be concerned about?”

Ooooh, jealous much, Veracruz?

It’s not like it wasn’t tempting. Veracruz looked like sex on two legs and had been very attentive toward me.

The lady has impeccable taste

The way his arms and chest flexed in the tight grey t-shirt he had been wearing today definitely couldn’t be ignored.

Not for a second

If I wasn’t careful, there was a real possibility he could be trouble for me - as in causing me to fuck up and let my guard down.

Well get ready hun, because that is a foregone conclusion

Frankie and Mya are going to give each other hell, but neither of them is going to mind too much, in the end 🤣 Frankie is going to push back and resist things more than Mya is used to, and Mya is going to make Frankie take risks.

I can't wait for more of Frankie and Veracruz together fronting each other out. I also think Veracruz and Pope will push each other's buttons too.

Buried Secrets Chapter 2: The Divine Source

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile.

Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

Word Count: 10.6k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

Chapter A/N: The beginning of this chapter was previously released as a longer teaser, but there have been minor changes since then. So, if you feel like you have read the first little bit, that could be why. 😉

Chapter Quote: “You’re already pissing me off and we haven’t even started yet…”

Frankie’s POV                                      I stood leaning against the door frame to my office, arms crossed over my chest as I listened to Benny run through our options for schedule changes. Will stood nearby, listening intently and occasionally offering up his opinion. He was about to speak when his attention was drawn to movement outside the front window, “Hey guys, looks like we got a new client. A fancy blacked-out SUV just pulled up.” 

That automatically had my attention, my mind jumping to thoughts of a similar vehicle passing by my house a couple of weeks prior. 

Benny moved to stand next to his brother to peer out the window, “Oh damn, this chic’s hot.”

That was Pope’s siren call. He immediately stuck his head out of his office after spending the last 30 minutes ignoring our conversation about scheduling issues while he no doubt played games on his phone. 

“Did you say you needed me, Ben?” he asked nonchalantly, just as our topic of conversation walked in. Pope nearly tripped over his own feet when he caught sight of her. Not that I could blame him. She commanded the attention of the room as soon as she stepped over the threshold and took off her expensive looking sunglasses.

For me, it really didn’t have anything to do with her looks. She just had this magnetic aura that drew you in and intimidated the fuck out of you. She was dressed in a black pants suit that hugged her curves in all the right places, yet still leaving everything to the imagination. Her spiked heels added a few inches to her height as she confidently walked across the lobby with her shoulders back and chin up. Her long mahogany hair swung around her shoulders, perfectly straight with no strands out of place. She was sexy as fuck and not our typical clientele. 

We all seemed to be stunned into silence as she came to a stop just in front of where we had congregated near the conference room entrance. Benny was the one to speak up first, standing a little straighter before he opened his mouth. “Hi there ma’am, can we help you with something?” he sputtered out.

“I’d like to speak with Mr. Morales please,” she said without hesitation.

Benny stood there, mouth hanging open as his eyes shifted to me. Will spoke then, “Mr. Morales typically doesn’t meet with new clients. Mr. Miller here and I handle that.” 

She feigned a polite smile, “I realize that, but I would prefer to speak with the owner directly as this is a bit urgent and sensitive. I’m sure you can understand.” 

Her tone made it clear that was her final answer. Pope obviously didn’t read the room as he stepped forward to intervene, turning on his charm and giving his best flirty smile, “If you wanna step into my office, we can have a chat about your situation. I’m sure I can get you taken care of.” 

Her eyes narrowed on him, a playful smirk forming on her lips as she scanned him from head to toe, “I don’t believe you’re Mr. Morales.” 

Pope’s mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. The woman’s eyes shifted to me as her smile widened, “But you are. Mind if we have a chat in private?” 

I was momentarily frozen by the intensity of her gaze, then confused about how she knew I was who she was looking for. My brows arched as I pursed my lips. We just sort of stared at each other for a brief moment. It felt like she was analyzing every move I made as her gaze raked over me. I uncrossed my arms and moved aside, motioning for her to step into my office. 

I glanced over at the guys, all three of them watching her retreating form. If I looked hard enough, I could probably see the drool coming out of Pope’s mouth as he salivated over the possibilities. His eyes finally met mine, sparkling with mischief as he smiled and said, “Será mejor que cierres ese trato.” (You better close that deal.)

I rolled my eyes at his insinuation, “Vete a la mierda,” (Fuck off.) 

I could hear Benny and Will snickering as I turned to join the puzzling woman waiting in my office. After closing the door behind me, I was met with her amused expression as she stood with one arm across her chest, the other propped on it so she could rest her chin on her fingers. 

“Do you always let him flirt with clients?” she asked in an amused tone.

I shrugged, “I do enjoy watching him stick his foot in his mouth. I can’t help myself.” 

She chuckled as our gazes met. My heart rate suddenly spiked as I cleared my throat and moved to lean against the desk, “So, you gotta name? Seems like you already know mine.”

She smiled, not moving from where she stood, “Sorry, that was rude of me to not introduce myself. I’m Mya Carnahan.”

I crossed my arms, “Well, Miss Carnahan, what can Delta 5 Security Solutions help you with?”

She dropped her hands to her sides, smiling up at me through her lashes, “Getting right to it then…I like that.” 

I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched her unbutton her blazer. Her hands snaked into the pockets of her pants as she began to pace my office and claim control over our conversation. I could already tell she was going to be a problem. I just wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad one. Maybe both. 

“I’ll be leading an archeological dig in the Southeastern Peruvian jungle. I’m gonna need security for my team while we’re there.”

My brows furrowed, “And why would an archeological dig site need our kind of security?”

She paused her pacing to look at me, “The locals won’t exactly be excited about it. Many believe those sites should remain untouched because of old Incan legends. We also have the narcos to worry about. I’m sure you’re aware drugs are heavily trafficked down there?”

I nodded, obviously very familiar with that fact. I was already feeling reluctant about taking this on. I knew exactly what this would lead to once I told Pope about it. The location was too close to where we stashed Lorea's money. He would want to go back for it. I also had a weird feeling about this situation. I didn’t know if I could trust this woman. 

“The narcos sometimes move product through those remote areas, have stash houses, and even cultivate in the middle of the jungle. If we were to...unknowingly encroach on their territory, they wouldn’t hesitate to put an end to things.” 

I pushed off my desk, moving to stand with my hands on my hips, “Not trying to be rude, but you don’t strike me as an archaeologist. What exactly is it that you do, Miss Carnahan?”

Her eyes were fixed on me as she fought a smile, “When I’m not digging up mummies and old relics, I’m an antiquities dealer. Before you ask…I’m a reputable dealer with ethical sourcing.”

