#then again even mc's trauma was glossed over

[mvmnbnv]

Vis entire arc revolved around finding jinx last szn, none of it focues on her trauma one time. This szn it focuses on jinxs healing journey and how ppl see her as a symbol and still doesn't touch on vis trauma throughly or possibly healing journey. One part of me is glad they stuck with what they had for s2 for like nine years while the other part of me is mad about them lying about it being vi centric. Like don't say that if it's not true...vis literally a side character being used to drive other plots forward. Hell Isha is more of an MC than she is, sis got a music video and everything, and probably more screen time. Jinx gets two arcs in two seasons while vi stays stagnant. Never unlearning obviously unhealthy behaviors or finding herself outside of other main characters. Her traumas being brought up over and over only for it to never get addressed or just get glossed over. Like okay turn vi into a side character whatever, she didn't even have much motivation outside of jinx and or Cait last szn either, but don't play in my face about it being her time to shine when that's not happening. And no I'm not waiting till act 3 to make this statement bc 3 eps aren't going to be nearly enough to explore what could have been explored on her part if they actually cared about her.

Edit: Hell she doesn't even get enough time with the man that was HER father. Jinx got silco and Vander involved in her plot and vi could barely get vander...no meaningful interactions between just them...the man who literally named her. The man who she was an heir to...he has more to do with jinxs arc than he could ever have had to do with vis before he dies again. But yeah tell me how this szn is vi centered...

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Hi!! How exactly will phobia of men work with male mc?

Hello!

(there is a rant in the middle of this ask, I am so sorry. Please skip if you'd like, my actual answer is below the rant.)

So this is tricky for me to answer because I am basing the androphobia in my game based off of conversations with people who I know that have it. All whom of which, happen to be women.

The panic/fear/dread that comes with any phobia when your shown the thing you fear, is based off of how I feel when I see the object of my intense phobia.

I do a lot of research on areas I can't pull from personal experience or through conversations with others, and what I have found out is that most men who have androphobia; don't freaking talk about it!

Small personal rant incoming (jump down to next purple line of text to skip):

I'm going to be talking about some fucked things so if you're easily triggered (and your surprisingly reading my sad ass story lol) read at your own risk.

The most I have found is men anonymously asking the internet for help without any context about why they feel the way they do. Which I mean, I'm not judging because opening up about trauma isn't easy. I just think it's immensely sad that most men don't feel like they can talk about these things and bottle it up.

I don't believe in toxic masculinity, I think that there are just toxic people. And very sadly I have grown to see that men opening about their problems often either get shut down or shunned. They get told to be emotionally vulnerable only for it to be used against them, I have personally seen it so often and it makes me so freaking sad. I have a wonderful dad, awesome uncles and the two best little brothers in the world; and all of them have been either betrayed, abused, or sexually assaulted. And they NEVER talk about it. Almost all of it caused by women that also never got punished for it and rather had people defending them while the men practically got told , "get over it" or "you enjoyed it". It makes me so mad people gloss over how much men can suffer just as women do and rather choose to downplay their pain.

Androphobia obviously often comes from trauma caused by men, but even little boys who experience it are reluctant to even bring it up because they get seen as weak. I have seen guys open up about their past and insecurities only to be seen as weak by both other men and women. It's seen as unattractive and again, very weak. Which is so sad when everyone keeps trying to tell men open up, because when they do the same people get turned off or start to see the guy differently.

Ugh. I'm so sorry, I know this is hella off topic but even as a girl myself it hurts me so fucking much to see guys I care about be treated like this then told to keep it to themselves and just be strong.

End of rant (sorry, it's a personal subject for me):

But anywho sorry, I'm not here for PSA's I'm here to write a story. I'm going to keep digging on the internet for men who also have experience with this phobia and if I can't find any accounts for it, I will unfortunately have to treat it just the same as a female experience with the phobia. Which I'm sure there is a difference between how guys experience it but I don't want to force guys to talk if they don't want to about it, as most phobias sadly come from personal trauma. 😢

[viriborne]

Hey I saw you do a character ask thing, and I was wondering if you would do lucifer

I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS EVEN THO I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY!!!!!

Okay, just to start off with, quick warning to Lucifer fans...I am VERY UNFORGIVING when it comes to my opinion and interpretation of him. He's too real of a character to me for me to like him. I appreciate his complexity... but I hate him lol.

If you've ever been in a family with generational trauma, you likely know someone like Lucifer. Someone who, while recognizing the abuse they've endured, still perpetuates it over and over again. Someone who controls his brothers just like how his Father did. And this is why he's mom-codedBEFORE PEOPLE GET ON ME FOR THIS, just listen. While we can't determine what Father's motivation is for keeping angels on short leashes, I feel as if we can infer that it's meant to "keep them in line," by force, if needed. We can see this mirrored in Lucifer's treatment of his brothers. Yes, the brothers are Very unruly but, as we can see with Mc's influence, they react MUCH better to when treated with kindness than humiliation and corporal punishment, something that mirrors real life. While Lucifer isn't as Bad as Father is when doling out punishments, it still yields the same effects of the brothers being terrified of the one in charge, something they reiterate over and over again. And Lucifer acknowledges this! He KNOWS his brothers are terrified of him but feels that it's "for the greater good" as he's scared of being thrown out of their home once again.

Okay, now let's get into Lucifer's treatment of Mc (is about to be nailed to a cross by Luci fans)

Sorry, I gotta mention Lucifer beating Mc until they passed out as "punishment" during the early lessons for the heinous crime of...protecting Beel and Luke. Like uhh wtf was that lol?? How am I supposed to like him after this? Even Belphegor had a better motive literally Killing us than he did for beating Mc unconcious lol. Not to mention the god forsaken pact scene where, despite attempting to be forced into a pact by Solomon multiple times, forces Mc into a pact (and a fade-to-black sex scene) and undermines their consent. Yippee!!! Overall, he's really just written to be the stereotypical Christian Grey archetype when it comes to Mc. I'd say he's like Beast from Beauty and the Beast but at least the beast grew as a person instead of being a man baby who can't express his emotions for the rest of his life. Instead, I feel as if he's the husband from The Taming of the Shrew. Okay that might be a bit harsh, even for him, but it still feels like an accurate comparison in some aspects lol.

Onto fandom interpretations: I've already gone at length as to why "daddy dom" Lucifer is inaccurate and makes me wanna deglove my entire body so I won't go into it. There is an issue where I feel like he's reduced only to a sexual object by many fans and that's Weird and Not Good and often aids in how he's so bastardized in writing and interpretation of his actions. It really feels like his bad parts Really get glossed over or completely excused even by fans who Recognize his flaws and I really feel like that's a damn shame. He's a shitty bastard with tons of baggage and u gotta accept that or else you're liking a completely different character.

Anyways take this meme I quickly made while writing this.

[actualbird]

Hey Zak!

I just read your analysis on marius and emotional distancing and I agree! I think on top of that, he's also the type to bottle it up, if that's the right term for it.

There's one Marius scene that really stuck with me, above all the romantic stuff. (i don't remember which story it's from, i just remember what he did). Marius was talking about something traumatizing, then in the blink of an eye, he was smirking at us, all smug and asking us if we really fell for it.

Once I noticed that, I start noticing it in all Marius angst stories. Every time he talks about something traumatizing, he typically changes the topic in the middle. Which is to be expected when it's something that traumatizes him, but the thing is, the trauma gets mentioned, and we see him being vulnerable. Then, it's like a switch flicks in his head. Like "Oh wait, I'm talking to jiejie", and he immediately clams up and starts teasing us, going back to the flirty brat we met at the start.

I can't think of a single time when he mentions something traumatizing, and we actually get him being completely vulnerable as he tells us about it all, not just part of it before he swaps to flirty and confident mode.

I was kidding when I told some of my friends that "marius is the type to be having an emotional breakdown and saying 'i'm fine, it's fine, why do you think i need help'", but now I think it could actually happen.

irt analysis on marius and emotional distancing

hi roshie-writes!! first off, im v sorry im getting to this ask very late OTL but im happy to hear u agree with that analysis :D

additionally, this ask is rlly interesting cuz yEPPPPPP, I AGREE ON ALL THIS TOO

that whole thing of Drops Vulnerability And Then Shifts To Playful Aloofness is SO VERY common in marius stories, and i personally first clocked it in the Lost Gold event. in like, the very first scene of his LG route, marius tells mc that she must think him naive for wanting to trust bryce and in general just confesses some insecurities hes got. and then the moment mc shows him sincerity, concern, and worry, he immediately shifts and is like "AWWWW UR WORRIED ABOUT ME >:3c" which makes me (and mc) wanna affectionately strangle him.

another more recent instance of this tendency happens in his blossom chapter personal story 4, right when he actually tells the full story of the Basement Incident. and then not like 5 lines after that, he gets flirty, glosses OVER ALL OF THAT WORRYING INFORMATION, and then says "Yeah, that's my good girl" to mc with a smirk on his face.

this personal story 4 instance stands out to me for three reasons:

1) simply cuz the Basement Incident full story lives in my mind rent free and

2) the "Yeah, that's my good girl" is notorious cuz i regularly see screencaps of that line do rounds on twt with ppl simping over it, me included, cuz my god marius KNOWS how to be flirty, like, lemme just drop the screencap cuz Im Not Immune To Marius von Hagen

and 3) the fact that this above screencap regularly makes rounds w ppl going crazy over how hes a flirty bastard (affectionate) really makes me go nuts cuz.....aGAIN. HE DID THIS LIKE 2 SECONDS AFTER CONFESSING HE NEARLY DIED AS A CHILD. LIKE...to an extent, his deflection here worked even outside of the realm of the in-game story itself, it's working on the players too cuz we're busy going MARIUS! VON! HAGEN! over the flirting that, again, attention is taken away from the thing he doesnt want anybody to pay attention to

HE CANT KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS........

i talk a little bit abt this bait-n-switch tendency of his in an old analysis i wrote, marius von hagen, facade vs. sincerity, harsh truths vs. persisting hope, and my thought abt this tendency hasnt changed from the insight i gathered back then, which went:

marius casually has the tendency to “act” a certain way to get things like praise and reassurance, which could arguably interpreted as him using facades (which in this situation i think is actually him just saying theyre facades, theyre actually sincere, but he hides that, says it’s just an act) to acquire the deep seated sincerity he wishes. here, facade is a medium by which to acquire sincerity from others. 

this is partly because of what you say which i agree with. he still wants people to care about him (because thats an innately human desire we All want) but at some point, he realizes hes talking to mc and hes gotta dial it back. and why does he dial it back? because he doesnt want her to worry. she matters to him, and he doesnt want her to be upset over him, so shifting the conversation into something playful can effectively stop worry in its tracks or, at the very least, delay it.

but i also think this is because revealing these gutpunch things like trauma or insecurities is, at the end of the day, a vulnerability

and marius is in a position where he cannot be vulnerable. vulnerability can put him (and maybe even people who matter to him too) in danger.

as much as his deflection, disconnection, and repression is a method for him to deal with his own things himself, these methods are also a way for him to protect against others. he needs to act like these vulnerabilities dont matter to him at all, because then theyre less likely to become weakpoints for an enemy to exploit.

and marius is also in a position where hes got a Lot of enemies. so many people would quite like it if they had something to hold over the head of Pax, mr interim-CEO himself

it's at times like these i really appreciate that marius' nxx codename is King, because it is sosososoososoo fitting for him, specifically due to the chess definition of the term.

the king is simultaneously the most important piece (which garners many enemies and ensures everybody wants to be able to put the king in check or checkmate), AND arguably the weakest piece too (full of vulnerabilities and weakpoints that need to be Constantly guarded against). the king is literally a piece thats meant to be hunted and protected, because thats the entire point of the game, and thats a lot of what marius has to deal with too. marius, to me, feels like hes constantly playing 4D chess in an effort to protect himself and make it look like hes protecting no weakpoints at all, weakpoints Dont Exist, if u saw them, no u didnt, because he needs to appear invincible

all eyes are always on him, for better or for worse. and when everybody is watching, allies and enemies alike, it seems way smarter to just hide and minimize vulnerability completely than to risk getting stabbed in the back for it.

[wulfebound]

Hi hope you had a great day so far I was wondering since no one came to help the Mc will the Mc be able to point that out. Like say something like you left me or you never cared something emotion for the Mc would say.

Normally people gloss over this. And if we don’t get that option that’s ok as well also do we get to know why no one came to help. Do they apologize or make excuses for what happened to the Mc.

