#who knows what the fuck's going on it's not my problem

[rokonrrc2]

Learn More

every time I think about my gender I get confused so I simply stopped thinking about it. it is not my problem

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 9 - Death

summary : maybe it is time for reader to move on from patterns that are now useless and reconsider things

content warnings : some angst, then some comfort, then more angst, then more comfort, some crude language an mentions of harassment

word count : 6.1k

author's note : okay i think i might write my old bg3 requests still sitting in my inbox after this but!!!! im excited to write the next chap

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world <3

masterlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt

You had spent your Saturday recovering, not without frustration. It was a waste of time, you thought. You could have taken advantage of a day without any classes or work like that to study and make more progress, but Selene had come to visit you, worried.

She officially met Sky, who had always admired her since her first lessons with her. Selene had come to your bedside, placing a gentle hand on your forehead for a moment, then letting it slide down to your warm cheek. She sighed, familiar with your overworking habits.

She asked Sky about your night, about the prescribed treatment, and Selene couldn't help but exchange a knowing glance with you when Viktor was mentioned, especially for such chivalrous deeds. She smiled a playful ‘see, I told you so’ which made you pull your cover over your head in annoyance.

When she left, Sky came back to you, bringing you a chicken broth to restore your health, which she hoped you'd consume to the last drop.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this and calling them, calling him. But..." She sighed, watching you finally eat something with relief. "You were working yourself to death, and with such a pace, you probably wouldn't have been able to pass the exams at all if you'd kept going."

You swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, a small knot of shame and regret tightening it. You'd been so obsessed, so fixated on outdoing yourself and winning back your number one spot from Viktor that you'd become nothing more than an information-gobbling machine.

You didn't even need it, you'd just decided to get ahead on the next year's syllabus in the hope of impressing in the papers and showing your dedication. How could you be so stupid? 

"Your state was deteriorating visibly..." Sky reflected, looking down at her hands before only meeting your gaze for a moment. "You really scared me, you know."

Your heart split in two. You placed your lunch tray on your bedside table, taking Sky's hands in yours and seeking her gaze despite her bowed head.

"Hey," you murmured in your tired voice as you smiled softly at her when she looked back at you. "You did the right thing, Sky. Without you..." you sighed, thinking back on your stupidity, "I don't know where I'd be right now. This was going to eat me alive until there would be nothing left of me but a white chalk outline on my desk."

She smiled softly, squeezing your hands. Her eyes glistened, her chin trembling slightly as she took off her glasses.

"Oh, Sky..." You pulled her into your arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry."

You couldn't imagine how tired she must have been, seeing you wasting away like that, not listening to her, not hearing her. She had her own revisions, her own things to do, and you had made your problem hers.

You could feel her forehead wrinkling, her hands trembling slightly around you as she twitched.

Since when did you become such an important part of someone's life that they cared that much about you?

What would have happened if, for one more year, you'd never had a flatmate? And if that flatmate hadn't been Sky, would she have had even an ounce of patience like your friend?

You'd fucked up and nearly gone off the deep end, and Sky had done everything she could to avoid it.

"I promise you to never do that again," you vowed, pulling away from her to run your thumb over her cheek and wipe away the tears. "Please, don't cry on me. Cry on... I don't know, Heimerdinger's hairstylist."

Don't cry for me, I'm not worth a waste of tears, not yours.

She laughed nervously, her eyes going to the ceiling. "I don't know why I'm crying, really, this is..." she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "this is stupid."

"No, it's not," you smiled, "It's good to cry."

She raised her eyebrows, wiggling her nose and shrugging. "Well, you never do."

"That's because I sold my lacrimal glands," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood by joking.

And it worked - she laughed, the sadness slowly evaporating from her face. "So you have no tears, but you still have your heart, right ?"

You closed your fist, banging it against your chest. "It's a dusty engine, but it does its work."

"Well," she stood up, "I hope it can still feel something."

You observed her for a moment, picking up a saucepan and filling it with water. No doubt to make coffee, or at least tea to ward off your addiction and prevent your mechanical heart from overheating under the caffeine. No amount of Piltovian gold could offer you anything like Sky's sweetness.

"My heart's full of room for the very few friends I have." You picked up your bowl of broth again, its warmth cupped against your fingers. "Its aorta is named after you."

She turned to you, smiling, her eyes filling again with tears as she breathed in. 

"You can't just say things like that and not expect me to ruin a box of these," she described movements in the air with her hands in ridiculous, exagerated swirls, "silk-soft tissues they have here."

"Their toilet paper is so thick and soft it feels like we're using pillows," you sneered before blowing on the bouillon.

"Right?!" Sky exclaimed, "It's only been like, a month and a half since I've been here and it all feels so fancy. Everything is so... clean."

"I know!" You laughed, "It's infuriating. The streets barely have a scratch, the buildings have colours straight out of a kid's colouring book, and they have trees."