I arched a brow. Somehow, I doubt that. “Who’s your benefactor? I know these digs are expensive. Do I need to be concerned that they’ve pissed anyone off?”

She tucked her plump bottom lip between her teeth, deciding on how to respond. Thoughts of biting that lip myself flashed through my mind. I had to quickly shove them away. 

“That’s confidential information. I’ve been asked to keep it under wraps. Best I can give is that he’s a well-off gentleman that does business on a global scale. So yes, he’s probably pissed a few people off. He doesn’t want his name attached to it. As far as anyone is concerned, the dig is funded by donations, which isn’t completely untrue.” 

I scoffed, “I’m sorry, but if you can’t give me all the information, then I’m not interested in taking this on. I require a certain level of trust with our clients, and I don’t take unnecessary risks.” 

She ignored my response, pacing again and continuing on as if I hadn’t just told her no. 

“I haven’t gotten my team fully assembled yet, but I’m thinking we'll have 30-40 people. We’ll need at least one pilot to fly some of the bigger equipment in. Though, I’d prefer two, just in case we need to make a quick exit. We’re planning to be there for at least three months for the initial expedition. We leave in two weeks.”

I stared at her wide-eyed, “Did you hear what I just said? I’m not interested unless you give me all the information I ask for. And who says we have pilots and enough staff on hand to travel to the Peruvian jungle for three months on short notice?”

She was smiling at me again as she approached, crowding my space as we stood toe to toe. 

“You’re a pilot, right? There’s one…and I know you hire veterans, so I’m betting you have another one. I’d also wager that a lot of your guys would jump at an opportunity to do something like this. I’m sure your three out front would if given the opportunity.”

How the fuck does she know so much? I was beginning to worry this might be some sort of setup to get us back to South America. The thoughts of that blacked out SUV flashed through my mind again. 

“How do you know I’m a pilot?” I asked as I held her gaze.

She turned to look around my office and motioned to the pictures on the wall. I chuckled and nodded. That was a rookie mistake, Fish. 

“I don’t do field work anymore…and like I said…you haven’t told me all the information.”

She leaned in just a little closer, still giving me that sweet smile as the scent of vanilla and jasmine invaded my senses. “I’m fairly confident you’re not gonna turn me down, Mr. Morales. You’re too intrigued.”

I’m not sure intrigued is the correct word at this point.

She pulled a business card from her pocket and held it out in offering. I took it, tracing my fingers over the glossy black material. I briefly examined the shiny gold embossed lettering that spelled out Hathor’s Gallery of Antiquities framed with a gold border. Even her fucking business card seemed expensive.��

“I need to know something by noon tomorrow, or else I’m moving on to another security firm.”

My head snapped up to meet her gaze, “Another firm? There’s no one else locally that can provide what you need.”

She gave me a smug smile, “You sure about that?”

She had to be fucking with me. I couldn’t help puffing out my chest as I replied, “Yeah, I am.”

She moved to open the door, pausing to look back over her shoulder in my direction, “By noon, or else I’m moving on.” 

“We haven’t even discussed payment details,” I added following her to the lobby. 

She halted in the middle of the waiting area to look my way, “You only need to name your price, and I’ll pay it.”  

I could feel the eyes of Benny, Will, and Pope on us as we stared each other down for a beat. I didn’t know how to respond to that as I stood with my jaw clenching. 

“We’ll talk more tomorrow once you’ve officially made your decision," she said as she turned toward the exit. She shifted her attention to the guys still standing outside the conference room entrance, “Mr. Garcia, try to stay outta trouble…Millers, enjoy your afternoon.” 

Without another word, she was gone, climbing into the back of the SUV as the driver held the door open for her. 

“What the hell was that?” Benny asked. 

I sighed and shook my head, “I...don’t fucking know.”

They stood with curious stares, waiting for me to elaborate. Instead, I waved them off and returned to my office. I needed to think through this before I shared anything with them.

After sitting down at my desk, I pulled up the internet browser to do a little research. Hathor’s Gallery of Antiquities had been in business for several years. At least that part of her story added up. It was a legitimate business with a history. As I clicked around on their website, I came across the staff page where I found Mya’s picture next to the title of ‘Owner and Head Curator’. 

I sat staring at the image, realizing there was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t figure out what. Had we met before? That would certainly explain how she knew who I was. No. That’s not it. There was no way I would forget her. There was something sort of exotic about the way she looked, alluring and mysterious. 

My mind drifted back to the blacked-out SUV. Had she been spying on us? She made it obvious that she knew who we all were. How would none of us have noticed that? My gut was telling me something was off about this whole thing. However, she was right. I was intrigued, to put it mildly. 

I continued to click around on the website, eventually coming to a donation page for the Archaeology Preservation Foundation. Listed there were high level details about the proposed expedition. She wasn’t lying about it being funded by donations, but how much could she really get from that? Something like this was going to cost a lot of money, yet she told me to name my price. 

I sank back into the seat and rubbed my hands down my face. This was too good to be true. There had to be a catch. There was a certain level of danger that came along with this, of course, but it did give us a legitimate reason to enter Peru - no fake documents or cover stories needed. We could go down early under the guise of checking out the area for security purposes, fly right over the border, grab the money, then return to the site. 

I had to chastise myself for even going there. I had done nothing but continuously shut Pope down on this, and here I was doing the same damn thing that I had been giving him hell for. There was no way we could accept this job because I knew that it was only going to lead to trouble. 

My thoughts were interrupted by Benny knocking on the door before sticking his head in, “Hey Fish, you ready to head to the gym for training?” 

I glanced at my watch, realizing I had been ruminating on this for an hour and a half. I nodded, “Shit…yeah…sorry, lost track of time. I’ll meet you there.” 

I puffed air out of my cheeks before standing and gathering my things. I made my way to the truck, telling Pope and Will that I would see them at the bar later as I exited. 

When I got to the gym, Benny was already doing leg presses. I quickly changed clothes and joined him but was completely distracted the entire time by my thoughts. Initially I was focused on Lorea’s money, but then my thoughts drifted to Mya Carnahan. I could not wrap my mind around her. She was a puzzle that I couldn’t figure out. Her cool confidence and authoritative attitude baffled me. She was beautiful, no question about it, but she also felt dangerous. There was something enticing about that thought, causing a sudden urge to explore that feeling a little more and get to know her. Though something told me she was going to push every button I had and enjoy the hell out of it. I was now realizing there was a very real possibility that I might enjoy it too. 

Benny pulled me from my thoughts again, “Sooo, you gonna tell us what that meeting was about?”