Hello! I love questions like this. It gives me better insight into what the players would like to see. :)

That is an absolutely fair question, and the answer is yes, you can definitely choose how to react to seeing everyone again. There is always some degree of pain for the PC, and their trauma cannot be magically wiped away even if they may act that way.

So on a scale of repressing your trauma to lashing out at those who did not save you... yes, you have plenty of options. You can also figure out how everyone reacted when you went missing, and witness for yourself how they react upon your return.

[talesfromcordonia]

I posted 1,283 times in 2022

1,233 posts created (96%)

50 posts reblogged (4%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@talesfromcordonia

@kingliamrys

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I tagged 1,190 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#playchoices - 325 posts

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Longest Tag: 61 characters

#just shows how little they care about the customer experience

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I changed gender on one of my playthroughs after buying this outfit for the MC and I got rewarded with this glitch during the final chapter....

43 notes - Posted November 6, 2022

#4

I've just seen the PB blog for KOD. MC and LI are going to constantly butt heads.

What a refreshing never done before dynamic in a Choices single LI book

And the brand new oh so different feel of this book carries on with the 'OMG why am I so into this random stranger', along with us totally being the newbie (or in this case not being involved in the family business).....

Gee, I wonder why I'm so bored of PB's books. I just can't put my finger on why that might be!

45 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

#3

So just abuse then?

Okay cool, thanks for letting me know me know this is just abuse porn.

54 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

#2

The Princess Swap

PB has issues understanding consent and it’s come up again in The Princess Swap

In this book we have a case of ‘sex by deception’.

In Chapter 11 you can have sex with Devin. The problem? Devin doesn’t know who you are which invalidates Devin’s ability to consent. Of course this is going to be glossed over but can you imagine falling in love with someone, having sex with said person only for them to turn around and go ‘I am somebody else actually, oppsie!’. Finding out that the person you are in a relationship with has lied about pretty much everything about them isn’t something that won’t cause someone massive trauma.

Given the tone of the book, this isn’t going to be addressed. It’s likely Devin isn’t even going to be that bothered by it. There likely isn’t going to be a massive fall-out from what the MC’s are doing because that’s not the style they’re going for with this book. Sure we’re going to get a little drama but nobody’s going to have to face real consequences.

77 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

If there’s a particular book you love on Choices back it up, now

Screenshots, record it, save the music, save the files, save the backgrounds.

Companies admitting online, in public that they’re having ‘staffing issues’ multiple times is not a sign of a healthy company.

And this isn't the first time Choices has used staffing issues for excusing a book delay or cancellation and that's a really bad look.

Is management that bad? 

Is the work environment so bad they're bleeding staff? 

Is PB bleeding money so much they can't afford to keep staff on what looks like a successful book and can only afford to fund the really cheap formulaic books?

From a business perspective, this is an unfortunate thing to admit. It raises serious questions about PB's future.

273 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lahellacute]

It’s still bugging me how Bryce never got the praise and acclaim he deserved after not only finding a procedure to save Kyra’s life and researching it but also leading the surgery as a resident and actually succeeding. I guess he did get one huge surgery after which could be due to that but he missed it because of Keiki...

Also i don’t want anyone telling me Bryce performing that surgery isn’t realistic because a lot of things in OH aren’t anyway lol

[viktoriakosci666]

I dont understand HOW sjm has SO many fans! Like, all those celebrities who have done a bad thing (Amber Heard, Chris Brown) or believe in something that is seen as negative and hurts other people (JK Rowling) are terrorised by the media and its people! But sjm? No, she totally didn't do ANYTHING bad or terrible! 😱

It's not like she copied other authors works and implemented them into her own story! It's not like she created the Illyrians, who are POC (apparently) only to HATE on them and make them out to be misogynistic and abusive to females?! Other authors would be getting called racist by now! It's not like she sexualized Nesta being skinny and even body shamed her in the books! It's not like she acts like her MCs are feminists, only to be brought down for a man who then impregnates them and lies to them about their life being in danger! Oh, HOW feminist of you Rhys! How feminist of you Sarah Janet MyAss! She should be getting called a misogynist, but SOMEHOW she isn't? She also makes out that woman can't be powerful unless they know how to fight! Wow. Thanks Sjm, I've always known I was weak during my fight from poverty, but it's ALWAYS good to get an amateurs opinion.

And then there's the whole Mor thing, with terrible LGBT representation. Her own fans were not sure whether Mor was a lesbian or Bisexual because she just didn't explain it well enough when writing that conversation with Feyre, as Mor states that she's attracted to both genders, and YET her reaction to her sleeping with Helion REALLY doesn't show that she's bisexual, as to me personally it seemed like she was scarred from having sex with a man instead of having sex with HELION himself.

And finally. . . 😤 ignoring the trauma of LITERALLY every character except Feyre and Rhys, despite being VERY aware that her series is popular and MANY young adults and teenagers would read these books and think 'Oh, I guess this behaviour is okay', which, it's isn't! Rhys sexually assaulting Feyre, Cassian gaslighting Nesta, Azriel being willing to screw Elain but then ditch her. . . none of that is okay! But young people don't know that and aren't aware of this, so they believe EVERY single toxic and abusive thing that sjm tells them, and THATS exactly why Feysand and Nessian still exists!

Nesta: suicidal, depressed, sexual assault victim, has been body shamed and over sexualized by her mate, has PTSD, may have a food disorder

Lucien: possibly suicidal, sexual assault victim, abused and used by LITERALLY every single person he has ever met

Tamlin: borderline depressed, PTSD, sexual assault victim, may be suicidal

SJM: Oh, that's so sad 😥! But let me just ignore this *wacks away the coloured letters* and I'll forget about it! 😚 Let's focus more on Rhys, Feyre and Gwyn!!

And I'm not invalidating Rhys, Feyre or ESPECIALLY Gwyns trauma. Gwyn SHOULD get a healing arc. But SJM completely forgot about the other threes trauma, especially Lucien and Tamlins, because she knew that if she spoke again about how poor Tamlin and Lucien are, feysand stans would be on her ass being like 'Lucien left feyre to die! Tamlin locked her up!'. But instead of giving the two characters some closure, she just decided to make them the NC's lap dogs (Nesta and the Valkyries too).

And I'm not saying this because I hate Gwyn (Love her, she deserves better than Assriel and having Eris as her grandpapa, Lucien would be a better choice) but SJM DOES kind of make what happened to Gwyn stand out more than the trauma that Nesta and Emerie went through. . . I was rereading Acosf, and I ALWAYS got a bit teary when it came to Gwyn speaking about her trauma, but with Nesta?

The fact that Thomas nearly raped her was basically GLOSSED over and Emerie having an abusive and misogyny family who clipped her was just summed up in one page (if I remember correctly) whilst mentions of what had happened to Gwyn were scattered all over the book, and since this was NESTAS journey, I was surprised at first when I first read the book (acosf), cause I didn't really care about Gwyn then, and I was just hopping from excitement about Nestas trauma being mentioned more often (since I was scared sjm would never mention her trauma again), or even handled better, but it just. . . was a lot of Feysand and Gwyn propaganda, and Nesta slander. Yeah 😭

Sjm EVEN focuses more on LoA and Helion than Lucien, Tamlin and Nesta, who ARE essentially some of the main characters 😭

Anyway, SJM ignoring all this trauma that the characters have or even acting like it isn't important, is going to teach those people that trauma should be ignored and forgotten, that if you're suicidal, NO ONE cares! If you're being body shamed, NO ONE cares! If you're being harassed or sexually assaulted, NO ONE cares! If someone is being racist to you, NO ONE cares!

And I think that THIS is why SJM should just stop WRITING BOOKS! Because people DO care about your trauma, and SJM is going to make you think otherwise. The author may not say it directly, but her work is proven to be misogynistic, racist, sexist, and as they say, 'the words and actions within a book says more about the author than the actual book'.

[messiahzzz]

i don’t know if it’s just me, but i personally always had an issue with NH and a good majority of the fandom assigning “commitment issues” as one of asra’s core traits. cause that’s not how i see them at all.

the most common examples i’ve seen are: 1) “but he had no intention of committing to julian” yes, exactly. their relationship was not born out of a potential promise for commitment, despite julian wishing for it. asra made it very clear from the start that he can’t give julian what he wants and that he sees their relationship as something casual. not because they were afraid of committing to a relationship, but simply because julian was never the one they wanted. he only had eyes for the MC from the start and he made this fact very clear.

the second one would be “but he abandoned MC when the plague hit and didn’t care to help the victims either” he wanted MC to come with him, hence the argument. however, he can hardly force them to, especially being a person who respects wishes and boundaries. asra may be selfless in many aspects, but they have a sense of self-preservation still.

so let me ask you this: what rational person wouldn’t want to flee from a storm of incoming death if they had the option to do so?

growing up as an orphan on the docks, asra most definitely saw vesuvia from its worst side. something the MC luckily never had to experience. i feel like the fandom has a tendency to gloss over the trauma that they have endured for many years or write it off as something that’s “in the past”. he and muriel were on their own for a good majority of their childhood, left to their own devices. asra even mentions in another route that they’re genuinely surprised that people apart from muriel and the MC would worry about what happens to them. that they weren’t aware anyone else cared.

being homeless from a very young age on and having experienced all of this trauma, why would he feel like he’d owe anything to this city? deciding to leave doesn’t make them a bad person.

his reason for repeatedly going on journeys after the MC has been resurrected isn’t because he is trying to escape the responsibility either. he is merely searching for his own answers and tries to cope with his overwhelming feelings for them. that being said: does asra have a tendency to run away from his problems? definitely, but that doesn’t necessarily equal fearing commitment.

you know what takes a lot of commitment though? dedicating your time to research and looking for any way to bring a loved one back, no matter how dangerous it may be. giving up part of your heart without knowing the repercussions. devoting several years to nursing them back to health. teaching them how to be a person again, step by step. re-teaching them magic. repeatedly trying to restore their memory, failing and trying all over again. remaining by their side throughout all of this, no matter how painful it may be, cause you know they deserve another chance at life.

asra is one of the most selfless and loyal characters in the entire game.

[marshmallowprotection]

I've read some hcs for seven on tiktok and ofc they were adorable. but this one stuck with me and it was like seven would probably blame all his troubles on mc and say that it's their fault he got into the mess and stuff (like he did in his route) even after they get back to living normally

and there was another one which said that seven is the kind to not go to therapy because he thinks he doesn't need it (we all know he needs it lmao )

I don't think I'd want to agree with these because whatever happened in his route was just because he wanted to protect mc and not bring her into his mess and as far for therapy, I think he'd try his best to go, so that he can work on bettering his relationship with mc and saeran, and himself.

I wanna hear your thoughts on this!

Frankly, it's insulting to Saeyoung Choi's character to say that he would lash out or emotionally harm his MC. I have a huge problem with people who whine and complain about the events during the apartment already. There are people who claim he was being cruel and vicious but did we even play the same game? Saeyoung was in the middle of having the biggest emotional breakdown and crisis of his life.

He was trying to push you away but he failed at every step. He's a good liar when it comes to anything but you. He kept trying to let himself speak to you and enjoy your company, but he pushed you away quickly because he is living with this fear that the agency will kill you, or somebody he trusted will hurt you. Look at what literally happened to Saeran in front of Saeyoung.

Would you be in the right state of mind after your brother tried to kill you and claimed he hated your guts? How would you feel after you'd given up your life for your brother's happiness, only to realize that the promise was broken and your brother was hurt, all the while you sold your soul for NO REASON because the promise was broken, and you cannot have anything good because the agency will kill you before it even becomes a thought?

He was mean but my God, he wasn't as mean as people claim he is in that incident. It's like people gloss over the fucking crisis that he is in the middle of. Yes, he was being a dick and that's not okay, but it's so exhausting to see people whine over not being given affection from him when he's having a goddamn breakdown. That's always been the toughest thing for me to digest in Saeyoung content.

Saeyoung and Saeran Choi, both, need therapy. Hell, everyone in the RFA needs some support and proper health care. But, the twins are both in need and it's literally something that I've been writing in the SE Saeran x Reader story, both twins getting therapy and help with what plagues them. It's as easy as saying, they've got false papers for their identities and Jumin can cover for them through his company to get what they need emotionally.

Saeyoung will never blame you. Never. There may be moments when he closes himself off again and gets frustrated, but he's not going to blow up at you. He struggles with self-isolating and self-loathing, but that's something that he is going to work on. He's not going to left his new life suffer, he wants to be Saeyoung Choi, a healthy man who is doing his best for you.

That means going to therapy to address his trauma.