She sighed, visualising the vegetation the city had before her eyes fell back on yours. "You never get used to it, right?"

You swallowed your mouthful of broth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Never."

She leaned back against the worktop, watching you for a moment. "Seriously though." She tilted her head to one side. "Don't ever do that again."

You smiled, bringing your forefinger and thumb to your ear and pressing on the lobe. 

It was a custom in Zaun to pledge your word. In the Undercity, you pressed your lobe as if you were piercing it, to imaginatively seal in the skin a ring other than the one on your finger. However, everyone knows that if you pull too hard on a piercing, you can tear the flesh, and find it difficult to retie the skin so that it can be pierced again. So the promise was made with a symbolic ring, anchored in the skin, that the promise would be kept.

"May my flesh tear apart if, by misfortune, I betrayed," you recited.

During the rest of the last week of classes before the exams, you resumed a much more normal revision routine than the original, much to Sky's delight. You'd revise with her in the afternoons outside class, asking each other questions about the subjects you shared while you were trying not to die laughing from the stupid ways you looked with your facemasks during skincare time.

When Friday came around, you decided to go to the library again. Unconsciously, it had become a ritual. With Viktor or without, you intended to surround yourself with knowledge as immense as possible.

You went and sat down at a table, alone, while many students who had come for the same reason were already crowding most of the available ones. You took out your things, rereading your index cards for the umpteenth time until you were almost ready to recite them by heart if the need arose.

You couldn't help but lose concentration when you heard your name spoken in the distance, coming from voices that weren’t familiar to you, further behind your back.

"And to say Viktor got put with her on Heimerdinger's subject," one said, chuckling.

"I wonder which of them pulls their hair out more in each other's company."

You tried not to think about it, but since, for once, the conversation wasn't all about the walking street lamp, you couldn't help but let your ears hang close to their mouths.

"Did you see her the other day? A vision of the apocalypse. Hollow cheeks and dead eyes like she hadn't eaten in a month."

"Gotta have hollow cheeks to suck the teachers better," her classmate sneered.

Your jaw tightened, trying to ignore their remarks. This wasn't your first time hearing such things - the previous two years hadn't been as gentle as this one, even if Viktor had caused a few problems with his arrival.

"Can you believe what she did to Tyler?"

"She's an animal." They both laughed, causing you to sink back into your chair.

"How do you think Viktor handles her?"

"He doesn't, she's just a handicap to him and he seems to have an embarrassing enough one as it is."

You inhaled. Someone will probably tell them to be quiet so as not to disturb the peace of the library. You hoped.

"Who's a handicap?"

Your eyes widened as you suddenly turned around. Viktor was standing there, facing them, both students suddenly looking very confused and ashamed.

"Viktor," one of them laughed nervously, "this was just a joke, she..."

But the student didn't have time to come up with an excuse. Viktor raised an eyebrow before speaking.

"She's an incredible person who no one can defeat," he informed them, the latter two lowering their eyes on their notes suddenly invested in their revisions. "Except me."

He punctuated his sentence, turning away from them and meeting your gaze. He seemed surprised, not expecting to find you there, at least not doing nothing when such needlessly cruel nonsense was uttered in your name.

Inevitably, of course, he moved towards you.

Except me.  The phrase made you roll your eyes for a moment before you tried to read information from your notes that hadn't needed reading for a long time. 

He sat down opposite you, keeping his hand on the pommel of his cane. "Your name seems to be on everyone's lips, Miss."

"What can I say," you sighed, "the obsession they have for me is an undying addiction."

However, Viktor didn't seem amused at all.

"Why do you let them say such things about you without lifting a finger?"

You bit the inside of your lip, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you as your eyes scanned uselessly over your revision sheets. 

"It's not the first time I've heard that kind of comment about me," you confirmed without much interest, "I'll survive it."

"So you spend most of your time worrying about the injustices other people experience but you push your own under a doormat?" Viktor summed up, not seeming genuinely thrilled at the idea.

"If I could push the injustice that Tyler is by his very existence off the face of this world, I'd be stepping on some rich blonde aristocrat every time I left and returned from home."

But Viktor still wasn't laughing, far from it. When your eyes finally met his, they were dark.

He sighed. "Are you trying to punish yourself for something by neglecting yourself so much?"

I'd like to forget more than anything else in the world. The thought was taking over your soul, eating away at you like a gangrene with an insatiable hunger.

"Of course," you chuckled, exaggerating a falsely happy tone.

"Stop this." His tone was firm.

"Stop what?" you questioned.

"Trying to make something funny out of this."

You frowned, raising an eyebrow. "What? You're not feeling in the mood for our ritual chit chats?"

"Do I look like I'm joking around right now?"

His eyes had the same gleam, carried the same weight as when he'd held you in place in your bed just a week ago. You almost gulped, speechless. Why was he reacting like that? Why was he worried about you?