I shook my head, “I dunno…I haven’t decided yet. I may turn it down. It’s…risky…for several reasons.” 

He chuckled, “Yeah, but if we get to work with someone who looks like that…it might be worth it.” 

I scoffed and shook my head as I met his gaze, “You sound just like Pope.”

He shrugged, “I’m just calling it as I see it. She’s hot. You should ask her out before Pope does…just to piss him off if nothing else.” 

I laughed, “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t give that asshole the time of day. Her taste seems a little too refined…for either of us.” 

Benny was smirking now, “You sure about that? She definitely seemed interested in you…Mr. Morales.” 

He said my name in a high-pitched suggestive tone before chuckling to himself. My eyes narrowed on him, “Fuck off. She didn’t say it like that.”

His brows arched, “You sure? She definitely had a tone...”

I rolled my eyes as I reached for the handle to release the footplate on the leg press machine to begin a new set of reps. I wasn’t going to bother to entertain that conversation any further, that didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about it though. 

After finishing with the weights, we moved to one of the sparring rings. It wasn’t my best day, still too distracted to focus on Benny’s movements. He at least got some practice in, even if it wasn’t much of a challenge. After having my ass handed to me for what felt like the hundredth time, I gave up. Waving my white flag and begging him to move on to the punching bag or call it a day. 

Given the time, we decided to head out. I ran home to take a quick shower before throwing on a fresh set of clothes and grabbing my hat. Afterward, I was on my way to meet the guys at our favorite dive bar. I had given up drinking along with the coke, but I didn’t see any reason to impede on their fun. I still joined them, gorging myself on hot wings and soda instead of beer and tequila. 

I was still on the fence about telling the guys what my meeting with Mya was about, they however, were not giving me any choice on the matter. The badgering began as soon as I sat down at the table. Will seemed more concerned than anything when he inquired. Pope jumped in, being pushy and accusing me of keeping it to myself because I was interested in Mya. He wasn’t completely wrong. I was interested, but I wasn’t entirely sure in what capacity. Benny just wanted to know because he’s a nosey bitch, but also curious about the odd interaction he had witnessed between us in the office. 

I managed to deflect the conversation to another topic the first time it came up. However, that didn’t stop them from throwing jabs at me about it as the night went on. After kicking all their asses at darts, just like I did every time we were there, we settled into our usual secluded corner booth and ordered some wings and another round of beer for them and soda for me. 

Pope inevitably turned the conversation to the bags of cash we had stashed in the Andes, making me feel more anxious than usual. Having new knowledge and a possible plan brewing in my head made me feel fidgety and keyed up. Pope picked up on it immediately. The fact that I hadn’t told him to drop it yet was probably a red flag too. His whispered words about his latest plan trailed off as he eyed me, “What’s going on, Fish? You good?” 

I shrugged, not bothering to look at him as I spoke. “Yeah, I just wish you would stop bringing this up. You know how I feel about it.” 

He leaned forward to catch my gaze, his eyes focusing intently on mine. “What's going on, hermano? Did you…” 

It took a few seconds to dawn on me that he thought I had slipped and fell back on old habits. I could see why, because my behavior was…off. 

I shook my head, “No. Estoy bien.” (I’m fine.) 

He didn’t look convinced as his brows furrowed in doubt. I sighed, rubbing at the back of my neck as my eyes drifted around the small table. I could now see the worry and concern etched on each of their faces. Fuck. I’m gonna have to tell them. 

“That woman that came in today…she has a job for us…”

They all looked confused by the turn of conversation. I leaned back in my seat, still debating telling them even though I knew I was going to. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t something I could keep from them, no matter how much I wanted to. 

I let out a steady breath before continuing, “It’s…an archaeological dig…in Southeastern Peru.”

I stopped there, allowing them to digest that small bit of information. It was obvious when realization hit, causing their eyes to light up from the possibilities of the assignment. Pope was the first to speak, “Fish, we’ve gotta take that. This is our chance…”

I held up my hand to quiet him, “I know, but I do have some concerns…”

They waited for me to continue, all three leaning closer with wide eyes. Pope looked like he was damn near vibrating out of his seat. 

“There’s something…off about this woman…and it seems too good to be true. What if she’s working for the cartels…luring us down there to get us killed? She’s purposely holding back information, and I don’t like that. I’m not sure if we can trust her. There’s a lot of risks here. And even if the job is legit…there’s a very real possibility of live fire. She claims to need security because of the locals and cartels operating in the area. It could get messy…”

Benny grimaced, “Not to be Captain Obvious here, but we run a personal security business. There’s always gonna be risk and a chance for live fire. We knew that going in. If it’s a legit job, that’s literally what we’re here for…to protect people. Whether it be here or Peru.” 

Damn him and his rational way of thinking. Pope of course was quick to agree. Will, on the other hand, was not. He glanced over at his brother and jerked his chin up toward me as he began to speak, “No, Fish is right. There are additional risks here. What if it’s a trap? Even if it’s not, what if they know it’s us and find out we’re there? We need to consider all that before deciding…”

At least one of them sees it my way. I nodded along with what Will said, jumping in to share more details. “This woman knew things about us. I don’t know how much, but she knows who we are. I think she’s been watching us…I’m almost positive I saw that black SUV pass my house a few weeks back.”

Pope slumped back in his seat, the weight of my words finally sinking in. Benny stared at me in confusion, “Why would she need to spy on us for that though?” 

I shrugged, reaching for my glass of soda and taking a sip to soothe my suddenly dry mouth before responding. “That’s the 250 million-dollar question. Like I said, something is off about the whole thing. And besides that, the expedition lasts three months…in the middle of the Amazon jungle. If it is legit, it won’t be easy.”

I could tell the wheels were turning in all their heads as we sat in silence for several minutes. It was Pope who finally broke it, “What if we check into her, get some more background…see who she’s affiliated with…” 

I chuckled, “That would be ideal, but we don’t have time. I have to let her know something by tomorrow or else she says she’s moving on to another security firm.”

Will’s brows pinched together, “There’s no one else around here that can handle that…”

I nodded along, “I know…that’s what I said, but she insisted she had another firm in mind.” 

All three mumbled out an annoyed, “bullshit” in unison. I shared their sentiment because I knew we were the best. No other firm came close to offering what we could.

Will peered over at me with a pensive look, “What’s your gut telling you?”  

I puffed air out of my cheeks as I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table. “I honestly don't know. I couldn’t get a read on her.”

I pulled my hat off to push my hair away from my face before plopping it back onto my head. “Maybe…Maybe I go talk with her tomorrow…See what other information I can get and go from there? I need some questions answered before we agree to anything.” 