That means trying to help himself get into a swing of a normal life. That means making changes, things that are both good and tough because living a free life means knowing that it's okay to be afraid of change, but it's also okay to make choices you know will make you happier in the long run, even if they're hard to choose.

He's going to have bad days and make mistakes, but he's never going to look you in the eyes and say something disgusting deplorable.

TLDR; god, stop saying that Saeyoung will lash out against his MC and refuse to help himself because if you think that's the case, did you even play his route?

[danteinthedevildom]

yes! i hate it when people say belphie doesnt care for mc, this is a personal opinion but i feel like even if we werent related to lilith (and somehow we came to life again) he would be close to us, and try. seeing how the people he cares about the most react to someone he thought was just a human dying would probably push him to get to know MC. i know some people also think and argue that beel sees MC as a replacement for lilith too; but i know 100% he doesnt, he hasnt been able to verbally talk about his sisters passing to anyone, i mean almost right after she died belphie was taken away and beel assumed he was in the human world on "buisness", so for beel to openly talk about lilith with us as much as he does it feels special. i know he sees mc as their own person because of how much hes able to share with us, beel talking with mc about his feelings means hes able to finally move on, not to say that he'll forget about her, but he knows hes ready to finally stop beating himself up for it yk? i feel like people were also conflicted about seeing belphie as someone who cares for mc, especially the 180 he does when he finds out we're liliths relative; but belphie has had so much trauma, seeing the person he loved the most die, being separated from his brothers for years and years, etc. he was locked away with his mental illness for a long time, the anger bottled up and he took it out on mc, of course it explains it but it doesnt excuse it, you can still continue to hate belphie idc but i feel like he loves mc more than the other brothers do because of it, its the same thing with beel, mc allowed both of them to cope and talk to them about their sisters passing, yk?

Honestly the whole of Chapter 16 and associated fallout is p. controversial simply bc of it being us that it happens to; the game's written for us to imprint on the MC, and because of that, some scenes - like Belphie's betrayal and his glee at having killed MC - becomes very, very personal. It's very easy after that to become biased against a character, because there's genuine emotional scarring that we're left with as players that the game then just... fails to acknowledge to its fullest. (Which is why we get so many "MC might have forgiven Belphie but I haven't" fics on AO3.)

But to say that Belphie doesn't care for MC is just. Wrong. And I can def. get your annoyance on that!

He didn't care for MC to begin with, yes; MC was a random human he knew nothing about, a ticket to freedom and the first step into enacting revenge for something he's carried with him for millenia. They didn't matter to him outside of that because he never got to see them - or spend actual time with them - outside of the short visits they could afford to update him on their pact progress. That's undeniable.

But to say that he still doesn't ignores the entire point of the Lilith revelation. Being related to her gives Belphie something to connect with MC over. It gives him a reason to overcome his hatred of humanity and to bond with MC in general - which is selfish, yes, and kind of shitty, true, but so much of Belphie's (admittedly misplaced) anger comes from being a survivor of an incredibly one-sided war and (arguably, in his mind) the reason Lilith died to begin with. Because Beel saved him instead of her.

It's not like any of them were ever given a good way to cope with the trauma of the Fall, or Lilith's death. It's not like any of them even knew her actual fate until Chapter 16. Belphie's way of coping was to become apathetic, and to try and place the blame onto something he could take action against.

To him, that meant humanity. Because she fell in love with a human. Because they'd already fought God and lost, so he wasn't going to get closure there - but maybe ending the cause for her death would help the hurt.

He hated humans because of Lilith. In the realm of good story-telling, the best way to end that hatred is likewise through Lilith. Stories are best when they have that cyclical nature to them - especially since it can then transition into Belphie overcoming his trauma (and Lilith's death) through humanity.

So, yeah; it's a selfish reason to get close to someone, to take back the really horrific thing you were going to do, but all of Belphie's anger stemmed from the Fall and what he perceived as her death. Finding out that she didn't actually die? That she became human - became the very thing he wanted to destroy - and lived out a long life? That she had children, and that her family line is still alive in MC? Of course that's going to stop him dead in his tracks. And of course he's going to want to get close to MC, the last remaining fragment of the sister he's dedicated his entire life post-Fall mourning.

Belphie's an incredibly apathetic character by nature. He doesn't care about a lot of things, and everything he cares about is overshadowed by how much he loves Lilith. He needs that connection to get him out of his natural apathy. He cares about Lilith above all else; he'll care about MC at the drop of a dime if they're anything to do with her.

But that's not a bad thing. It means there's an opportunity for him to genuinely get to know who MC is, in a positive light.

It's an opportunity for him to try and make a connection with MC that simply wouldn't have existed otherwise, and through them, to finally, finally put his memory of Lilith to rest. And he does! He gets to know MC, gets to know why Beel adores them so much - outside of just being "Lilith's descendant" - and ends up loving them for who they are.

He puts his hatred of humanity and his single-minded attachment to Lilith behind him, and he still cares for MC. He wouldn't do this if he'd really not formed some sort of bond with them before that point. If he only cared for them because they're a fragment of Lilith, then they'd mean nothing to him once Lilith wasn't such a fervent part of his daily life.

I think the game's just... really bad at showing that, however. You put it really well when you called it a 180, because in all honesty? The game glosses over it much too quickly, and doesn't do a totally good job explaining the logic behind why he'd change his mind so fast.

There's not enough time spent on allowing MC - and the player - to overcome the emotional wreckage of Chapter 16 + fallout. We're not given the chance to process it before Belphie has, to build up a natural relationship with him that transitions slowly from him seeing MC as a Lilith-connection to him seeing them as their own, defined person. It's way too easy to still be emotionally hung up on it while he seems perfectly fine and dandy.

On your bit abt him overcoming it even without the connection to Lilith - I agree tbh! There is a lot Belphie would do for Beel, and I genuinely think seeing how against him Beel is after killing MC, even if they're brought back to life, would ruin him. Belphie being locked up, trying to convince Beel that he was doing the right thing, only for Beel to disagree with him and show genuine anger/disgust, would knock the world from under his feet. If he thought trying to hurt MC would make him lose Beel too - if Beel pleaded with him to just play nice, because he can't choose between them both, not again - he'd likely (albeit begrudgingly) postpone his intended revenge plot.

And he'd try to stay bitter, and for a long time he likely would - but then he'd see how happy Beel is with MC around, and how much it means to Beel that they seem to get along, and how much Beel opens up to them about Lilith, and he'd start to... reconsider. Just a little. Just a bit. Moment by moment, day by day, until he realises that MC isn't a replacement for Lilith, but that they bring something to the table that the brothers have been missing for a long, long time.

Which would afford Belphie the moment of catharsis; where he finally, on a quiet night, opens up about the Fall. How he felt, how angry he is, how helpless. How much he misses her, how the pain and hurt consumes his every thought. And then the player would get the chance to overcome the emotional strain with Belphie, showing him that his anger shouldn't be aimed at humanity when his Father is the one at fault, and Belphie, very quietly, admitting that they're right.

It could work, and work well. It's just a point of finding - and hitting - the right story beats.

On the topic of Beel - honestly, the concept that he sees MC as a replacement for Lilith is just... I personally couldn't imagine it. I can see how someone else could - being her descendant, the attic sandwich club, their little escapade together once Belphie's back in with the family - but that includes seriously misreading/ignoring a lot of Beel's character arc/development.

Beel talks to MC about Lilith and Belphie way before he knows anything about their relation to her. He sees a lot of her in them, yes - he mentions this a few times, I think, in relation to little things they do - but he also sees a lot of what he wants to be in them - which is best seen in their ability to defend both himself and Luke, which be very subtly compares to his own inability to save both Lilith and Belphie.

To Beel, MC stands as something a little idealised. MC is everything good he saw in Lilith (as well as some of the things he loves most about Belphie), and everything he wishes he could have been. MC is a reason to be better, stronger, more capable - both so he can protect them the way they protect others, and so he can feel as if he's on their level.

But that doesn't mean he sees them as a replacement to the people he's lost. It's arguable that he's projecting, sure, I'll admit that; he sees things he misses most of the people he's lost in MC, and I'm sure forming a bond with them helped him cope while he was without Belphie. But MC is still always MC to him. They're always still their own person, and someone he cares for because of that fact.

Beel cares too much about his family to replace them with someone else. Lilith meant too much to him as a person for him to look at MC and actually see Lilith. He misses her, not the idea of her. He feels guilt that he couldn't save her. His trauma revolves almost entirely around the failure of (self imposed) duty and the subsequent loss of life. His Survivor's Guilt is the main reason Beel can't put her memory to rest - because he's constantly haunted by the thought that he could have saved her.

His trauma, the way it is, does not create a setting where he would believably see MC as a replacement for Lilith. He's all too aware that she's gone. He's all too aware that he lost something he can never get back that day. Her memory is special to him, and being unable to talk about her hurts him because that's a bit like killing her off for good.

MC can't replace Lilith, even being Lilith's descendant, and I genuinely can't believe that Beel would even want them to. He's so defensive over Belphie and Lilith, even just over the memory of them; to suggest that MC could replace one of them I feel would anger him more than anything. Not only because it's an insult to Lilith, but because it's an insult to the person MC is. To the person Beel admires.

With just how much he cares about Lilith, I think Beel's enhanced attachment to MC is more the steadfast defence of her lineage to make up for what he couldn't do for her. He still sees MC as their own person, it's just that now... now he has a chance to make up for what he failed at before. And bit by bit, he can learn to forgive himself. Can learn to stop blaming himself for something that was never his fault to begin with.

Belphie and Beel have a special relationship with MC because MC is a direct link to Lilith that helps them overcome their individual Lilith-related traumas. They're naturally going to be closer to MC due to this, yeah, but that's... not the only reason they're close to MC. To try and push down everything they feel and do with MC to "it's only because MC is Lilith's descendant" is to. Well. A) make an incredibly unsatisfying story and character development, but also B) completely ignore that MC helps them bury the memory Lilith. MC helps them move on. Their care and love for MC is what helps them finally let go - to stop living in the past, in hurt, and to finally take a step forward to a future without the weight of Lilith's death constantly burdening them.

Like. If Solmare had just spend a little more time on these two, that might be clearer. Because it's definitely there! And it's why I love Belphie and Beel so, so much. But it's also fully understandable why some players still really dislike Belphie, or why they're not convinced that Belphie/Beel see MC as anything outside of Lilith, bc the game does kind of fail on that a little by rushing a bit too much. Just. Aagh!! You know?

I could honestly go on abt them for hours. So I should prolly stop here before I go on too long adfgh.

[getosubaru]

Just founded your series on Obey Me's therapy and omg where has it been all my life?? Incredibly interesting take on the aftermath of lesson 16 and how yeah, basically therapy is definitely needed. Can't wait for part 6!

EEK! thank you so much!! i have about half of the next one done and i'm hoping to get it done and posted by tomorrow or sunday! i'll tag you when it's up 🥺

yah, lesson 16 really bothered me. everyone (but especially MC, mammon, belphie/beel, and lucifer) definitely needed therapy afterwards. i don't like how canon just glossed over the traumatic effects of everything that's happened to MC. i mean, just lucifer's behavior would be enough to warrant calling a therapist.

i wanted to keep this gen, i really did–especially since i know there's a lack of platonic fics. but lucifer is my ultimate "i can fix him with the power of therapy and communication". his relationship with MC needs the most work (aside from belphie obvs). and i think with a bit of help, he could really be a good partner. of course, i'm biased since he's my favorite.

i'm really glad that people are liking this. i've put a lot of myself in MC, mostly in terms of how i handle trauma and conversations i've had with my own therapist. i couldn't imagine even tolerating living in the same house with belphie after lesson 16, much less being friends. MC has their moments where they're allowed to be mad but typically they just go with the flow. that's not...realistic to me? i'd be pissed.

sorry this went on a ramble, but thank you again!!

[satsuma-saturn]

High speed crashed into this inbox: I very desperately need someone, anyone, in the fandom to write SOMETHING where Mammon has to deal with a MC who doesn’t just gloss over the fact that Belphie murdered them. As an abuse victim who has previous trauma directly related to being strangled nearly to death previously, I had to actually set the game down and have a panic to myself for a while before finishing the chapter. And it’s never brought up again. Mammon and Beel have pretty high EQ

Okie, so I’ll admit, I’m a Belphie stan. I adore him. HOWEVER, I do not appreciate how the game glossed over what he did w/o any repercussions. I think about it a lot and it pisses me off. Like, it happened and then it’s never brought up again, not allowing closure for any players, especially those who were triggered by the chapter. He doesn’t even apologize for what he did. Like, that’s the least the devs could’ve done. Anyway, I hope this is okay, and I’m sorry it isn’t super long

WC: 1445

warning(s): spoilers for ch. 16, mentions of murder, strangulation, trauma, anxiety, and panic attacks

The Avatar of Comfort - Mammon x Reader

fic below the cut!