You lowered your eyes, licking your lips as you returned to your notes.

"Fine," you admitted, dropping your sarcastic tone. "I guess I owe you for saving my life, anyway."

It didn't sound like it, but it was probably the closest you'd come to a ‘thank you’ for him so far. He seemed surprised that you were finally cooperating in the conversation, that you were at last sending him a very subliminal magic word.

His shoulders slumped, as if the idea of being angry with you was stupid.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.

"I'm no longer sick, if that's the question you meant to ask."

"It was, but also," he brought his cane up between his legs, clasping both hands on the pommel as he came to rest his chin on it, "I just wanted to know how you are doing."

Why are you doing this? You were thinking back over the last few weeks. His questions during the power cut, the attention he'd paid to you, staying awake all night by your side to make sure you were taking your medication properly, and now...

"Well," you swallowed, these thoughts unsettling you for a moment and sending a foreign warmth into your belly, "the exams are approaching and I think you've had quite the close look on their effect on me so... yeah."

He considered you, tilting his head to the side until his cheek was the one pressed against the back of his hands. He scanned you, his gaze sending a warm wind up your spine.

"You're still on the treatment, right?"

The horrible powder you had to mix in a glass at least twice a day wasn't the moment you were looking forward to most in your daily routine, but you did it anyway, under Sky's sharp eyes.

You remained silent, just to see how Viktor would react and whether, as he had dictated, he would make sure you stayed in bed no matter what.

Faced with your silence, he raised an eyebrow as he straightened up, finally wrinkling his forehead as he frowned.

"Right?" he repeated, almost menacingly.

"Relax." A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm taking it."

He sighed in relief at the news, while you shook your head in confusion.

"You're putting all this effort... for me? Why"

The phrase sounded alien in your mouth, as if you weren't worth the time or energy of such dedication. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes roving over your index cards.

"You know why."

"Because you can't have your best rival go against you while she's sick?" you recited.

"Because I don't want to be your rival."

You found this answer profoundly absurd.

"What do you mean-" But he cut you off, annoyed.

"What do you want, hmm? To become Heimerdinger's assistant?"

Of course, you thought, but the way Viktor had said it sounded... easy, too easy. Or at least, too easy for you.

"I don't intend to be his assistant, and I'm going to tell you why."

He stood up, walking around the table until he was beside you and leaning in slightly.

"Because I've already been his assistant, and I stopped."

The words echoed inside you, like the cracking of something you thought was indestructible. Your lips parted in shock, watching him with huge eyes as he straightened up.

"In any case. I wanted to make sure that you'd be back in good shape." He began to walk towards the library exit, turning one last time to give you a playful look. "And now that I'm sure you'll be in full shape, I know I don't need to hold back, hm, rival?"

He turned away, heading for the big door, leaving you with a short-circuited brain. What did he mean by "already been"? What did he mean he had stopped? How had Viktor ever been Heimerdinger's assistant?

When the sentence finally reached your mind after a long travel from your ears, you gathered your things in a flash as the questions began to fly and you almost ran to catch up with him. You caught up with him in the corridors, under the astonished gazes of all the students.

"What?" you asked, out of breath from the sudden exertion and the gust of wind the news had knocked from your chest.

He turned to you, slightly surprised that you'd practically chased after him. He'd probably expected you to sit at your table, mulling things over until the questions got too much for you and you decided to come and see him after a day or two of mental torment.

"You've been Heimerdinger's assistant?" you repeated, adjusting the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.

He shrugged, turning away from you. "Yes."

Was he really just going to leave like that? Leaving you in agony for answers you wanted more than anything? No, it wasn't going to be like that.

You grabbed his wrist, much to his surprise, and pulled him with you into an empty adjoining corridor. Once you were out of sight, checking from one end of the corridor to the other to see if anyone was there, you finally regained his gaze.

There was something in his eyes, like a hint of something that kept his lips parted until they closed and his eyes lowered to your hand still gripping his wrist.

You let go, the heat of shame spreading across your neck and cheeks for a moment as you took a step away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"When were you his assistant?"

He leaned against the wall, sighing as he stared at you.

"You do remember Jayce's trial, don't you?"

How could you forget? You hadn't been present at the trial. Selene had invited you to come as it concerned your friend, but you were too afraid of the aristocratic eyes and the pressure they would put on you.

The story remained vague. Due to special circumstances that remained under the security and secrecy of the administration as to the extent of Jayce's activities, he had been allowed to stay at the academy.

"Yes."

"By then, I had already been Heimerdinger’s assistant for a month.."

You now were certain you'd never seen him before. It was just one month into your summer holidays, and you had gone to Zaun to find Eris. Your chances of running into him were almost nil, no doubt about it.

"How did you get to become his assistant?" you quizzed.

He shrugged, and that simple movement made you want to scream. "I suppose he must have liked my assiduity enough to take me on. That and the fact that, with his little legs, I was bound to walk at his pace," he joked.