They all nodded as apprehensive looks passed between them, letting the silence stretch out for a beat. Benny’s lips tugged upward as he met my gaze, “So…if she passes the vibe check, you gonna ask her out? Because if not…” 

The admonishing look I shot Benny’s way caused his words to trail off into a snicker. “If we take this job…she’s off limits.” I cut my eyes toward the one I was most worried about following that rule, “You hear me, Pope? She’s a client. Nothing else.” 

They all exchanged knowing glances before Pope spoke, “I’ll be sure to remind you of that as needed, hermano.” 

I rolled my eyes as I stood from the table, “I don’t have to stick around and listen to this shit.”

Benny laughed before elbowing his brother, leaning over to speak conspiratorially, “He’s gotta go get his beauty sleep…can’t be looking haggard when he meets with the hot archaeologist.” 

They all laughed louder than necessary. I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose, “Keep it up Ben, and I’ll dock your pay and leave your ass on desk duty while we’re living out your Indiana Jones fantasies in the middle of the Amazon jungle.” 

He was not amused by that, scoffing before giving me the middle finger. I returned the sentiment with a playful grin. Having gotten the last word, I made my exit. 

Ben wasn’t far off; I did want to get a decent night’s rest before my conversation with Mya. I felt like I needed to be alert and on top of my game. I needed to sort out my thoughts and think through the things I wanted answers to. I wasn’t sure if I would get any of it from her, but I was damn sure going to try. 

I took my time going through my routine the next morning, even having an extra cup of coffee before heading out the door. I was feeling strangely anxious about my impending conversation, and I didn’t really understand why.

When I parked in front of Hathor's Gallery of Antiquities, I felt a tightening in my chest. It was a familiar feeling that I hadn’t had in some time, not since Lorea’s. I felt like I was going into battle. 

I inhaled a few deep breaths, attempting to clear my muddled thoughts as I took in the exterior of the gallery. It had an old-world feel in the design with large columns lining the entryway. There were two identical statues on either side of the doors. They looked to be Egyptian, a woman with horns supporting a red circular disk as a crown. 

Curiosity got the best of me as I pulled out my phone, doing a quick google search for “Hathor Egypt”. I tapped on the first link in the search results. The included images on the page banner looked similar to the statues in front of the establishment. I scrolled down, one passage catching my attention: 

Hathor is known as the Egyptian goddess of love (among other identities). She possessed the ability to manipulate any mortal, God, or beast to do her bidding. She is known to be as wild and menacing as she is warm-hearted and seductive. She did not hesitate to inflict harm on those who stood in her path and would do whatever necessary to reach her goals. 

Hathor was consort to many gods, but most notably acted as the Eye of Ra. She served as Ra’s feminine equal, often called ‘The Golden One’, wielding his powers and becoming vengeful in her pursuit to protect him from his enemies. In these instances, she is sometimes depicted as four striking cobras or a lioness… 

I had to stop reading as goosebumps formed on my flesh. Something about that description had my head spinning. I had a feeling that the goddess Hathor was not chosen at random. If anything, I felt like I was reading a description of Mya, but I wasn’t sure why considering I had hardly spent any time with her. I sighed, slipping my phone back into my pocket as I stepped out of the truck and made my way toward the entrance. 

The inside of the gallery looked about how you would expect, matching the old-world aesthetics of the outside and feeling oddly like a museum. The same large columns from the outer entrance were strategically placed along the inner atrium. I realized now they had intricate carvings that extended to various stone focal points on the walls. My eyes were drawn to a carving of four cobras above a mural depicting an Egyptian deity who had the head of a bird and was standing on a boat. There was something about it that drew me in and held my attention. So much so, that I didn’t hear the petite brunette approach and come to a stop at my side. 

I could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke, “Ra’s journey across the sky…it’s a beautiful representation of the story.” 

I glanced over at her with a small smile of my own, “Oh yeah? What’s it represent?” 

Her eyes sparked and suddenly seemed excited that someone had shown interest. “Do you know much about Egyptian gods?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Very little, but I do find the subject fascinating.” 

Her smile widened, “Ra was a God of Gods and father to the pharaohs…he ruled the sun and heavens….and was known as the giver of life. He was a protector but had the capacity to bring great destruction. He’s often depicted with the head of a falcon wearing the sun disc as a crown to symbolize his power and connection to the sky.”

She paused, raising her hand to the mural, pointing out small details as she continued, “This is one of the most popular reliefs of Ra… it shows him sailing the celestial waters on his solar boat by day. By night, he battles the serpent known as Apophis…it’s meant to show the struggle between light and darkness.”

Oddly enough, I found Ra to be incredibly relatable. Too bad he didn’t have the head of a catfish instead. I turned to the woman beside me with questioning eyes, “I’m assuming this mural was chosen for a reason. How does it relate to the goddess, Hathor?”

She gave me a toothy grin. “You’re very astute. Hathor was the wife of Ra and his defender. She was also known as the divine mother of Pharaohs. She’s often referenced as the Eye of Ra…” she said as her small hand moved to point at another prominent figure in the mural. 

“The sun disc on her crown is often represented as an eye…she joins Ra on the voyage, stealthily surveilling for signs of danger from Apophis.”

I had to laugh to myself given I had just been drawing parallels between Mya and Hathor and myself and Ra. It almost seemed like a cruel joke. I half wondered if Benny had set this up as payback for threatening his Indiana Jones fantasies. 

My attention shifted back to the woman, still giving her a gentle smile, “Well, that was a riveting history lesson. I wasn’t expecting to learn something new when I walked through the door.” 

The woman smiled up at me, flushing slightly as her eyes scanned my face. She held out her hand, “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself before I started rambling. I’m Emily, head Archivist.” 

I shook her hand, “Frankie Morales…and not a problem. It was interesting, really.”

Her eyes widened slightly, “Oh, Mr. Morales…Miss Carnahan said you might be stopping by.” 

My brows pinched together as she turned and motioned for me to follow her. I never said I would be stopping by…

I followed behind Emily, watching as she pulled out her phone, furiously texting as she shuffled through the building. We eventually came to a long hallway with two very large ornately carved oak doors at the end. She turned toward me with a timid smile, not looking at me directly. 

“Miss Carnahan’s office is just through those doors. She’s expecting you.” 

She gave me a small head nod before disappearing in the direction we had come. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, noting her odd dismissal before making my way to the double doors and feeling my stomach flutter slightly. 