For the fourth night in a row, you find yourself staring at your ceiling, wishing you were anywhere else. You trusted him and he betrayed you. All you wanted to do was help him, but he had other plans. Even if it was you from another timeline, watching yourself die was traumatizing. It doesn’t help that you can still feel his hands around your throat, his face twisted into a grin of sick pleasure. His brothers have already forgiven him, acting as if the incident never happened, but you can’t bring yourself to forgive him. Not without closure. Hell, even with closure, you’re not sure you can forgive him. After all, you’ve seen how willing he is to kill you. Who’s to say he won’t try again, even if he’s suddenly nice to you, pretending you’ve been best friends the whole time.

Hot tears burn your eyes as they roll out the corners, blurring your vision. You lay there for a while, allowing the tears to soak your hair. Sitting up, you wipe your eyes, smearing salty tears across your face, leaving your cheeks damp. You’re aware of another presence in your room, one that wasn’t there before. Glancing around, you see him, standing silently in the doorway. How long has he been there? Your cheeks flare up in embarrassment, not wanting him to catch you in a moment of weakness, yet thick tears continue streaming down your face. Why is he here? Stupid question. He often appears in your room in the middle of the night, climbing into your bed and cuddling you, moreso now that he’s held your dead body in his arms. If you were to bring it up, especially in front of his brothers, he’d deny it with every bone in his body, maintaining the façade that he doesn’t even like you.

“Why are ya cryin’, human?” His voice is one of concern, having never seen you cry before. You remain silent, not wanting to answer. When he speaks again, his voice and words are softer. “Hey, MC, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He strides over to your bed, taking a seat, the mattress springs creaking as he does. Instead of answering his repeated question, you throw your arms around him, burying your face into his back, choking back a sob. His jacket smells like him, like teak wood and leather. “H-hey, I didn’t say you could do that!” He pulls away, leaving you feeling rejected, but he turns around and grabs you, pulling you close. “If yer gonna hug me, do it properly, human,” he mumbles into your hair, his breath warming your scalp.

“I-I can’t…” Your sentence is interrupted by a sob. “I can’t get that image out of my head. Belphegor’s hands around my throat, squeezing. A-and it seems like no one cares!” As you speak, your voice gets louder, but is muffled by Mammon’s chest. “No one’s even acknowledged it, meanwhile, I’m over here having nightmares and panic attacks!” You shut your eyes before continuing. “I feel so alone right now.”

His fingers glide through your hair, which is greasy due to being unwashed. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, not mentioning anything about it. “Yer not alone,’ he says, his voice quiet. “I’m here for ya, ya stupid human. Maybe we should’ve done somethin’ more to punish Belphie, but at the time, we were just glad to have our brother back.” Sighing, he pulls you away from his chest, his azure eyes locking onto yours, as if he were peering into your soul. You have never seen him look so serious before, though it’s a relief, seeing that he’s listening to you venting.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you begin, but you’re cut off by Mammon shushing you. You’re about to get irritated at him for interrupting you, but he starts speaking.

“So ya need a distraction. Somethin’ to take yer mind off the pain,” he says, pulling you to your feet by your arms. Is that what you need? A distraction? You aren’t sure, but you don’t want him to bring out the puppy eyes -- one of your biggest weaknesses -- so you allow him to pull you along.. “C’mon, we can go shopping, on your dime, of course.” Shopping? A small groan leaves you. Why can’t he just lay down with you and let you cry into his chest? That’s much more preferable. As he notices your groan, Mammon stops, his expression unreadable in the dark. “Would ya rather do somethin’ else? Speak now or forever hold yer peace.”

“I want to cuddle. Come lay down,” your voice sounds foreign in your ears, hoarse and shaky. Seemingly, he hears your tone and complies, leading you back to your bed. He sits down, sinking into the mattress, patting the space next to him for you to sit down. You follow his gesture, taking a seat next to him. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you down, holding you close. Normally, he prefers to be the one cuddled, but you need it more than he does, so he’ll be the big spoon. His face nestles into the back of your neck, leaving behind light kisses that feel like butterflies.

Momentarily, your conversation with the Avatar of Greed had distracted you, but now that you’re laying in silence, your mind wanders. Images of the incident flash through your mind and you squeeze them shut, silently begging the images to go away. Yet, they remain. Stinging, hot tears prick at your eyes and you bring your hands up to wipe them away, but Mammon stops you, using his thumbs to softly wipe away the tears leaking down your face. Your head pounds as you lay there, still unable to erase the images from your subconscious.

“Hey, it’s okay. I got ya,” Mammon reassures, his breath warm on the back of your neck. You feel comforted by his presence, even if your mind is somewhere else. Eventually, you drift off into an uneasy sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, Mammon is nowhere to be seen. The sheets are wrinkled where he’d been laying, but they’re cold. He’s been gone awhile. Climbing out of bed, you make your way downstairs, seeking breakfast from the dining room. Upon your arrival, you notice Mammon isn’t at the table. Neither is Lucifer or Belpehgor. Belphegor’s absence doesn’t surprise you, but the two eldest brothers’ do. Approaching the table, you take a seat and look over at Satan, who’s reading next to you. Technically, reading at the table during meals is against the rules, but Lucifer isn’t around to reprimand Satan. Resting your cheek on your palm, you ask him, “Where’s Lucifer and Mammon?”

Without putting his book away to speak to you, he responds, “I believe they’re in Lucifer’s office, having a ‘talk.’ I don’t know what it’s about, but I know Mammon is pissed off.” He turns a page in his book before speaking again. “Is that all?”

Nodding, you stand up. “Yes, thank you. I’m going to go find Mammon.” Before Satan has a chance to tell you that it’s probably a bad idea, you’re gone.

Upon arriving at Lucifer’s office, you stand outside the closed door, attempting to listen in on the conversation uttered in angry whispers and occasional voice raises. You can’t hear everything that’s going on, but you get the general gist of the conversation: Belphegor fucked up and you’re suffering the consequences. However, the conversation soon ends and the door swings open before you have a chance to take off. Crimson eyes greet you as you shrink away, wishing you had stayed in the dining room.

“Inside. Now,” Lucifer commands, his voice low as he moves out of the doorway, allowing you to step inside. His voice isn’t angry, yet you still feel intimidated. As you enter the room, Mammon is leaving. He doesn’t look at you, but as he passes you, his fingers brush against yours. Later, he’d claim it was an accident, but you know it isn’t. You’re pulled from your daydream as Lucifer stands in front of you, gesturing for you to take a seat. You comply, watching him with anxious eyes. With a sigh, he takes a seat at his desk, staring at you silently. Your eyes take a sudden interest in the wood grain of the desk, tracing it with your finger. “MC, we need to talk. About the incident that occurred the other day. About...Belphegor.” Curiously, you look up at him. He doesn’t smile, yet the look on his face is reassuring. Sighing, you prepare yourself for a conversation that will last at least three hours.

[zigtheeortega]

to hell and back

✿ pairing: logan x mc

✿ word count: 4174

✿ warnings: mentions of violence from book one & angst

✿ tags: @diamondsless ; @agentsewell ; @violinet ; @messofakind ; @hudush ; @roguemal ; @troublemakerinspace ; @choicesarehard ; @litgpop ; @auroraemery 

✿ author’s note: i’m incredibly nervous to post this, as this is my first ever logan fic so please be gentle! i got the idea for this fic after watching portrait of a lady on fire, after being reminded of the myth of orpheus and eurydice, which if you haven’t ever heard of it, read up here! the idea of a forbidden love always breaks me but i’m a sucker for punishment, so i thought i’d apply that myth to future logan x mc (my mc’s name is raquel). i hit a follower milestone, too, so i thought i’d celebrate by pushing myself out of my comfort zone! woo![disclaimer: i’d never want to accidentally upset anyone by writing him ooc, so if you have any pointers, please dm me] 

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

He was the last person she’d expected to hear from. It’d been years. Her life was finally getting back on track, and she was moving on.

She white-knuckled the steering wheel, her hands slick with sweat, and peeled out of the parking lot of her dorm, leaving her world to enter his again.

Some days, her time with the Mercy Park Crew felt like a distant dream, a day dream she’d conjured while bored at school. Other times, she’d reminisce on his specific features to make sure she’d never forget what he sounded like, how he looked, how he felt.

Some days, she’d zero in on his eyes, the way the brown tones were multidimensional, layered, and how dark and full his lashes were, shading his dilated pupils when he’d stare at her lips before leaning in for a kiss.

Other days, she’d focus specifically on his hair; the strong coconut smell of his deep conditioning mask, which he unabashedly used, a secret she swore to keep, and the silky feeling of his thick waves beneath the pads of her fingers.

She’d spent years mulling over her time with the Mercy Park Crew, spilling tears every time she came across her prom photo with Logan, so often that she had to lock it up in a journal she’d filled long before. She was used to the feeling of a choked sob, the tension in her lungs and the soreness that came after a good cry: a comfort so familiar to her that it was one of the only things that reminded her she was alive – that she was human.

She’d spent so much time grappling with her morality, the guilt of her involvement weighing heavily on her for her entire freshman year. The depression that came with it was unrelenting, the loneliness of moving across state lines settling in almost immediately. The nightmares were worse.

They came as quickly as they went – in short blips, interwoven with her worst memories. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up in cold sweats, vivid details of bullets ripping through flesh, the metallic smell of blood burned into her memory.

She often woke up trembling, panting, always quick to muffle her cries with her pillow as to not wake her roommate.

She spent the majority of her first year in isolation, a self-inflicted punishment for the people she’d harmed in such a short span of time. Thankfully, her roommate was rarely there.

She was homesick, but not for Los Angeles. 

No matter how much she wanted to go back, she wouldn’t allow herself to go. Not for holiday breaks or summer.

For the first year, her chest felt like a gaping wound, and she struggled with aimlessness, the thoughts of her purposelessness a constant mental burden. She toed the ledge, always close to jumping but never committed.

It took intense therapy to get her to a safe distance.

She slammed on the brakes, the red hue of the brake light in front of her the only thing warning her to stop. The burst of adrenaline she got from almost rear-ending another car was the most she’d felt in a long time.

She had chased the high relentlessly, either isolating herself completely during depressive episodes or throwing herself into high risk situations to feel something – anything.

Driving had become a utility to her, transportation and nothing more.

She associated the exhilarating sensation of pressing the gas pedal until her foot was nearly pointed, the smell of burning rubber, her tangled, windswept hair caught in her lip gloss – with Logan. It was wrong to try to recreate it without him.

When she’d left for Langston, she’d never looked back. Partially because she felt like she had nearly nothing anchoring her to L.A., but also because her last semester had a sense of finality to it. The crew vanished without a trace, and her inhibitions returned.

It took her five days of driving and stopping to make it to the campus. Her once intimidating, tightly packed car barely filled her half of the shared dorm room. And once she was on campus, she rarely drove anywhere, unless absolutely necessary.

She clung to the hope that she’d be able to find a crew of her own in undergrad, and that she’d hear his voice again. Envisioning Logan’s lips enunciating her nickname gave her a rush close to adrenaline, but not quite.

The soft pattering of rain on her windshield drew her out of her reminiscent thoughts. She blinked, glancing around the pitch black road, searching for a road marker. She flicked her high beams on, bouncing off of a distance marker. “Greenwood – 13 miles”.

He’d called at nearly midnight, his voice trembling, quiet, the bass of his voice keeping him from a true whisper. “Raquel, I need you.”

His tone was pure fear, the four words dripping with the subtext of a flubbed deal, a job gone wrong.

She kept the same phone number, clinging to the belief that maybe, just maybe, she’d hear her name roll off his tongue one more time. 

It took three years for her to hear his voice again. And he was terrified.

She’d spent three long years dealing with the aftermath of the spring of her senior year of high school. A couple months of living in a new world had left a lifetime of damage, and she’d come out of it changed. The damage had festered, so much so that she had to seek help.

She’d promised herself that if she ever saw him again, she’d stand her ground, and try to pull him out of the deep end. She was strong willed, and well intentioned, that much she was sure. She learned so much about herself during that last semester, and she was grateful for it.

And all of that was abandoned the second he spoke her name.