You held your breath in your lungs for a moment, before releasing it. He didn't seem to be lying, at least about the only serious part of his sentence. He was undoubtedly the best choice for Heimerdinger in any case.

However, it seemed to you that it wasn't so much exasperation that you were feeling - you were trying to understand what the feeling was... a relief, but not really about the fact that the assistant's place was free, no, a relief about Viktor that you couldn't really place at the moment.

"Why did you stop?" There was no longer any frustration in your voice, just a new-found curiosity.

Viktor seemed taken aback by your new intonation, straightening slightly against the wall. "It didn't interest me anymore."

What could he have found that was better? The thought, at last, that Viktor's aim was not to be an assistant for the rest of his life, crept into your mind. Viktor seemed to pick up on it.

"See? I told you we didn't have the same goal."

You finally realised what that feeling of relief was: you didn't have to hate him any more. You no longer had a reason to try to outdo him, no longer had a valid justification for becoming number one again. But why was it such a relief? There was rarely anything more gratuitous than hatred in what you knew, and it should have been the same for Viktor, so why was it such a relief not to have to hate him any more?

Hating him served no purpose, no motivation. It was useless, and what do you do with useless things?

You took half a step towards him.

"The truce you suggested, have you come up with any clauses?"

His eyebrows rose, his eyes widened. He lifted himself off the wall.

"Um no-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Find some, and I'll consider them."

And with that, you took off, leaving Viktor speechless. 

You moved quickly, trying to get home as fast as possible. You were afraid that the street air, so pure and fresh, would wash away your conclusions and fuel a hatred that no longer had any reason to exist.

But you didn't go home straight away, making a diversion to Emeline's shop. As soon as you entered her shop, she didn't hesitate to jump on your neck and give you a hug.

"My little lamb," she enthused as she squeezed you until your ribs broke before cupping your face as if to examine you, "are you feeling better? You gave me quite a fright, you know! When your friend came to visit me and told me you were ill I nearly closed up shop to come and see you myself."

"Everything's fine," you laughed, squeezing her arms, "I've almost completely recovered!"

You'd decided that, after your chat with Viktor and all the effort you'd put into your revision, you deserved a little something to comfort you.

After a little chat with Emeline, she packed two pastries, one for you and one for Sky. Of course, she didn't forget to fill you up with an extra small packet of sweets that would have gone unsold during the day.

When you returned home, you greeted Sky with a smile and raised the two bags of treats to your head. She smiled in surprise.

"To what do we owe this feast?" she asked.

You shrugged. "Let's just say I've made resolutions for the better."

You'd been laughing all evening, stuffing your faces with these delicacies as you both took a well-deserved break from studying.

Your eyes turned to your tarot deck, you'd forgotten to draw any cards lately due to your revisions, so after wiping your hands full of sugar, you took the pack in hand.

“I see you pulling one almost every morning,” Sky remarked, lying on her stomach on your bed while you were cross-legged. “Why do you do that?”

You pulled out your cards in your hands. “To have a leitmotif to follow during the day. Although to be quite honest I don't follow their advice every time.”

She laughed softly, knowing by now your stubbornness like no other. “That doesn't surprise me at all.”

“Yeah well,” you smiled in turn as you shuffled the cards, ”some of them are not the best cards to wake up on to in the morning.”

So you cut your deck as usual, and looked at its underside. You raised your eyebrows.

“Just like this one.”

You showed Sky the card: Death.

She winced, her eyebrows furrowing as her mouth formed as if she were pronouncing the letter x.

“Okay, I get it,” she said, shaking her head. “Is it literal? I hope not, right?”

“Nah it's pretty safe.” You laughed. “The description of its meaning is in the little booklet.” You pointed to it with your chin, and Sky grabbed it, flipping through until she found the Death page.

“Transition. Underworld. Flux. Occultism. Letting go. Evolution requiring liberation. Metaphorical death.” She read. “Off to a great start apparently.”

You chuckled, observing the card as she continued reading. “Death moves across a field with a slow, steady march. A king lies dead. He represents the old systems of order cast aside. A bishop begs for mercy, a young girl turns away in fear and only a curious little girl looks up to greet death. She has not been taught to fear it.”

Your thumb passed over the little girl's drawing, your heart clenching. 

“A ship sails away, heedless of death's march. A sun rises between two towers to reflect resurrection and new beginnings. All endings give way to new possibilities. Transformation leads to renewal and growth.” She raised her eyebrows. “Ain't as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Yeah,” you considered, thinking back on your day and the fact that the cards were pointing you in the right direction, ”indeed.”

Exam week was over. You'd had absolutely no trouble at all with any of the exercises. All the subjects were in the bag and you were finishing virtually ahead of schedule in every exam room.

Today was the day of results. The teachers had spent the weekend correcting everything, and the results boards had finally been displayed.