When I entered, the sheer size of the space took me off guard. There were floor to ceiling shelves covered in books on every wall, small tables with scrolls and books stacked haphazardly, and a large wooden desk with two leather wingback chairs in front of it. The same large columns found throughout the building separated the space into smaller sections. My eyes finally drifted to Mya, who was leaning over a large wooden table covered in maps, documents, and more books. Her attention was intently focused on whatever she was looking at. 

I ambled toward her, taking in the curve of her ass in the tight black leather-like pants she was wearing. Her loose and flowy black satin blouse draped over her torso with the front of it tucked in. It had a dangerously low v-neckline that framed a gold medallion necklace hanging between her barely covered breasts. Her hair was twisted up into a messy bun, held in place with what looked like a pencil? She was barefooted, having abandoned the very tall strappy heels that sat nearby. She had dark rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose as she shuffled some pages around. 

She looked like a fucking dream. The words from the passage I had read, manipulative and seductive, passed through my mind again. I needed to watch myself with her. It already felt like she had some sort of power over me, and I was pretty sure my dick was taking the lead on submitting to it. Maybe Pope was right. Maybe I did need to get laid - by someone other than her just so I could get it out of my system. 

She peered up at me over the top of her glasses, still leaning forward and causing her low neckline to hang loosely from her body, which revealed the curve of her breast. She definitely wasn’t wearing a bra. My brain must have short circuited over the sight, because I had apparently stopped several feet in front of her, staring like an idiot. 

Her brows arched as she smirked at me and stood upright, “It’s good to see you Mr. Morales. I wondered if you would be stopping by today.”

I cleared my throat, “How did you know I wouldn’t just call?” 

She reached up and pulled the pencil from her hair, shaking the silky looking strands loose as they fell around her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it as she approached me with a teasing look, “Something told me this was a conversation you would wanna have in person.”

I diverted my eyes, trying my hardest not to look at her chest as she fiddled with her hair. My gaze landed on her bare feet, realizing her toes were painted a deep red color. It felt strangely intimate to see her bare feet. My attention was drawn away from them by her chuckle as she stopped in front of me, “You see something you like Mr. Morales?”

I choked out a laugh, “I just think it’s funny you’re walking around barefooted. You seem a little too…sophisticated…to do something like that.” 

She was still giving me that fucking smirk when my eyes finally met hers. I now realized they were the deepest shade of blue, like sapphires. I could easily get lost in them. 

“I apologize; my feet were killing me. It’s been a long day already…but, you have a lot to learn about me, Mr. Morales. I’m only sophisticated when the occasion calls for it,” she finally said.

She enunciated the word ‘sophisticated’ in a mocking tone, like it was a joke. 

I smirked back at her, “Excuse me. My mistake. I guess I do have a lot to learn…how about we start with how you seem to know so much about me and my team? Have you been spying on us?” 

She was smiling now. Not the least bit embarrassed at having been caught. She took off her glasses, rolling her shoulders back as she tilted her chin upward, almost defiantly, to look me directly in the eye. Her expression shifted to something more serious.

“I needed to be sure I could trust you. Can I trust you…Frankie?” 

The fact that she called me ‘Frankie’ didn’t go unnoticed. She said it with what I could only describe as vulnerability. She was attempting to create familiarity between us. It was a manipulation tactic. I couldn’t help smiling, I was on to her.

“You can if you cut out the manipulation bullshit. I’ll be as straight with you as you are with me. Otherwise, I can play the game just as well as you can.” 

She smiled briefly, before turning serious again. “Touché… Alright, fine. Serious question though, can I trust you? If I can’t…this stops here.” 

My brows furrowed. What did she really expect me to say? No? “Of course. I take my job seriously.” 

She stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to make a decision. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she nodded slightly, “Ok…Does this mean you’re taking the job then?”

I scoffed, “No. It doesn’t. You still haven’t answered all my questions.”  

Her shoulders dropped, “Yes, I was watching you. I have been for weeks. I needed to make sure you could handle this…and that you won’t fuck me over.” 

I snorted out a laugh and tried not to be distracted by her saying the words ‘fuck me’. “So, I guess we passed your assessment then? What the hell is this, Mya? What are you trying to get us mixed up in?” 

She inhaled deeply, “If you accept the job, I’ll answer any questions you have.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Ok, let’s start with…who’s paying for it?” 

Her mouth fell open slowly before she answered, “I told you; it’s funded by donations. That’s all you need to know.”

I shook my head, “How the hell am I supposed to trust you when you can’t answer that basic question?”

She rubbed her hands together as her eyes wandered around the room to avoid mine, “I swear, I’ll answer any question you have aside from that one. I’ve been asked not to share that information…I gave my word, and I plan to stick to it. You can respect that, right?” 

I did have to respect that. I stood there with my hands on my hips, trying to get a read on her. She seemed more sincere at this moment than she had been so far.  

“I swear, if at any point, you need to know who it is…I’ll tell you. Right now, it’s not a need to know,” she added. 

I sighed and nodded as I rubbed at the back of my neck, “Ok…fine. I need you to be honest with me if this is gonna work. No secrets…aside from that one…I guess. I need to know what kind of risks we’re up against. Don’t be jerking me around…this could get dangerous. People could die.” 

She nodded, “I know…and that’s why I want the best looking out for my team. They’re all good people…in it for the right reasons. I need for them to be safe.” 

There was something in her tone. It was almost anxious and weary. Her mask of confidence was slipping. 

“You’re people? And what about you? You need to be safe too,” I said. 

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I can take care of myself. I’m not worried about me. I’m hiring you to protect them.”

I felt my stomach turn sour over her words. Something told me she probably needed the most protection out of all of them, but I knew she would never admit to it if I asked. 

I sighed, “I can get you a team of 15 guys, with three pilots for the full three months. You’re looking at 2 million…and that’s not covering the air assets or supplies.”

Her eyes narrowed on me, “Are you one of the three pilots?” I nodded in affirmation. She seemed almost relieved before continuing.

“If I make it four mil to start and put you in charge of securing the assets and supplies that your team needs, will that work?”

My head was spinning. Is she for real? Against my better judgement, I made my decision. My jaw ticked, “Alright. We’ll do it. Now I need you to tell me what the fuck I’m signing up for.” 

Her lips curled upward into a brilliant smile as some of the tension left her body, her facade dropping some. She motioned toward the table for me to follow her, “What I’m about to tell you…no one else knows the full context of it. I’m trusting that it will stay between you and me. You can’t even tell your team. None of them. You got it?”   

I was a little taken aback by that, but I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll keep it between us.” 

Her eyes roamed my face, analyzing and calculating, seeming satisfied before continuing. 

“What do you know about the lost Incan city Paititi?”

I shrugged, biting back a laugh, “Is that like…El Dorado?” There’s no way she’s serious. 