She turned off the highway, and after a long stretch of backroads framed with gravel driveways, the bar came into focus. The open sign flickered, overshadowed by the numerous draft beer logos shining brightly around it.

The parking lot was nearly empty, a couple of reverse-parked pickup trucks scattered across the gravel. The muffled music met her ears, barely audible over the electric bug zapper near the entrance.

She still couldn’t get used to the muggy, swampy weather of the east coast, much less the mosquitoes and the irritating itchiness of a fresh bite.

The chill of the air conditioning hit her before her nerves did. With nothing but a few bills, her driver’s license, phone, and determination, she’d set out to save him. She hadn’t even prepared.

What was she supposed to say to the one person who burrowed his way into her subconscious and never left? The one that she was forced to live without, even though she craved daily him like the sweet bitterness of nicotine, the fleeting high enough to keep her coming back, no matter if it’d eventually kill her.

In the back booth of the dingy bar, she saw him.

She noticed the stubble first, so foreign from the smooth tanned skin she remembered running her fingers across. The dark circles under his eyes aged him, the years of trauma finally catching up to him. It’s like his light was dimmed; she thought he was broken before, but whatever healing journey she’d had, he’d endured the opposite over the years.

His cheeks looked hollow, like he hadn’t eaten in days. From the look of his greasy hair and dirt stained white tee, he’d been on the run nonstop.

“Logan?” She called out, just loud enough for him to hear.

He met her eyes, and for a brief second, they were empty, devoid of emotion, just long enough for her to notice, before they filled with tears. He jumped up from the tattered booth seat: grabbing her in a crushing hug, burying his face in her neck.

He murmured her name into her neck over and over, like he couldn’t believe she was real. She wrapped her arms around him, his familiar warmth bringing her to tears. 

And they stayed like that, enveloped in each other, not a single thing around them mattering, except the feeling of being in each others’ arms after years apart.

When she pulled back to look at him, he stared at her lips, and ran his thumb across her chin. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she breathed, her arms snaking around to his front, and she grazed the tight muscles of his torso.

A drunken man shoved past them towards the restrooms, taking her out of the moment.

“Should we sit?”

He nodded, sliding onto his side of the table. “Do you… want a drink, or?” He asked, a bit nervously.

“No, I’m driving.” She fiddled with the braided keychain attached to her car keys, pulling at the frayed edges.

“That’s the responsible Raquel I missed,” he chuckled, breaking the tension a bit. He took a deep gulp from the beer bottle in front of him.

“I missed you so much,” she sighed, watching his face intently, committing every new detail to memory, tucking it away for later.

“I missed you, too.”

It was a hard conversation to initiate, much less navigate. She was still deciding if he was real – she’d dreamt of the moment she’d see him again, and it wasn’t anything close to what was happening.

She’d daydreamed of him pulling up to her dorm, parked out front like he did when they first met, as cliche as it sounded. Donned with the same white tee and jeans, he was leaning against the car (in her dream she pictured a convertible, so she could watch how beautifully the wind’s rough caress styled his hair, able to tousle it in a way a pair of hands never could), a smirk on his face, his arms folded, but his body language was never uninviting. He was relaxed, untroubled, as she kissed him, and they drove off into the sunset. A cliche, but at least they were both happy.

“So…” she started.

“I know you have a lot of questions, but I don’t know if I can answer all of them right now,” he finished, apologetic.

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say that… subter-fudge doesn’t always work to get you out of sticky situations.”

“You mean subterfuge?”

“Okay, truth be told I’ve never used that word in my life, but it was the word of the day on this dictionary app I have. And I was saving it for a good time, but I think I fucked it up,” he smiled, shaking his head.

She reached across the table, covering his hand with her own. “Let me get this straight. You not only learned a new word to use on me, but you have a dictionary app? You know you can just Google words, right?”

He shrugged. “I try to learn a new word as often as I can. It’s not much, but I feel smarter, even if I never use the word.”

“I thought it was cute.”

He chuckled, tracing his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re just trying to flatter me because I messed up.”

“No, I’m flattering you because you tried… and I missed you,” she said, squeezing his hand, the roughness of his skin comforting to her.

“God, I missed you more,” he whispered, eyes roaming over her face. “You really answered after all that time?”

“Yeah, of course. I knew you’d come back for me, eventually,” she smiled, burying the years of grief underneath the momentary gratification.

Her life since meeting and leaving Logan had been a probability. The numbers were infinite, the outcomes varied. She thought her psychology class would’ve been more rough on her mentally, but numbers didn’t lie.

Her calculus and statistics classes had been terrible – not just because she had to work twice as hard for a good grade in math classes, but because the problems so well translated to her life.

There were so many times that she could’ve died – so many times that she could’ve gone to prison for working with “criminals.” So many times that she jeopardized her future. And she was offered a way out, to start fresh.

But as many times as she tried to scare herself into feeling lucky and grateful for being steered back onto her path to success, she felt hollow. She had a one in a million chance of getting out of that life alive, but she had a one in a million chance of meeting Logan, too.

There were millions of people in Los Angeles County – she could’ve gone her whole life without knowing him, blissfully ignorant to the rough underbelly of the city she’d grown up in.

He changed her from the second he met her. Her probability split down the middle, branching into paths and subpaths, and multiple more until each move she made was critical. And the moment he left, she clung to him, despite the probabilities of them ever meeting again slimming more and more with each passing day.

He squirmed a bit, looking uncomfortable. She could tell that he was holding back. “Look, Raquel, I have to be completely honest with you, or it wouldn’t sit right with me. I know you haven’t seen me since you left for college, but… I’ve seen you.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, all of the jobs I’ve taken since leaving L.A. have been on the east coast, so I could stay close to you. To protect you.”

It shouldn’t have been music to her ears, but witnessing those words fall from his lips filled her soul with a sensation she could only describe as tranquility.

Her first year of college was riddled with depressive episodes, but the ensuing paranoia that came after she was reminded of The Brotherhood was even heavy, even more suffocating. She watched her back so much that her body was covered with bruises from the times she’d run into door frames, trash cans, people, sometimes causing her to trip and fall.

She was so unhealthily fixated on all of the possibilities and outcomes that she withdrew, not wanting to be the reason anyone close to her was harmed. She spent so long worrying that it nearly ruined her.

But hearing that he was always there, close enough to keep her safe, alleviated her, renewed her, replenished her. It nearly undid the hurt, minus a critical detail.

“Why didn’t you reach out to me?”

“I couldn’t… hurt you. The crews I ran with… it would’ve –” he cut himself off with a shake of his head, throwing back the bottle to finish it off.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Logan,” she whispered, watching his labored breathing, like he was so close to crumbling before her eyes.

“No, I can handle it. It just might take me a few tries to get it out,” he smiled weakly, gripping her hand, and she held firm, grounding him.

“Truthfully, I wanted to call you. You don’t know how many times I typed your number out and deleted it. I know your number by memory now.

“I was already here by the time you moved in. I’d been recruited by one of Teppei’s old friends, if you could call him that. He seemed like a great guy at first, but…” he trailed off, pained.

“It got really bad. This guy said he never worked with the same crew twice, and I thought since he kept calling me back that I was special.” He laughed curtly, the familiar look of brewing rage bubbling beneath the surface. “It was stupid, but each time he kept pushing me into doing more than I bargained for. I did a lot of things I couldn’t stomach, but by the time I realized what I was doing, I was already getting orders for the next job.”

He watched her hand on his, refusing to meet her eye.

“I always thought I’d dip when things got too rough, but I couldn’t give up being so close to you.”

“You didn’t run?”

“I told you I was tired of running,” he grinned, and it seemed alien on his gaunt face – like it’d been so long since he smiled he’d forgotten how to do it.

“So, what are you doing now, then?”

“Running.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, so deadpan, so pragmatic, that she knew not to pry. He was at rock bottom, and she was his only way out.

“What can I do?” she asked, no hesitation, ready to throw herself in the line of fire for him.

“I just need a ride to the used car lot on the other side of town. I have cash and someone there waiting to sell me one, so all I need is a ride.”

“You could’ve just called a cab or something, though. Why do you need me?” She prodded.

“I don’t know if you’re gonna like what I’m gonna say,” he hesitated, clearly torn.

“I can’t like or dislike it if you don’t tell me.”

He sighed. “Well, this might be the last time I can see you… for a while.”

“Can’t you just hide out and wait out till it’s safe? You can’t leave now, I just… I just got you back,” she choked, panicking and grieving all over again. 

“I have to. There’s a pretty hefty warrant out for me. And I’ve got people looking for me. I can’t drag you into that,” he said, solemn.

“No, you can get out, Logan, we just have to plan it out. We can beat this, we just have to try,” she whispered, vision blurring with tears.

“Hey, hey, Raquel, it’s okay, I’ve accepted it,” he soothed her, reaching out to stroke her face, swiping his thumb across the streaks of water the teardrops left behind. “I just wanted to see you before I left.”

“Logan, I can’t say goodbye again. I just got you back,” she repeated, the familiar sense of dread creeping in, her chest tight.

“I can’t. I’m in too deep.” And he left it at that.

He left a tip, and they walked to the car, hands intertwined. She wanted so badly to just talk – to catch up on the years he’d missed, to make him proud, but it wasn’t the time. There’d never be a time. Being together in that moment was precious, every minute counting.

She’d have to memorize every second; they would have to last her a lifetime.

“Do you want to drive?”

He chuckled in response, a spark of his old self coming back. “Nah, I’ll be doing enough of that. I really missed seeing you behind the wheel.”

They slipped onto the warm leather seats – the moist air left over from the rain had seeped into the atmosphere of the car. She cranked up the AC, sweat beading on the back of her neck.

She peeled out onto the gravel backroad, not knowing what to say next. Thankfully, he leaned forward to tap the volume knob, turning on the radio, but the soft hum of the engine drowned it out, white noise in their silence.

He slipped the dog tag from around his neck, ruffling his hair, and placed it on the neck of the rearview mirror. It dangled, catching the occasional light of the passing streetlight.

“Is that a new necklace?” she asked, watching it sway as she turned onto the ramp to merge onto the highway.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird.”

“I think we’re past that.”

“After I gave you my last necklace, I wanted something of my own to remember you by, so I got this done,” he rotated the piece towards her.

“Troublemaker” and her phone number was carved into the metal, scratched and slightly rusty.

“Oh, Logan,” she breathed, gripping the steering wheel harder. She couldn’t tell him bye. She’d just gotten him back.

“I want you to keep it.”

“No, you need it to remember me by, like you said,” she forced through a sob, the composure she’d thought she’d had a grasp on crumbling with each syllable that fell from his lips.

“I don’t need it, Raquel.”

“If I take it it means that…” she couldn’t say it.

“That it could get ugly. And I might not ever come back for you.”

“I want you to, though, Logan. I’m so close to finishing college, and I’m going to start med school soon, and I’m gonna have a great job, and I can take care of us and I–” she cut herself off, crying, her body heaving.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, and was met with the calloused pads of his fingers on her jaw.

“I can’t do this without you.”

“You can. You’re way stronger than you think. I know you made it through some hard ass classes without anyone’s help,” he joked.

“You are too.”

“This isn’t about me anymore. It was never really about me,” he said, tracing a hand down her shoulder to rub the nape of her neck lovingly. “I know you never moved on. Hell, I didn’t really let you move on since I was secretly playing bodyguard for years. But this time I’m serious. You’ve gotta let me go, Troublemaker.”

“You know I’ll never do that,” she laughed feebly.

“You have to at least try. For me.”

She didn’t answer him. She pulled off of the highway, begging for the car to break down, for some divine intervention to happen to prove that they deserved to be together.

When she parked in the empty lot, the only light coming from her headlights and the flashing streetlight, he turned to her, a softness in his haggard appearance.

They stared at each other, drinking in every inch of their bodies. She wanted to remember him as bright, more vigorous, more alive.

And before she knew it, their lips were on one another’s, fervent and hungry. He smelled exactly the same, and she breathed him in, lacing her fingers in his hair, taking full advantage of their brief moment of solitude.

He parted his mouth, tasting her, groaning. They kissed over and over, reacquainting themselves. It morphed into her breaking down, yet again, kissing and embracing him over and over, trying desperately to reclaim the moment as healing. But she couldn’t see it that way, even as he whispered affirmations in her ear, reminding her of all of the things he loved about her.

The rain picked up again, tapping insistently against the windshield, setting a much more soothing ambiance than the situation called for.

Finally, she leaned back, so unwilling to part from the warmth of his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he breathed, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I need to hit the road so I can make it over the state border by sunrise.”