You woke up feeling lighter than you thought you would. Since realizing that there was no longer any point in chasing Viktor to victory, you'd relaxed.

You went down the hall with Sky, passing the student mailboxes for a moment so you could check if either of you had received anything.

You opened the metal door to a single letter, sealed with a metallic black wax seal you knew all too well: Eris.

You took the key to your apartment, using its teeth to open the envelope and take out the letter, which you brought to your nose.

Her letters always smelled of the essential oils and herbs that constantly appeased you. Without further ado, you unfolded the paper and read its contents.

My sweet friend,

I thought you were a lost cause in friendship, but I guess this year the wheel is really turning on your side. I'm delighted, and I imagine the same goes for Selene. I'd love to meet her, that Sky, she sounds absolutely charming. I'm guessing, though, that the day with your Five of Wands must have been no picnic, especially if - from what I understand - Emperor Viktor is to blame. But I'm sure that the Immeasurable Grandeur of the Prestigious Piltover Academy will crown your success.

You giggled to yourself as your eyes passed over the elegant, forced curves that Eris had taken care to add in response to your own inky bows.

I miss you so much. You know how the days are here in Zaun; I open, sell and consult, and close in the evening before any trouble starts. I'm paid with golden trinkets, new flowers to dry and other plants from other regions. I have managed to get some new customers, though, and not the least important ones. Renata Glasc herself has been to my shop.

You'd already heard of Renata Glasc, an ambitious woman who was growing in influence on the streets of Zaun. She wasn't a Chem Baroness, but at the rate she was going, it looked like she was well on her way to becoming one.

In fact, it's through her that I'm hearing about worrying things here. Common for Zaun, you may say, but I can't help thinking the worst. I'll tell you about it myself when we meet. I'm planning to come here around December 23, so let's meet at the usual bridge at three o'clock. I'll be staying with you for a few days. I can't tell you more. But I've lit a candle for you, wishing you success and good health.

I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest trouble,

Eris.

What could she possibly be worried about? The situation was invariably complicated in Zaun, but what could it be that she was worried about?

You carefully tucked the letter into your bag, heading out to the shuttle stop.

“Not too stressed?” Sky asked.

You huffed, a cloud of warmth rising into the air. The cold had been gaining in intensity for over a week, and all the students at the academy had donned their scarves.

“No.” you replied, confident. “You?”

“A bit,” she admitted, her breath trembling slightly.

“Hey,” you pressed your shoulder against hers as she turned to face you, ”you've got this. I know you do.”

She nodded, smiling at you as the shuttle arrived. The journey was swift, some students over-excited at the prospect of their results, others apprehensive about what was to come.

As you arrived at the golden gates of the academy, you noticed that neither Viktor nor Jayce were in sight. Perhaps they had decided to go to the academy later?

The group of students walked up to the scoreboards, an army of others already huddled in front of them.

Sky went in search of her name, while you breathed in, waiting for other students to pass before you.

You didn't know what awaited you at the top of the board, which name would be at the head. Did it still matter? Yes, it probably did, or it didn't. Did you want it to matter? Probably not. But did your mind keep wandering? Endlessly.

What if Viktor was still number one - would you be disappointed? What if you were number one - would you be satisfied? And if neither he nor you were number one, would you be revolted?

“Look who it is!”

That voice alone was enough to make you frown, raise your eyebrows and lower your eyelids in boredom.

Tyler.

You turned to him for a moment, him seeming pleased that you responded to his voice as you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“What do you want, blondie? Searching for a new name on the boards to torment?”

He chuckled, stepping toward you. “You don't change a winning team, darling. Have you found your place at the very bottom of the ranking?”

It was your turn to chuckle, turning to face him. He had no idea about your academic results, it seemed. 

“Tyler you have as many neurons as you have eyes, and they're both fighting for any kind of connection.” You turned to the bulletin board, stepping forward slightly. “Do them mercy and close your eyelids for all eternity before we have to deal with a rain of fire and the horsemen and...”

But you didn't even finish your sentence, the words dying on your lips as your eyes came to rest on your name.

First place.

You were back in first place. Eyes and mouth wide open, you kept blinking to make sure your vision wasn't failing you. And the name underneath... 

Viktor.

Your scores were almost equal, yours barely beating him.

“Told you I wasn't going to hold back.”

You turned towards the voice, the tinkle you now knew too well of his cane echoing on the floor. He stood there, serene, a small smile on his face before his lips pressed into an inverted grin and his eyebrows raised.

“You fight well, Miss.”

You couldn't help it - you cracked a smile at him. And Viktor seemed astonished, as if he'd never seen such a thing happen. No stupid remark, no pettiness behind your drawn lips, just sincere amusement and joy.

“What the...” Tyler's voice died in his throat as he took in the bulletin boards, turning to you. “How did you...”

You turned to him, his sole presence now not even enough to ruin your happiness and relief. “As if you could reach me,” you replied with a triumphant smile, walking out of the crowd to join Viktor.