She sighed, “Umm, some researchers conflate the two…but to me, no. It’s two different things. El Dorado is more mythical. That name gets slapped on any legend that mentions a city of gold. However, some people refer to Paititi as El Dorado, but the city itself did actually exist from what history tells us. It’s not myth.”

I nodded along, still trying to keep a straight face. She huffed air out of her cheeks, “I can tell you think I’m crazy. Just…let me explain. OK?”

I gave her a polite smile, “OK. Explain. What makes you think you can find Paititi?” 

She hesitated. I arched my eyebrows, waiting for her to continue. She began to shuffle through the mess of documents and books on the table, pausing to grab a worn leather-bound journal. 

“This is the part I need for you to keep to yourself…”

I drew an ‘x’ over my heart, “I promise. Not a word.” 

I could tell whatever she was about to say was a big deal, to her at least. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. 

“In 2001, a researcher found a manuscript in the Vatican archives that went into detail about the location of Paititi. It had been dated to around 1600 and was written based on the word of a Jesuit missionary. It described a city filled with gold, silver, and gemstones located in the middle of the Amazon jungle. It was initially dismissed as being unreliable third-hand information, so it didn’t get much attention.”

Ok, this is getting a little more interesting. “Alright, so, why does any of that matter if it was found to be unreliable?”

She hesitated again, then smiled nervously. I couldn’t help thinking how adorable she was like this, in researcher mode. As if to prove my point, she slid her glasses back on, then gathered her hair to one shoulder as she flipped through the journal. My eyes were briefly drawn to the curve of her neck as she searched the pages and began to speak.

“Well, the document was eventually moved to the Vatican’s secret archives… which is the Pope’s private collection. It was no longer accessible to the public. A lot of the information has since been lost or misconstrued over time…until now.”

She slid the journal toward me, taped inside were high quality images of some old documents - pages of them. 

I glanced up at her, “Is this?”

I couldn’t finish my sentence, but she knew what I was asking. Nodding as she continued, “Yes. It is. And the thing is, there were more pages than originally thought…and I have them. All of them. No one knows about the extra pages. You’re the only person I’ve told. As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m going off previously released information.”   

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, “So, why are you telling me this?” 

She seemed unsure of herself as she met my gaze, “I knew you wouldn’t go into this blindly…that you would need proof. You also have skills that I’ll need to rely on…it helps if you know what you’re looking for. You might see something that I don’t…aerial searches aren’t exactly in my area of expertise.” 

Things were beginning to come together now. While I was still nervous about taking this on, I was confident she wasn’t setting a trap. 

My brows pinched together, “Aerial searches?”

She nodded, “Yes. I have a general idea of the location…but it's still a jungle. It’s gonna be camouflaged by hundreds of years of overgrowth. I need your eyes, Frankie…and your navigation skills. So, I’m trusting you with the Vatican documents.” 

A thought struck me suddenly, prompting me to ask, “How did you get those documents anyway?” 

She gave me a cocky grin, “I dropped in from the duct work, Mission Impossible style, and took them while the Pope slept.” 

I snorted out a laugh, “And you’re also full of shit.” 

She grimaced, “So, I may have fibbed. That’s another one of those things you don’t need to know…but that should be the last one...I think.” 

I felt my jaw tighten and my nostrils flare in frustration as I gave her an admonishing look. “You’re already pissing me off and we haven’t even started yet…” 

She gave me a nervous smile, “Sorry. I’m just keeping my word.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, Ok.” I could already tell; she was going to be difficult to deal with. 

I puffed air out of my cheeks, placing my hands on the table and leaning forward to inspect the images. “So what language is this? What does it say?”

Mya moved in closer, the length of her body nearly pressing into me as she leaned down to look at the documents with me. 

“It’s Latin. This one is a papal authorization to evangelize the city…meaning the Pope did in fact send missionaries.”

She paused, leaning in just a little closer to turn the page and allowing her vanilla and jasmine scent to surround me. Her proximity made it hard to focus on the images in front of me as she began to speak again, “This page documents a ten-day trip by foot between Cuzco and Paititi made by the Inca…there’s a note from the Jesuits indicating that detailed clues should be withheld to avoid a gold rush on the city, but somebody messed up. There was a map that made its way into the collection. It was filed separately, so it wasn’t found by the original researcher…but it has been now.”

She pointed to the image she was referencing. It was indeed a map…a very hard to read map. 

“Obviously the landscape has changed since then, but hopefully…between the two of us…we can figure this out.”  

I turned my head to glance over at her, our noses inches apart as we locked eyes. I felt a sudden electricity sparking between us that had my skin buzzing and heart racing. I noticed her eyes briefly dropped to my lips before our attention was drawn to the heavy oak door of her office opening. 

When I shifted to face the door, I was met with a set of dark eyes and furrowed brows staring at us. The man with greasy looking slicked back hair and a scowl didn’t seem too happy to see me. I almost felt like he was sizing me up and ready to attack at any given second. 

Mya’s aura shifted, her jaw clenching as she shot daggers at him with her eyes. I noticed her hand moving to slide some loose papers over top of the journal as she spoke with a forced politeness, “Veracruz, I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?” 

She now seemed uncomfortable. I watched as his scowl shifted to an almost unnerving smile as he replied in a thick Spanish accent, “I just came to check in with you and see how everything is going with the planning.” 

Her nostrils flared as she regarded him, “I see. Well…we’ll catch up just as soon as I’m finished with this meeting. You can wait in the conference room.” 

I stood to my full height and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling the need to take up more space as he glanced my way. He gave me a cocky smirk before giving a small nod and exiting the room. Something told me he was going to be a problem. 

Mya smiled weakly, “Sorry about that. I hate when people interrupt meetings.”

I eyed her, waiting for her to say more on the subject, but she didn’t. Instead, she was back to business, “Well, since you’ve officially agreed…I’ll start gathering all the documents you guys will need and putting plans and contracts into writing. We’ll get back together to go over the finer details once everything is set.” 

I nodded, “Sounds like a plan. Can’t wait.” 

I watched as she picked up the journal and moved toward one of the stone columns that separated the table from the office space. She squatted down, then pushed in on the flat square part of the base, causing a small drawer to pop out. She lifted a lid and slid the journal inside, then pulled her necklace off, manipulating it in some way to turn it into a key. She quickly locked the lid shut before closing the compartment. I never would have guessed that the compartment existed if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. It was completely undetectable.

She eyed me as she stood and returned the chain around her neck, “I’m trusting you. No one else knows about that.” 

I huffed out a small laugh, “Wow…OK. I guess we’re gettin’ into some Indiana Jones type shit.”