“Logan…” she whispered, begging. “I know we can make this work.” She sounded like a broken record, proposing empty ideas with no solutions. She knew there wasn’t a solution, but she preferred empty words to the stinging slap of the truth.

“I’m a fugitive. You’re going to be a doctor. I can’t compromise that. It’s selfish.”

“But I want you to be selfish,” she clasped his hands in hers, holding it to her chest. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s the problem, Troublemaker. I can’t let you do that,” he brought her hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles once, twice, before unlocking his door, and stepping out. “You were always too good for me, Raquel.”

He circled to the front of the car and smiled at her one last time, the tears in his eyes glimmering, reflecting the headlights. She watched the rain dot blotches all over his ratty tee, clinging to his form, and it made her wish she’d been able to see all of him. 

Then he turned, and walked further and further into the lot of cars, his form becoming hazy before disappearing completely. 

And she couldn’t stop him. 

Probability always won in the end – the numbers didn’t lie. She could’ve seen it coming from a mile away, but she didn’t want to see it.

She was paralyzed in fear, knowing that there was no way she could save him from the hell that’d engulfed him, but refusing to believe it.

[talesfromcordonia]

The Princess Swap

PB has issues understanding consent and it’s come up again in The Princess Swap

In this book we have a case of ‘sex by deception’.

In Chapter 11 you can have sex with Devin. The problem? Devin doesn’t know who you are which invalidates Devin’s ability to consent. Of course this is going to be glossed over but can you imagine falling in love with someone, having sex with said person only for them to turn around and go ‘I am somebody else actually, oppsie!’. Finding out that the person you are in a relationship with has lied about pretty much everything about them isn’t something that won’t cause someone massive trauma.

Given the tone of the book, this isn’t going to be addressed. It’s likely Devin isn’t even going to be that bothered by it. There likely isn’t going to be a massive fall-out from what the MC’s are doing because that’s not the style they’re going for with this book. Sure we’re going to get a little drama but nobody’s going to have to face real consequences.

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC ≽ VII.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 8.2k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

All I wanted was to be accepted for who I was. At some point, I had realized I was the only one who could give myself that recognition. So why did I continue to search for the approval of others? Was it hardwired into my brain, or did I have something left to prove? 

"Do you mind if we talk?"

I didn't know the answer, but I figured it all started with him.

Namjoon had neared my side. He only stood steps away from where I was seated. The distance granted me space from his overwhelming presence. He became cautious after our last conversation. He was well aware of what he could provoke in me- it was heaven or hell.  

"I suppose we have to," I replied. 

It wasn't until he moved in front of me, that I laid my eyes upon him, for the first time today. A flash of the night before filled my mind, for a moment only. How he stood, surrounded by the other members, in the middle of that driveway. He was a separate man, now, in front of me. 

Namjoon took the seat his mother had been in, moments before. His arm was leaning, and his elbow was resting on the wooden surface of the bar. We both wondered, not only of how this would end, but how it would begin.

"Is there something between Jimin and you?" 

I wasn't expecting it to begin like this. 

"What are you talking about?" The concept seemed so foreign. Jimin was more like a brother to me than Namjoon ever was. 

"C'mon, babe, you can't tell me you haven't noticed." My cluelessness brought a smirk to his face. It was the kind of sneer that deepened the dimple on that side of his mouth.  

"Jimin and I have been friends since we were nine years old." I reminded him. "What happened yesterday was only because he was worried about me." 

Something in my words brought Namjoon's expression to shift. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, wiping away the smirk that rested there before. He leaned in as if he wanted to tell me a secret.

"You don't think I was worried about you?" His voice was like silk with a little bit of roughness at the end. He almost sounded jealous. 

"If you were- you had a funny way of showing it." I challenged him with my tone. Raising my brow as he leaned back in consideration of my words. 

He knew I was right. 

Though, all I managed to do was create a new grin resting on that mug. Namjoon, still being cautious, decided to not pursue the subject further. 

"You know... when I called you that day," Namjoon's eyes darted to the ground, a shyness taking over his confidence. "I couldn't stay on the phone- I was actually scared of what you might say to me."

"I wouldn't have known what to say anyway," I answered honestly. 

It wasn't like Namjoon to be so exposed. In others, this might have been a sign of trust and sincerity, but my trauma forced me to suspect him. 

"The entire day, I was thinking of what you coming home would look like." Even though I wanted to believe that the nights of his eyes didn't lie. "How things would work out between us, after everything."

The entire way to Blackburn, he was all I could think about, finding out that he was doing the same was unexpected. 

"Is it like you imagined?" I was interested to know.

"It is..." He smiled, thinking about what he only knew. "And it isn't,"

My eyes hadn't left his, even when he looked away, I continued observing. I pressed on, expecting that he would give me more detail than that. Namjoon was silent for a moment, pushing through his smile to speak. 

"I expected some of the fights," He admitted with a bit of laughter. "You put me in my place- never letting me get away with anything." 

He joked about it now. However, that wasn't the case during the actual arguments. I supposed certain things hadn't changed in our dynamic. Whether that was a good or bad thing was still up for debate. 

"But then there's... you." He said haltingly, seeming uncertain on how to explain what he intended. "I mean, I'm just the same guy- wearing the same cut. But you..."

The delivery of his voice mellowed when he drew his eyes back to mine. For a second, his black orbs resembled a raw umber color before he spoke.

"You're different," He held my gaze in his, I didn't notice him reaching for my lone hand until his skin was already brushing against mine. "Somehow... better than before."

"I'm..." I lingered on the thought. Namjoon's fingers ventured to weave themself between my own. "I'm not so sure about that." 

His fingertips were like fire that ignited my skin. I wanted to pull away from the flame, but it sent a rush straight to my chest. It was like passion, that could come in any form, anger or lust. 

"I am," He stated without hesitating. His eyes shifted down to where we met. His fingers were still caressing mine, which remained motionless. 

"When you came home it was like a sign to me- an opportunity to do things differently." 

 I felt nothing but right when he spoke to me like this. He was familiar and everything that I used to want. 

"I can't help but feel this is some kind of second chance."

But I knew better than to trust in a man like him, I knew better than to fall for his sweet words. Men like him, if you believed in their lies, they would eat you alive. He'll love me and leave me for dead. 

When my fingertips moved to return his attention, Namjoon looked up at me. The details of his expression had become clear in my line of sight. The skin of his full face and the texture of his plump lips. 

"I think you're smart," I hesitated as the words caught in my throat. "And I believe you do as much good as you can,"

I could see the color fading from his eyes, turning back into that dark abyss I knew so well. "But I spoke with your mother, and I think we're both just going through a confusing time right now."

The second I mentioned his mother, a scoff left his mouth. He was out of his seat before I finished the sentence. 

Namjoon pushed through his black hair, finding a way to contain the perplexity of my words. My shoulders curled in as I watched him place his hands on his hips. I already knew, not so nice things were going to leave his mouth. 

"Don't you get tired of it?" The smile on his face was not true. "Running away from everything?"

His feet were wondering, and I rose to mine at his accusation. 

"I'm not running from anything," I spoke, moving to find his face once again. I stepped in front of him, and he refused to look at me. "I'm just being realistic, Namjoon." 

His eyes were still looking off to the ground, I pushed myself forward, shoving my hands at his shoulder for his attention. He was a six-foot child in front of me. 

"Do you know why you can't ever be sure? Why you always have those doubts floating in your head?" He asked aggressively, now turning to look me dead in the eye, and I was afraid. 

"Because you listen to everyone! Those voices in your head-" He almost stepped on my feet, quickly tapping his fingers into the temple of my left side. "Are your old man, my mother, and anyone else trying to tell you how to live!" 

His stare was full of bitterness. I felt his breath over me as he yelled. I didn't know whether to return the response or begin to cry. 

"The (Y/n), that I knew, did whatever felt right!" He offended me with the person I once was." She knew what she wanted- did whatever it took to get it, regardless of the consequences!" 

I both yelled and cried.

"Well, I'm not her anymore!"

My father made sure of that, tears glossed over my eyes, and my voice strained at the new pitch. He stopped his speaking, pressing his lips inward at the statement. 

"If I was so goddamn special- why didn't you ever come to find me!?" The waterworks pooled around my eyes and trailed off my cheeks. The drops of pain stained the floor between us. 

"Why did you just leave me there to rot!?" 

I didn't leave or turn away like I wanted to. I wanted his answer, the truth that I deserved to know. That familiar look of guilt on his face was clear, but it was mixed with a self-hate I had never seen in him before. 

"Because I was afraid," 

He declared shamefully. "It killed me to know you were less than ten hours away- I wasn't man enough to do anything about it then."

The years had been cruel to me and I could not let them go. I tried and tried to find the person inside of me who was better, who had overcome the misery. However, the more I searched, the more I was sure that she did not exist. 

It had been seven years and four months without him, seven years and four months that I hadn't seen his face. Even though I had not been happy, I learned to live without him and without the life. Now after all this time, what could I say to a king, who wanted to give me everything?

"There is nothing left,”

I couldn't look any longer into those black orbs; they only ever showed me what I could not bear to face. I turned away, even with nowhere left to go. 

The sound of a table crashing to the floor didn't even phase me as I walked away. I left him standing there in the middle of the bar, where my first mistake happened all those years ago. 

"Do you know how many women I've been with since you left?!" Namjoon yelled behind me but I didn't dare look. He was verbally reaching to bring me back, keep me in his hold of endeavor. 

"Hundreds- maybe more! I don't even know."

I felt his steps echo behind mine as I made my way toward the back of the bar. Even with the tears blurring my vision and the weight of the fight bearing in my body, I knew the way to the bedroom where I remained. 

"(Y/n)!" He called after me. 

The door had been left shut, which hindered me from swiftly seeking shelter inside. The moment I paused to reach for the door handle, Namjoon lunged and crossed his arm in my way. His tall figure was peering down at me, waiting for me to return his stare. 

when I did, it was barely, and all I could do was sigh. 

"I don't know because I barely see their faces." Namjoon's voice was lighter now that we were this close. His eyes looked into me, begging for me to hear him out.

"When I'm inside someone, there is only one face that I see..." Namjoon's hand appeared beside my face. His fingertips ghosted against my cheek, his hand resistant to touch me without permission. "That's yours- and I don't know how to get you out my head anymore."

He balled his hand into a light fist, taking in a breath of air and breaking our eye contact, before letting it fall to his side. Namjoon stepped back, his arm left the door wide open for me to run, but I did not. I didn't dare to move in the sway of his stare. My feet were like cement plastered to the wooden floor. 

"Just answer me this," His voice promised me it would be the last.

"What do you want?"

I came across this road time and time again, and still I remained sitting at its path. I was too far to see where I was going, but I had to trust it would lead me to where I was meant to be. 

"It's a simple question," Namjoon described. I could no longer look down that long path, I merely had to look at my next step. 

"It's not a simple answer," I replied in hesitation.

What did I want, right here- right now?

My heartbeat in reverse and cold sweats ran up my body. I was a junkie ready to relapse just by being close to him. I was dying to be set ablaze under his fire. I loved the chaos.

"I want you," I let myself realize. 

It all happened so fast.

The only thing I saw, were those large black eyes coming to pull me into the darkness. His body swallowed me whole. Every inch was encased between him and the wooden door. I swore my feet weren't even touching the ground anymore. He held me in the darkness, but every moment in there was a second of bliss.

His mouth was the friction to ignite my skin. It was a heatwave that spread across my being, rippling with the intensity of hot July. His hands seemed to embrace every inch of me. I felt as if my body was putty in his hands, he molded me anyway he wanted, and I loved it.  

His tongue brushed in and out of my mouth, gently pushing against my own. It was a battle in our mouths, one that he would forever win. Oxygen was lost in my breath, each attempt seemed shallow, as every touch brought me to gasp for more. He loved to hear my wavering breath and abandoned my lips for the trail along my neck to better listen. My hands, in the meantime, pushed up the material of his white tee. His leather cut kept me from removing it off his body, however, did not forbid my hands from wandering underneath. 

For the first time, in a long time, there was not a single shred of doubt in my mind. There was no question about it, no voice of reason or consequence. This is what I wanted, and so, this was what I was going to get. I almost felt like my old self again, and that was terrifying. 

At some point, he opened the door and carried me in his arms. My legs wrapped around his hips while he moved us to the center of the room, where the bed awaited. His mouth had not slowed down in exploring the parts of my skin that were revealed. One of my hands remained tucked under his shirt, while the other was hooked around his neck for security. 