Once you got away from all this tumult, he nodded. “You got first,” he remarked, “congratulations.”

You observed him for a second, his posture reflecting a sort of disappointment. Was it from losing? Or was it from the fact you seemed so happy in your rivalry with him? You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Quit it,” you pronounced with a smile, shaking your head slightly. “We share this crown, and you perfectly know that.”

He said nothing, just gazing at you for a moment. There was this gleam, the tickling of a smile ready to be born on his lips as the satisfaction that, maybe, these ink duels you were both fencing would wash away and let something different be born from them. 

He was apprehensive about saying something, but Jayce came towards you both.

“Ah, Jayce, exams went well?” You asked, knowing without a doubt that he didn't have to worry about his results.

“Oh yeah, perfect.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting from yours to Viktor's, surprised that you weren't quarrelling. “Say, hum... can I talk to you guys for a minute?” 

Viktor and you exchanged a confused look, before ultimately following him.

“A masquerade?” you repeated, as if the word had never grazed your lips before.

Jayce had brought you to a room in the Academy where you could all talk without hearing the multiple cries of students as to their result. And considering what he had to discuss with you, he'd done the right thing.

“It's this thing Mel is invited to,” he explained nervously. “All the people of high aristocracy will be there, counselors, lords and ladies... Please, can you both accompany me to it?”

“As your dance partners?” joked Viktor, frowning.

“No, Mel's already my partner. But, she said that there would be no opposition for you both to come as well. You're the,” he seemed to search for words for a moment, ”croom dé la cram?”

“Crême de la crême?” you suggested.

He pointed at you, glad you understood. “Yeah, that. La crême de la crême of the Academy. Such prestigious students as the both of you sharing the top of the board deserve to be in such an event.”

“So you want us,” you pointed repeatedly between Viktor and yourself, ”to come to this event because you're too nervous to go there by yourself?”

The interested party scratched the back of his neck, sniffling before looking at you both with puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah?”

“Aren't you supposed to have a partner to come to a masquerade?” Interrogated Viktor.

“I thought you two could... go together?”

You chuckled, your mouth hanging open. You exchanged a bewildered look with Viktor, who didn't seem to be too upset by the concept.

“You're joking, right?” you asked.

“Please just-” he didn't finish his sentence, “put your bickering aside for one evening. You don't even have to show up together if it suits you better.”

“I don't see any problems with it,” Viktor shrugged, indifferent. “When is it?”

"Tomorrow night."

“Tomorrow night?” You exclaimed. “Jayce, if it's a society gala, I've got nothing to wear.”

He reached into his own wallet, pulled out some bills and handed them to you.

“Here, I'm sure you'll find something convenient with this.”

“Jayce,” you remarked, looking at the fresh bills, “what the hell.”

“This is not much for you to get a decent gown for the gala. Keep the rest, if there is any, to get some fancy accessories.” He grabbed your hand, placing the cash in it. “Truly, this is the least I can do.”

You knew Jayce's patrons were the Kiramman’s, but to have money to give away like this? Since when was that the case?

“Vik, I think it's time for us to go.” Jayce finally remarked before leaving the room, leaving the two of you.

You both stayed in silence for a moment, both digesting the information that had just been given to you.

“What a way to celebrate your victory,” Viktor finally sighed.

“I've seen worse celebrations than a masquerade,” you remarked, observing the tickets for a moment before folding them up, “but I think I've had better experiences than being in a room with nobility sipping glasses of champagne with petty innuendo in every exchange.”

He huffed in turn. “I suppose the next area in which we must excel in no time is the art of conversation in high society. Although, considering our usual conversation,” he leaned his head to the side with a smirk, "we'll fit right in."

“How exciting,” you raised your eyebrows sarcastically, letting silence take its rule back on the room before you finally decided to break it. ”Guess I better go and find myself something to wear. See you tomorrow, Viktor.” 

“Wait,” he called to you, seeming hesitant about what he was going to suggest, ”would you like us to get together first and go? Or...”

“Let's meet directly at the party,” you assured him.

He nodded, his lips pressing in a thin line as you turned away. “Oh and...” you turned back to him at his words, his eyes piercing. “Don't forget the mask.”

You nodded, leaving the room.

You had today and tomorrow to find an outfit, and get used to the fact that Viktor was no longer a threat to be eliminated. Easier said than done. 

But still… What a way to celebrate a rebirth.

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 1

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Tags: Intro, bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader

Summery: Meeting your new bodyguards doesn't go as smoothly as everyone hoped..

‘I don’t need a group of bodyguards,’ you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Your manager Yoona doesn’t even look at you anymore and you fight the urge to stamp your feet like a little child to get her attention. You won’t stoop that low though, so instead you place your hands on your hips and glare at the woman who’s been by your side since you debuted about two years ago. 