She chuckled, “You have no idea…come on. I’ll walk you out.”

As I walked beside her to the main exit of the building, I couldn’t help asking, “Why the goddess Hathor?”

Her eyes cut toward me as she smirked, “I admire her skill set.” 

She didn’t elaborate, but I could take a guess as to what she meant. Once we reached the exit, I turned toward her, reaching out to shake her hand. “I guess we’re doing this. I look forward to working with you, Miss Carnahan.” 

She gave me a polite smile as she took my hand and gave it a firm shake, “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Morales.” 

Her smile shifted to a smirk as she watched me leave. I couldn’t be sure how long her eyes were on me, but I swear I could feel them burning into me until I pulled out of the empty lot. 

My head was reeling as I drove toward the office. I wasn’t sure what I was going to tell the guys. I guess the only thing I had to omit were the documents. I hated keeping something from them, but like Mya, I always kept my word. For some crazy reason, she was trusting me, and I didn’t want to break it. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy though. I could already tell she was going to be a handful. I still needed to be careful with her. It was obvious she had a penchant for deception. I just wasn’t sure in what way. 

I would be lying if I said part of me wasn’t hoping she would open up to me more…become something more. She had this magnetism about her that I couldn’t seem to resist, and I knew it was probably going to get me in trouble. I almost welcomed it, but I was also hoping she didn’t become my new addiction. I had to remind myself to keep this professional - that she was off limits to me too. 

Mya’s POV I stood watching Frankie’s broad frame walking toward his truck through the windows. The more I got to know him, the more intrigued I became. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. He was observant and intuitive. There was something about the way he looked at me, like he could see through all my bullshit. He did basically call me out on it right away. I didn’t know how to handle him going forward. All I knew was that I needed him to trust me, realizing that having him on my side could work in my favor if things went south and that he might even be the key to finding Paititi. 

My thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps, heavy footfalls encased in rubber soles. They came to a stop just behind me as the familiar sandalwood and musk scent invaded my nostrils. 

“I thought I told you to wait in the conference room?” I asked before turning to face Veracruz’s stupidly handsome and smirking face. 

He shrugged, “I wanted to make sure there were no problems.”

I arched a questioning brow. He was beyond transparent, letting his jealousy show at the mere sight of me talking to another man. I really hoped this wouldn’t become a problem. “We’re all good here.”

His eyes briefly shifted to the window before coming back to me, “Who was that? Anyone we need to be concerned about?” 

I shook my head, “No. He’s actually the owner of the personal security firm I’m hiring for the expedition. So…I’m gonna need you to play nice with him. No arguing or questioning his methods. He’s in charge. Got it?”

He gave me a disgruntled look, “You should just let me handle it…”

I looked around, realizing this was not the place to talk to him. “I need you to go to the conference room, like I told you to do. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He sighed, nodding in agreement as he turned to head that way. I watched him go, making sure he did what he was told. He was such a loose cannon. I never knew what to expect from him. 

Minutes later I found Emily in her office to let her know that I would be unavailable for the rest of the afternoon unless a limited few special people happened to show up. I didn’t want to risk anyone else inadvertently seeing Veracruz. She gave me a thumbs up as she reached to answer the phone. I mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ before walking away.

When I entered the conference room, Veracruz was fiddling with a astrolabe displayed on a nearby table, nearly knocking it over when he heard the door open behind him. I gave him a very unamused glare as he righted it. 

“What the hell are you doing here? We had an agreement…”

He placed his right hand on his chest, “I’m sorry, cariño. Collazo wanted me to check in with you and see where we are with preparations.” 

I was fuming. I could feel the heat rushing to my face as anger continued to build, “I don’t care. Collazo nor any of his men are to step foot in this building. I refuse to be implicated in whatever he’s gotten mixed up with.” 

He approached me, much like one would approach a scared animal, hands up in surrender and talking quietly. “I was careful. I came through the back. Not a soul saw me.” 

I huffed out of frustration, “No one saw you? Frankie saw you. Then you waltzed out into the lobby like you own the place just because you can’t help yourself. Anyone could have walked in...” 

His shoulders dropped, “Please forgive me. You are right. I should not have done that. However, Frankie is going to see me eventually anyway, right? So, that does not count.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, now feeling a headache coming on, “You shouldn’t be here at all. We could have set something up.”

He was crowding my space now, placing his hand on my cheek. “I’m sorry. I did not want to wait to see you. I have missed you. Let me make it up to you.” 

I sighed, stepping away from him. Now that Damien was out of the picture, Veracruz wasn’t even trying to hide his feelings for me. I entertained his advances to a point, just so I could maintain my influence over him, but I still didn’t know how far that would get me if his neck was on the line. It was a delicate dance between us that was becoming much more complicated as he was not so subtly begging for more. 

It’s not like it wasn’t tempting. Veracruz looked like sex on two legs and had been very attentive toward me. He went through great lengths to look after me when I was recovering from Collazo’s mini torture session several months ago. I had no question that he would probably be an amazing lover, but I knew he would only suck me further into the life that I was desperately trying to get away from.

“You can’t keep saying things like that to me,” I replied. 

He gave me a soft smile, “Why? Because you like it? I will win you over eventually.” 

I shook my head, “No. I’ve already told you…it’s a bad idea…”

It was his turn to shake his head, “I do not think so. Collazo would welcome it. He would trust you again.” 

I peered up at him with an empathetic gaze, “That may be true, but I’m trying to get away from that lifestyle, Veracruz. I can’t do that if I’m with you.” 

He looked deflated, “I understand, but that does not change how I feel. I cannot help it.” 

I turned away from him, needing to change the subject. “Why does Collazo want you to check in?” 

He began to pace the room, inspecting all the knickknacks on display. “You know how he is…it is more about control. He wants to remind you who is really in charge and make sure you are doing what you need to.”

I nodded, “Of course, I figured. Well…you can report back that we’re on track with the plan. Nothing has changed…and I’ll be ready on the set date.”

He turned toward me, “I had not planned to tell him anything different, no matter your answer. I am trying to keep him off your back as much as possible.” 

I gave him a soft smile, “I do appreciate that. Thank you.” 

An awkward silence stretched between us. I really was beginning to hate being alone with him. Not because I disliked him, but because I felt like I had to manage him and his expectations every second that we were together. It was exhausting. 

I sucked in a sharp breath, “Well, I have things I need to attend to. If that’s all you needed…”

He gave me a tight smile, “Of course. We will be in touch soon.” 

He moved to exit but paused to look back at me when I called his name.

“Please make sure you’re not seen when you leave,” I reminded him. With another curt nod, he was gone. 