Before I knew it, he had left me to fall, my body caught by the springy mattress underneath. A yelp slipped from my lips, moving to rid wild strands of hair from my eyesight. Namjoon's knees pressed against the edge of the mattress, he overlooked my figure, sprawled out on the bed for him. The light of the room lined with his head, casting his body into a silhouette of almost pure evil. He looked at me like a new toy and licked his lips as a result. My desire built in my veins, reaching every nerve of my being, a desire that was only for him. 

Without a single thought, we both raced to remove our clothing, which had become irritatingly restrictive. My fingers laced over my shirt, pushing the material over my head and flinging it somewhere over the room. I returned to see Namjoon had done the same, his white tee falling to the floor, where his leather cut had landed first. 

We met halfway to our kiss, our hands finding the newly unveiled skin of each other. Namjoon's weight pressed me back into the sheets, placed a knee in between my legs, and pushed his pelvis against my hip. The feeling of him growing hard against me made me shamelessly moan in his mouth.  

He chuckled deep in his chest, realizing how much I wanted him and how much he wanted me. His hands pushed down the cups of my bra, my straps slipping off with them, and my breast revealed shivering skin. My body had flushed with the heat of my blood, goosebumps erupting from his wet tongue. I pulled my arms out of the elastic straps and attained his head at my chest. My fingers ran through the front and back of his hair. I arched my back against him, gripping a fistful of hair, and watching as he took in my nipple in between his lips. 

I swallowed the sounds that wanted to leave my mouth. Namjoon's hands cupped my breasts as I pushed my hips against him. I couldn't get enough of his mouth, of his touch- like a true owner of my body he knew all that I wanted. We had waited for seven years and I could not wait for another second. 

I pulled his head away, held him in my hands, and brought him back to my lips. There, I kept him occupied while my hands were free to roam lower between us. My hand ran over the bulge in his jeans, His breath hitched in my mouth for a moment. His body shuddered over me as I ran my hand up and down his length. 

 "You're greedy..." Namjoon snickered when he didn't want to moan. I gripped him harder and watched his eyes darkened with lust. He shut his mouth trying to conceal with the grunt from his throat. "You're going to regret that," 

He warned me and smacked away my teasing touch. Namjoon returned on his knees and quickly undid the button of his jeans, the zipper coming off as he pulled them open. I also grew impatient with the blood boiling under my skin. I mimicked his actions with my own pants also, unhooking my bra in the process. 

Left in only his boxer briefs, Namjoon was ready to devour me once again. However, before he could, I set forth and placed my hands on his bare chest. 

"Hold on..." I said, taking a moment to get lost under the toned skin of his torso. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, concerned at first. 

For a second, I almost allowed shyness to get the better of me. Then, I remembered exactly who I was. 

"Leave your cut on," I stated. 

It wasn't even a question. 

Namjoon paused for a moment, the words registering through his head. Soon enough, his mouth turned into a smirk as he stepped off the edge of the bed. I couldn't help but smile as he reached down to retrieve the leather cut from the floor. I watched him swing the piece of clothing over his shoulder, the black material contrasting his nude skin. It made my heart beat like a drum. 

Namjoon pressed his mouth onto mine to see if I was satisfied. His hands snaked around my waist, pulling me close to him and pulled us further up the bed. There were fewer clothes between us now, and I could feel all of him as he pressed himself between my legs. 

My hips squirmed at the friction, all the little gasps, and moans that followed, as a result, were driving him insane. My hands ran up his chest, nails clinging to the nape of this neck, as his thrusts were desperate. 

"D-Don't make me w-wait," I hissed at him through my teeth, failing to sound demanding with the growing heat between my thighs.  

"You want it?" He taunted me with his husky voice. His hand crept between our bodies, to where I need him the most. "Then tell me you want it." 

His fingers parted my lower lips, where he collected the arousal that gathered between them. I bit down on my lip, feeling obligated not to give in so easily. His thumb brushing past my clitoris while he teased my entrance. 

"Damn you, Namjoon..." I cursed him. 

His head lowered out of my sight, his mouth ravishing the already memorized sweet spots on my neck. 

"I love it when you say my name," His voice muttered against my skin. 

I dug my nails harder into the base of his neck, his palm pressing against my aching core. The stimulation coursing through my center and to the tips of my toes. My hips ignored my pride and rocked against his torment. It didn't take too long for my lips to do the same. 

"P-Please," I whispered. 

Namjoon turned his face to me, pressing a kiss against my cheek. I could feel the smile on his lips as he was feeling victorious.

"Please what, babe?" He teased further. 

Just like any other one of our fights, he would always win them. 

"I want it..." I begged. "I want you." 

He pushed my thighs further apart with the palms of his hands. Then he moved one of them to wrap around my waist, and he took himself in the other. 

"Okay, princess." He planted a kiss on my cheeks again, this time, as a promise. 

His eyes stammered down between our bodies, his eyebrows contoured in concentration. Beads of sweat were already forming along the line of his hair, running down his neck from the forest of his undercut, making his skin glow in the room light. 

Namjoon returned my gaze just as he pushed himself inside of me, stretching my walls and causing my eyes to flutter. A silent gasp opened my mouth while my body stiffened at the feeling. His breath ghosted over my chest as he sunk deep inside of me, his hand gripping the side of skin in his hold. 

"Fuck..." His deep tone made my skin shutter with delight. 

I strengthened my hold on him, feeling him start to pull out, my walls tightened, wanting to keep him buried. The feeling must have convinced him otherwise because he drove his length to my brim right away. His hips snapped against mine, not being able to hold back any longer. 

Namjoon's other hand came up to my hips, digging his fingertips into my flesh, keeping me where he wanted me. His arm underneath me pulled me in closer, my back arching off the bed, and my breast pressed against his chest and the leather cut. My legs trembled and caressed against his own, the pleasure running straight through them. 

"Ah!" I couldn't keep my mouth shut. 

Namjoon didn't seem to have a problem with that. In fact, he encouraged it with his mouth leaving wet kisses across my throat. The feeling was a tickle compared to the satisfaction tightening in my middle. 

I lusted for the taste of him, of his tongue, of his desire. Connected, as one, the same thought crossed through his mind. This kiss was rougher, driven by the appetite of our passion. A kiss from his lips, that traveled beyond my mouth, directly to my head. There, the effects made the world around us appear better than before. My body didn't know how to do anything else but give in. 

I squirmed and trembled underneath him. Every motion of his body was like a tidal wave, and my insides were the shoreline. The room began to fill with the noises of our bodies. Every sound from our mouths was a push further to the breaking point deep within. He made me feel parts of my body that I had forgotten were there. The touch of his sweetened my skin all over. 

He dropped my waist, my body failing to support itself, and came crashing down on the bed. There was space between us now for air to flow through. Namjoon's hold resigned to the sides of my hips, where he sat on his knees and brought my lower half onto his lap. He supported my momentum and rocked me into him at a new angle.

"Oh! Y-Yes..." I cried. My hands clawed upward, searching for the pillow he was pounding me toward, something I could hold onto. 

As much as I wanted to look, to stare at his tensing arms holding me down and his tightening abdomen that kept his hips rolling into me, my eyes merely couldn't stay open long enough. 

That seemed to be a problem.

I didn't even see his hands coming to grab me, this time lifting me forward. I dropped the cushion as he took my arms, sitting me upright on his thighs. My weight pushed me down onto his cock. My wild instinct took over and kept my hips moving. 

I grabbed his shoulders for support. I fought back to dig my nails into the fine leather of his cut as my forehead rested against his. I could feel my spirit being washed over by the euphoria, the more I stared into his eyes, the more sure I was falling into the abyss. 

"I want you..." Namjoon's breath was shallow, and his voice laced with truth. His hands, coiling around me to keep me gazing in. "More than I've ever wanted a-anyone..." 

Just as the saying goes, I was sure that the abyss was now gazing back into me.

Both of my arms moved around his head, meeting at the back of it, and gripping his black hair. I already accepted that I passed the point of no return. 

With my legs numb, I continued to ride us to the edge of our high. My nipples were hard and rubbing against the sewn-in patches on his chest. I could feel myself dripping down my thighs as my velvet insides pulsed around him. My abdomen was burning and turning. Tears of ecstasy threatened the clarity of my vision. However, I could see it in his eyes that he wanted it too. 

"Please, I-I want to-" The words stammered out of my mouth, being cut short by Namjoon's actions. 

He grabbed a fist full of my hair, allowing my head to fall back as I prepared for the pleasure to rip me apart. My body entered in a state of shock as he thrust upward eagerly. The velocity of his movements began to merge with the speed of my heartbeat. They become one in my ringing ears, and the feeling in my core radiated into every nerve. 

He didn't stop, every second of my high was played until, the feeling of him finishing inside of me. It was a sensation like no other, one that I had experienced for the first time. 

-

Time had gone by, and we remained under the shelter of the blankets. Our legs were tangled underneath, allowing our bodies to rest and recover, while our minds began to process. I laid on my stomach, Namjoon's arm was under my head, and his eyes wandered over my open back. His fingertips traced figures that were unknown to me on the curve of my shoulder. 

The after-effects ran gradually in my head, a cloud-like feeling that made everything seem peaceful. It was like nothing could bother us at this moment, even if someone walked through the door, we were in our world. Though nothing had been resolved, only complicated further, there was no fear.

When our parents got together, he was 15, and I was 14, we were as different as black and white. Our entire upbringing was a contest, one with a winner and a loser. It's not hard to tell how that worked out. Though, even now, I was afraid that wouldn't change. It wasn't a childish habit neither of us couldn't let go, it was more than that, it was like the natural order of things. We were two sides of a spectrum and there was no balance in the middle. One of us would have to lose.

"What are you thinking about?" Namjoon asked gently. 

I had been staring off into the shadow on his arm that was cast by his big head. When I looked up at him, his eyes had noticed that I was hundreds of miles away. 

"How we ended up here," I replied. 

Namjoon's touch had trickled from his fingers to the palm of his hand. He caressed my skin tenderly before leaning down and setting a kiss on the bone of my arm. 

"Does that still matter to you?" He uttered against my skin. His breath warmed over the patch of space and made me follow his every move.

A part of me felt like it was an easy topic to start a fight about. His perspective on our past was different because we lived two different lives. Whether he knew it or not, was irrelevant at this moment, I didn't feel like fighting anymore. 

"I'm just trying to make sense of it all," I answered lightly, even though the matter was weighing heavily. "Why did things have to happen this way?"

Namjoon moved his body closer, his head tilted low so that his eyes would reach my level. He pushed loose pieces of hair that had fallen over my face while he took the question for himself.

"I think... sometimes people make bad decisions,"' He explained his philosophy with ease. His hand lingering over my cheek, now rid of anything that may disturb his touch. "Decisions that affect everyone,"

I couldn't tell what past decisions he was referring too. If he had any in particular that he blamed. "But the world has a way of straightening things out,"

Namjoon leaned his head on his shoulder, face leveling with mine. He laid where my hand had been resting between us, his lips pressed against my pinky finger as he smiled. 

"If you give it the chance," He added. A hint lingered in his voice, indicating that he meant it directly to me.

I lifted that same hand, bringing it just over his face, and letting it fall flat on his cheek. The playful slap made him chuckle, taking a hold of the abusive hand with his own. 

"Give it a chance or give you a chance?" I asked, seeing through the suggestion of his theory. 

"Is that what you think this could be?"

Maybe I couldn't come up with answers on my own. Just knowing where Namjoon stood, however, gave me a direction to work off.

"Why not?" He responded, making a good point. 

"I have always liked you and," He paused as he realized the confession he had just made. It was too late to take it back now. "And you, at the very least, like parts of me." 

I hated that he found himself so funny, with a laugh that spread a smile on his face. I hated that it made me laugh as well, like the 18-year-old he made me feel like, but most of all, I hated that he was right. 

"I've begun to think that I'm a grenade, Namjoon," I said as he squeezed my hand in his palm. "I was only built to do one thing,"

Destruction was all I knew, it's how I dealt with any and every emotion. It was going to happen one way or another.  

"Are you sure you want to pull the pin?"

I didn't mean to come off so bleak after having the best sex of my life. But I felt like there was always something to question with Namjoon. Everything he said made me realize where I stood, and it was usually on the other side.

"I think you're forgetting who you're talking to," He had lost the playfulness in his voice. "Crazy and destructive is all I've ever known." 

With Jaeeun as a mother, I didn't doubt it for a minute. 

It seemed, one thing Namjoon and I had in common, where the questionable morals our parents had imposed upon us. We could see the wrong, the toxicity of it all, but it was just the way of our world. That's why we could only attract people like ourselves. That's why our parents worked so well. 