‘We’re not having this discussion again, y/n,’ Yoona says, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. ‘Your popularity is growing by the day, you’ve received multiple death threats in the last few months and in case you forgot, last week someone tried to break into your home.’ 

Your shoulders deflate and your hands fall down beside your body. You can’t really argue with that, but you’ve grown so accustomed to having Faris at your side as your one and only bodyguard, that the thought of eight men taking his place makes you shiver. Who the hell needed eight freaking bodyguards? You weren’t a princess for fuck’s sake. 

Yoona finally looks at you then. ‘It’s very important to us to keep you safe, darling. I know it will be an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.’ 

‘But eight?’ you argue, trying once more. ‘Do I really need eight men following my every move?’ 

‘That’s why we’re placing some of them around you with other jobs as well, kind of like undercover bodyguards,’ Yoona smiles at you like that makes it any better. 

You slump down in the chair across from Yoona and frown at her. What could bodyguards possibly go undercover as in your team? Woman, sure, no problem, but a muscled man? They’d stand out immediately. 

‘What do you mean?’ you ask carefully, not sure if you even want to know. 

‘They all have multiple skill sets, but we decided on adding three of them as your dancers and one will probably step in as a personal assistant of sorts,’ Yoona explains, her eyes once more on her phone screen. 

‘Why?’ you blurt out. ‘I don’t even need new dancers? We’re not firing anyone are we?’ 

You were perfectly happy with your team as it was and it would kill you to let any of them go because Yoona decided you needed eight freaking men to watch you. 

Yoona sighed and put down her phone. ‘We’re not firing anyone, but Dohyun is still recovering from his injury and Ju-won has asked for a few months off to visit his family. As for why, it will allow them to be around you more casually.’ 

Damnit. That actually made sense. 

‘And you’re sure they can dance?’ you ask, already knowing the answer. Yoona would never suggest something like this if they couldn’t. 

‘Yes, y/n, they can dance. I think you’ll be impressed actually.’ 

That makes you curious. Yoona isn’t easily impressed, so if she thinks you’ll approve, they must be good. Maybe you should give them a chance, or just be such a brat they run away screaming. 

‘Fine,’ you sigh. ‘When will I meet them?’ 

Yoona looks at her watch and your eyes widen at the movement. She wouldn’t do this to you, would she? 

‘They’ll be here in an hour to meet you,’ Yoona says and you let out a relieved breath. ‘You better be back here by then or I will let one of them drag you here by your ear.’ 

‘Bossy much,’ you whisper, but you don’t really mean it. You luckily have a very good relationship with your manager and even though she drives you up a wall sometimes, you know she has your best interest at heart. 

Yoona rolls her eyes at you and waves her hand at the door. ‘Go be bratty somewhere else, I’ll see you in an hour.’ 

You bark out a laugh and jump up from the chair. ‘As you wish, my Queen,’ you say, doing a little courtesy. 

Your current bodyguard Faris is waiting for you in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face as he spots you. 

‘Good talk?’ he asks, following one step behind you. 

‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

‘I’m the one who recommended them actually,’ Faris says and only his quick reflexes stop him from walking straight into your back as you stop walking immediately at his words. 

‘What?’ you turn around to frown at him. ‘Why would you do that to me?’ 

Faris raises his eyebrows and stares down at you with a knowing look, his arms crossing over his chest. 

‘Fine,’ you roll your eyes at him. ‘I know why, Yoona was so kind to remind me, but I still don’t get why it has to be eight.’ 

‘It might seem excessive to you Nabi,’ Faris says, addressing you with your stage name which he knows usually softens you. ‘But you don’t see all that we see and trust me when I say that once you’re on tour, you’ll be happy to have them by your side. It gets crazy out there.’ 

‘I know that, but undercover bodyguards?’ you make a face. ‘I’m not royalty.’ 

Faris chuckles and with a gentle push on your shoulder, he guides you further through the hallway and towards the studio you were working at before Yoona called you to her office. It was one of the things you really liked about your agency. Nearly everything you needed was in the same building. 

‘You may as well be and I trust Chan and his guys to keep you safe,’ Faris says as he holds a door open for you. 

‘So you really know them?’ you ask, sitting down at the desk you were working at before. Your laptop is still open on the editing program you work with and there are multiple notebooks, paper coffee cups and empty candy wrappers spread all around it. ‘Did you work with them before?’ 

‘I trained 3RACHA actually,’ Faris nods. ‘Chan and I had multiple gigs together after that and I’ve only heard good things about the others as well. I’m confident I’m leaving you in good hands.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be leaving me at all,’ you groan, throwing your head back against your chair. ‘But I understand and I hope that when I have a husband one day, he'll do the same for me.’ 

Faris just smiles at that and gets comfortable on the couch facing the door. He knows better than to get into this conversation with you again. Last time you ended up facetiming his wife in tears and he ended up having to calm down two crying women. 