I spent the remainder of my afternoon preparing the contract and instructions for Frankie, being careful as to what I put in writing. There were some things that he was just going to have to memorize. It was too risky to have the information floating around. I made a mental checklist of what those things needed to be as I packed up and headed home for the evening. 

As soon as I got home, I changed into my workout clothes, wrapped my knuckles, and made my way to the punching bag in my home gym. I really needed to blow off some steam. The last two days had left me feeling on edge and conflicted about how I was handling everything.

Veracruz randomly showing up at the gallery without warning had taken my anxiety over the top. I didn’t really know how I was going to manage him through this whole thing. I could only assume his advances would continue once we were in the jungle. He was becoming more brazen each time we were together. I needed to keep him close without crossing the line, it had to stay professional. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could walk that line without repercussions. 

Frankie had taken me completely off guard. I had seen pictures of him and watched him from a distance but seeing him up close was an entirely different experience. The second I walked into Delta 5 Security Solutions the previous day; he had my attention. It was almost like I could feel his piercing dark eyes burning into my flesh. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I did well to keep my cool and reel him in, but internally I was a mess as I stood across from him in his office. 

Sure, he was a little disheveled and had the whole tortured soul vibe about him, but there was something sort of beautiful and poetic about him too. He was much bigger than I had realized, his broad shoulders seeming to stretch on forever. The way his arms and chest flexed in the tight grey t-shirt he had been wearing today definitely couldn’t be ignored. Even with his aquiline nose and messy curls, he was handsome in sort of a boyish type of way. That was only emphasized when I drew a laugh from him earlier today, causing his cheek to dimple. And the way he smelled, gods, it was amazing. It was an enticing mixture of leather, summer nights, and man.

He seemed like a decent person with good intentions. If I wasn’t careful, there was a real possibility he could be trouble for me - as in causing me to fuck up and let my guard down. He completely saw through me today. He knew what I was doing before I had even tried it. He was definitely going to be harder to bend to my will. However, some part of my brain was telling me there was a real possibility that he might submit willingly if I did the same for him. I really thought I had met my match in Damien, but Frankie might turn out to be the biggest adventure yet. 

Chapter 3: So it Begins

✨If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to shoot me a DM or leave a comment.

A/N: Hello my lovelies! I hope you enjoyed chapter two. We got some fun stuff with the guys this chapter. They are already giving Frankie hell over Mya. We got to see some of their dynamics and how life is post money-gate. They are definitely looking to Frankie more as a leader these days. Pope is still Popeing and the Millers are just along for the ride.

We finally got Frankie and Mya together. How are we feeling about their dynamics so far? They are definitely both feeling each other out. Frankie is already smitten and Mya is getting there. That doesn't mean they are immediately going to jive though. They will be bumping heads, a lot. Then of course, we have added Veracruz to the mix. He and Frankie have already begun their pissing match.

Now for the nerdy stuff...

Vatican Documents: The Vatican document about Paititi is a real thing! It's discovery in 2001 really happened and it was indeed removed from public access. I've obviously taken some liberties with those 'extra pages' but this is where our adventure begins. I'll continue to share some of these little tidbits with you as we go along.

Egyptian References: So, some of you probably know I'm a huge history nerd. At one point I did want to be an archeologist/Egyptologist. With Egypt being my favorite ancient civilization, I couldn't help squeezing some of that stuff in. There is no funny business here. We are not getting into any reincarnation story lines or anything like that. I just thought it would be fun to draw some parallels between the god of the sky and Frankie and the goddess of Love and Mya because they have similar traits. And well, Ra and Hathor were together. Their story may have some foreshadowing elements, just to make things more interesting. 😏

Please feel free to sound off with your thoughts and predictions. You know I love to hear them! Especially as our adventure starts to pick up.

💜Mysty

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[gengar-pixel-2]

Sharing this conversation I had with my sister after watching "this is why I hate machines" so, before the finale. I forgot to share this in my liveblog, but I stand by my stance, here, along with hers. Think about it.

The moment ultra magnus was put into this state, sentinel decided to take it upon himself to be "acting magnus," without anyone's permission. And then in that time, he made foolish and rash decisions that made everything worse. Not to mention, in "this is why i hate machines," he spread fear-mongering propaganda and set a curfew, and could've blown up cybertron, had omega supreme not transwarped away. A decision the council said wasn't his to make, and theirs. They kept telling him to wait, but he did it anyway. Not only that, but he pushed all energon reserves to fortress maximus, something they didn't want him doing either.

Not to mention, in earlier episodes, he showed an obvious but selfish desire to lead, but if we are to draw another comparison to starscream... How about this?

In season two, episode nine "autoboot camp," sentinel has this to say about ultra magnus:

"You would not believe the glitches the commander saddled me with this time. I'm startin' to think that Ultra Magnus is two circuits shy of a full processor, You know what I mean?"

"Oh, sure, he was the bot back in the day, but now? Ultra magnus is just a rusted-out obsolete model, sorely in need of an upgrade.."

If we are to draw more comparisons, this is VERY similar to how starscream talks about/thinks of megatron. Thinks of him as unworthy to lead, that his time is coming to an end and someone more worthy should take his place. In a sense, it's almost like sentinel was waiting for the opportunity to "usurp" magnus. But instead of trying to kill him and take his place, he waited until something awful happened that left magnus out of commission for the position.

This isn't out of good intent, this isn't out of wanting to protect the people, or because magnus is failing as a leader, sentinel wants to be magnus to "fix" what ultra did. Because in his eyes, he's unworthy of this position and it should be given to him, a younger bot. In his eyes, everything ultra magnus is doing currently is wrong.

Sentinel is very by the book also, a rule follower. Especially when it comes to justice. There have been a few times where ultra magnus has broken those rules that go against what sentinel was taught. All the times when he let optimus "off the hook," despite the fact that he was breaking rules. (for the greater good and the better, we know this, but sentinel doesn't think that way.) This is most likely ANOTHER reason why sentinel feels this way.

While starscream is treacherous and traitorous, and obviously wants to take down a space tyrant to become the next.. space tyrant, i guess, the two share more similarities than either would like to admit. Even things like teaming up with lockdown for the little power-trip.

..That and I'm pretty sure (i'll be finding out soon since i'll be digging into the cancelled season four) that sentinel was gonna officially become magnus, and what he does is like what we saw with the fear-mongering propaganda in "this is why i hate machines," but worse. He would've become tyrannical and harsh. Really showing his true colors.

To quote sunstorm "Are you sure you don't have some decepticon oil in your tubes?" (i know he was talking to prowl, but it still applies. shhh..)