I realized in my downward spiral of hopelessness that I was actually falling into a huge hole created by my absence of ever learning basic human graces. The most obvious was forgiveness. 

For my father, If he had been wronged by anyone, in or out of the club, he had to be compensated by money or blood. There was no turning the other cheek. When relationships become a ledger of profit and loss, you have no friends, no loved ones, just pluses, and minuses. You are absolutely alone.

Which was the irony of this life, after all. We were family but with conditions and expectations. Regardless of real blood or not, if you didn't serve a need, you weren't worth much. 

Having self-awareness on the matter didn't exactly give me the solution to resist it. I still felt that things were owed to me, so much so, I spent seven years of my life dwelling on it. I started to consider it was too late for me to unlearn such a severe trait. 

"Do you ever think of living differently," I asked him because I was forced to, and I came running back, anyway. 

"What? Like, leaving the club?" He asked, almost appalled. 

"No, of course not." Even if he could, I had already learned that leaving Blackburn didn't equal a normal life.

The issue wasn't Bangtan, the issue was the people in it, the things we chose to do with it. "I mean like steering Bangtan out of the trafficking business." 

Even though Namjoon's eyes were looking into mine, it's like he wasn't there. Something about that idea took him far from this conversation. I couldn't tell if it provoked fear or inspiration of some sort. 

"I don't have any other skills," He answered bluntly. I could see the idea was still playing through his mind. "I mean, I'm an okay bartender with a high school diploma but," 

He came back to me but failed to make eye contact. 

"The only thing I ever did well was outlaw."

Though I understood what he was saying, something about his answer was strange to me. Namjoon was one of the smartest people I had ever known, and it was a concept much larger than ourselves. I found his thought process to be very one-dimensional.

"Besides," He continued. His demeanor returned to what it was before my question, meaning he was about to discard it.

Namjoon took my arm and pulled me onto his chest, my head now laying at the edge of his shoulder. Our naked bodies now conduct heat between each other. 

"How am I going to take care of you, if I decide to do something as absurd, as make an honest living?"

My brain should have taken the entire sentence for what it meant, but I was hung-up on the first part. My head lifted off his body, looking for those dark eyes that stared at the ceiling. 

"Oh, is that what you want to do?" I laughed. His mouth smirking, knowing well that this would be my reaction. 

"Yes," He replied confidently. 

He cupped my face and quickly brought his kiss to me. His mouth seizing my top lip, and being graceful in slipping his tongue. "That's exactly what I want."

He barely stopped to get the words out. His hands ran down my shoulder, fingers wrapping around my arm and tugging me to come closer. I swung my leg over his hip, my breast brushing up his ribs to take more of his sweet mouth. 

"You're going to treat me good?" I hardly teased. It was difficult for me to taunt him when he was making my body melt in his arms.

"As good as my leather," He promised. His hand groped the skin down to my leg.

His hands promised more than just that, they hooked behind my knee, craving the idea of me straddling his hips.

"As long as you promise to ride me as much as your Harley." He whispered.

As intriguing as his words were, I pushed him away and slapped the center of his chest. He only chuckled, letting go of my leg and rubbing away the pain from my hand. 

I liked to see his eyelids turn into slits when his full cheeks built against them. The corners of his mouth reveal a smile that never ages. I rested my chin on his center and watched the laughing drain out his body. 

I don't know if it was just me, my mind that didn't know how to enjoy a moment of happiness but I had to say something. 

"If I'm going to be here- If we're going to do this," I said sternly, not wanting him to discard it like other things I've said in the past. 

"Then, you have to tell me the truth... all of it." 

He looked down at me, as best as he could, from his position on his back. His eyes were gentle and patient with me. "Not just what you think I have to know or can handle."

Namjoon nodded his head, looking at the desire of making this work in my eyes. It was one of the first times I felt that we could have been on the same page, or at the very least, tried to be.

"I know," He assured me, leaning down and kissing the top of my head affectionately. "I will,"

As much as I wanted to believe him, there was no experience for me to put my faith in. If anything, I had just the opposite, an entire lifestyle that promoted falsehood. 

"How can I trust you?" I asked him to convince me. 

"I can't lie to you," He simply stated. 

Namjoon sighed and ran this thumb across my cheek. "Not you (Y/n). Not when I already have to lie to everyone else."

I knew that was the draining part of our life. Inside the club, there had to be truth. Our word was our honor. But outside, it was all about deception. Lies were our defense, our default. To survive, you had to master the art of perjury. The lies and the truth had to feel the same. But once you learned that skill, nobody knew the truth in or outside the club- especially not you.

"We should get up," I told him. 

He looked at me as if he wanted my response to his words, but that would take a while. I didn't doubt his feelings, but his capability of following through was different. Even though I would like to think he could stick around. "The bar has to open soon." 

Namjoon nodded, his arms coming loose around my figure. 

"You're probably right," He grumbled as I moved to allow him space to get up. 

There were so many other things that I wanted to talk about, but it seemed better to let us live. I didn't know if this was true or a fairy tale I wanted to believe in. Things would play out just the way they were supposed to, and I would just have to enjoy the ride. 

I rolled onto my back with a hard sigh. Namjoon had already pushed the covers off his waist and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The quilt-like covers just barely hid his ass as he was reaching for his leather on the nightstand. However, that wasn't the first thing that had caught my attention.

It was as if he hadn't taken off his cut. Tattooed into his skin, in black ink, was the entire backside of his leather, the top, and bottom rockers, as well as, the center patch and MC cube. 

The moment I saw it, I shut my eyes and cursed myself. It was then I knew that this man would ruin my life if I let him. 

- 

Namjoon walked with me outside of the bar to where my motorcycle was left parked all night. It was like a gentleman escorting a lady to her door after the first date. Though I suppose it was the bikers' edition. Besides telling him my plans for the day, we didn't speak much. 

If I was going to be staying at the bar, I needed more than alcohol, coffee, and peanuts to live off. There was a working kitchen that we only used during parties but was full of junk food. I figured I would buy groceries, and then work on the Fatboy. An average day is all I wanted, and it was already off to a pleasant start. 

However, when we stepped foot outside, we were not met with the empty parking lot that I hoped. The California sun was overhead, making the parking lot appear a water-thirsty desert. There were three other bikes parked besides Namjoon's and I's. The engines were still running, and their owners remained seated, seeming as if they just pulled up. 

My footsteps immediately become slower at the new information. Namjoon didn't notice as he was two or three steps ahead. It was stupid- I know. Nevertheless, I felt that the moment we approached them, they would magically know what happened between us. It was as if the words technically incest was written across our foreheads. Knowing that running away wasn't an option only made me panic further. 

This was one of the things we should have talked about.

The first member my eyes laid on was Yoongi, as he was parked the closest, just beside Namjoon's Harley. Due to his height, Seokjin was easy to recognize in the parking spot beside him. Though once Seokjin abandoned his bike, he left room for me to see who was on the other side of him. It was Jimin. 

He followed in Seokjin's footsteps, unmounting his bike and gathering around Yoongi's. The same feeling of the night before came flooding back. My worry of just a few seconds ago had completely dissipated into the air.

Now, my unwilling steps had become active stomps. Namjoon only took notice as I passed him by without any warning. My new demeanor caught the attention of everyone around me, but my eyes were fixed on only him.

He saw me coming, of course, but still did not expect my anger. There wasn't even a time for a formal greeting.  

"Hey, wha-!"

Jimin's words fell short once I grabbed him by the arm. My feet didn't miss a beat as I dragged him with me across the abandoned parking lot. I was well aware that I was causing a fuss. Just like I knew there was no way I was actually hauling Jimin off his feet, he was coming along willingly. The distance where I had stopped was far enough to make overhearing us difficult for the others. 

Once I let him free, it wasn't even an entire second before my hands were all over him again. As strongly as I could, I shoved his chest, barely making him stumble on his feet. I did that, over and over again, each time he would be a step further away.

"(Y/n)!" Jimin's hands came up defensively, keeping on guard, of any other hands coming his way. My rage had taken over me completely. Now, I was the child throwing a tantrum. I could feel my arms shake and ball into fists, tears burning in my eyes just by looking at him. "Hey! Relax," 

He took hold of my wrists and took notice of how deeply upset I was. My chest was rising and falling, my face burning with the color of red. "Just tell me what's wrong- what did I do?"

I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I even thought that I wouldn't, but it simply came out. 

"What the hell were you thinking!?" I barked at him. My hands still, fighting to make contact with him. "Detonating a bomb by hand?! Have you completely lost your mind?!"

His grip, along with the feature of his face, softened at my accusation. I imagined half of it was out of shock and confusion. "You could have died! You piece of sh-"

Before I could finish my words, my face was buried in his chest. Jimin's arms came to my aid, one of them, gently holding the back of my head. 

I just lost it, breaking down into tears, without any control of my emotions.I didn't know that the events of last night had affected me so much. 

Having seen Jimin in such a dangerous situation, when mortality was so recent in my thoughts, was too much to bear. My father had only been dead a few days, and I couldn't possibly handle losing someone else. 

"I-I'm sorry..." He replied hesitantly. He wasn't apologizing for his actions but for the fact that they had frightened me. I knew that. "I had it under control though,"

I scoffed in his shirt, trying to stay angry at him, but I just couldn't. I was so relieved that he was unharmed and I couldn't hide that. I put on my brave face and moved out of his embrace. With a little bit of embarrassment residing on my cheeks, I attempted to wipe my skin dry. 

"Are you okay?" Jimin asked still, concerned with my outburst.

"Yeah," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes, grateful I hadn't applied any makeup this morning. "But if you ever do something stupid like that again-"

I sighed, finding it hard to come up with an empty threat. "I'll kill you myself,"

Jimin smirked and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. I caught a glance at the group across from us. Seokjin gossiped to Yoongi while Namjoon wore a slightly annoyed expression. I knew I would have to do some explaining to him later. 

"How did you know?" I also knew that question was coming, and I wasn't proud to say that I was a good liar.

"Namjoon told me," I spoke naturally. 

It was a hard lie to sell, but once Jimin finds out about me and Namjoon's relationship, it will make more sense. 

"He did?" He was obviously surprised and didn't know how to react. 

"Yeah," I assured him. "We're working things out..." 

To hold up this lie, I had to trust in Jimin's place in the club. Namjoon was the president, and it wasn't Jimin's right to question why he would share information with me. It felt wrong to lie to him this way, I felt like a meticulous manipulator, but I couldn't tell him the truth. Not yet, at least. 

 I could see on Jimin's face that he had more questions to ask about the matter. However, there was no time, our attention had been seized by something else.

A gray van came rushing into the parking lot. Jimin had pulled me back, afraid the vehicle could have actually run me over. He stood in front of me, protectively, drawing out his gun from his back pocket. 

The van had made it from one side of the parking lot to the other. I spotted Namjoon also being on edge with Yoongi and Seokjin, debating if they should approach or not. The vehicle stopped in the middle of a U-turn and opened up its inner side door. 

It was too familiar to the first night I arrived. I think we were all prepared to have some kind of shootout in the middle of the parking lot. 

Except, when the door opened, the single man who we spotted didn't have a gun in his hand. He was dressed in dark clothing, dark jeans, and a tee-shirt, with a bandana covering everything under his nose. Instead of an automatic weapon, he had a gym bag over his shoulder. 

He tossed the bag out of the van, it landed somewhere between us, before he just as quickly slid the door back shut. The van wasted no time and rushed out of the parking lot as fast as it had come in. It disappeared down the road, and no one knew what to do. 

The black gym bag just laid there in the middle of the parking lot, under a hot burning sun. 

Namjoon was the first one to start approaching the sack, Seokjin, and Yoongi following behind him. They stepped with caution, Jimin locked eyes with them and did the same. I trailed closely behind him, and we only made it about three feet away from the bag before slowly stopping once again. 

"(Y/n) stand back," Namjoon ordered me, but my head was already spinning with possibilities. 

It couldn't be a bomb- they wouldn't risk tossing it on the ground that way. 

"(Y/n)," Jimin also called as I had passed him, getting closer than any of them. 

It wasn't until then that I noticed that there was something else. The cloth of the bottom side of the bag appeared darker, wet as if something had spilled. 

Then, something Romero had said last night popped into my head. 

I could smell it, but I had to make sure. I reached down, the boys gathering around me now as I carefully went to unzip the pouch. 

"Oh my god!" I gasped.

I stumbled back as I caught a glimpse. The smell hit me, decaying meat, and the trail of death. Inside the bag were two severed heads. 

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