‘Wait, did you just say sriracha?’ you sit up in your chair when your brain suddenly realizes what he had just said. ‘As in the hot sauce?’

‘No, I said 3RACHA, that’s what they called themselves back then,’ Faris replies, glancing at you. ‘I think they made music together in their free time, before they started their own company.’ 

Huh. Interesting. Why on earth would they go from making music together to becoming bodyguards? 

‘So all eight of them made music together?’ you ask curiously. 

‘No, just Chan, Jisung and Changbin. I think they mostly rapped, but if you’re interested in knowing more, you can always ask. It could break the ice when you meet them,’ Faris suggests, winking at you. 

‘I’ll pass, I don’t want them to think I’m happy about this arrangement,’ you murmur, turning your chair so your back is to Faris. ‘Will you tell me when it’s time to go?’ 

‘Don’t I always?’ he chuckles. 

You flip him off without looking and put on your headphones. Time to edit some more music. 

****

You’re so engrossed in your music, that it takes Faris multiple tries to get you to put down your headphones. He even goes as far as opening the blinds to let the light in, making you whimper and flinch by the intrusion of it. 

‘Alright, alright,’ you yell, your eyes scrunched close. ‘I beg for mercy, I’ll come with you.’ 

Faris laughs and closes the blinds, once again developing the room in darkness, just how you like it. He has scolded you many times before about how bad it is for your eyes to squint at your screen in a dark room, but you rarely listen to him about it. 

‘If you think about telling my new watch dogs this trick of yours, I’ll haunt you,’ you warn Faris when the two of you walk towards Yoona’s office. 

Faris makes a movement with his hands as if he’s zipping his lips closed and you nod happily at him, trusting him to keep his word. 

‘How late are we?’ you ask, having forgotten your phone in the studio when Faris basically dragged you out by your arm. 

‘About five minutes too early,’ he smiles proudly. 

Of fucking course. He’s been working with you for two years so he knows all your annoying traits by now, including having a habit of being late because you simply forget the time when you’re working. 

‘What will I do without you,’ you pout at him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach as you near Yoona’s office. 

‘You’ll be just fine, Nabi,’ Faris says and you’re not sure if he means it as a reply to what you just said or as a reassurance before meeting your new team of bodyguards. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn towards Faris. ‘How do I look?’ 

‘I thought you didn’t care?’ he grins, but he reaches out to flatten a few wild strands of your hair. 

You blow him a kiss, put on a straight face and turn around to knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing you’re greeted with is the silhouette of 4 men standing with their back to you. Each of them have broad muscular shoulders that are clearly visible under the black suit jacket they’re wearing, the fabric straining like they’re wearing a size too small. 

The man on the right turns around when you enter and you nearly gasp at his beauty. His hair is styled to show a little v of his forehead and the black strands nearly reach his eyes. Jesus. He could be a model if he wanted too. He raises his eyebrows at you when you just stare at him for a moment, before he nudges the man next to him. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me,’ you mutter under your breathe when the other man turns around and piercing eyes meet yours. 

Of course he’s beautiful as well. What the hell was Yoona thinking? 

‘Ah, Y/N, there you are,’ Yoona says when she notices you. ‘On time, even.’ 

You roll your eyes and stroll forward to her desk, ignoring the four men as you make your way around them. In that little moment you forget there’s supposed to be more of them and when you turn to stand next to Yoona and see the chairs in front of her desk filled with four more gorgeous men, you nearly stumble. 

Yoona grins at you and you narrow your eyes at the woman. 

‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ you grumble at her. ‘Where did you even find them? heaven?’ 

One of the men snorts before trying to cover it up with a cough. 

‘Don’t mind her gentleman, she’s in a mood today,’ Yoona smiles. 

‘I wonder why,’ you mutter, sending a fake smile in the direction of the bodyguards. 

‘That’s alright, it must be a lot to take in,’ one of them says with such a deep voice that your eyes widen. 

It must look comical, cause the same man that snorted earlier, lets out a giggle. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, it’s how everyone reacts to first hearing Felix’s voice,’ 

You want to focus on him calling you Miss, but the urge to see which face belongs to the deep voice is stronger.

‘Who’s Felix?’ you ask, your eyes searching the men in front of you. 

‘I am,’ the only blonde man of the group says, lifting his hand to show you where he is. He’s absolutely stunning with freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. 

‘Holy shit, is that your real voice?’ you ask without thinking, slapping your hand in front of your mouth as soon as the words come out. 

He laughs and a few of the other men chuckle as well. 

‘It is, sometimes it gets even deeper,’ he says. 

‘Yeah, Lix actually has like three different voices,’ the man who called you Miss grins. 

It’s getting annoying not to know his name, but you don’t want to ask and seem interested. Luckily one of the men at the back seems to read your mind somehow. 

‘Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, my name is Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan. I’m the leader and head of your security team as of now. So if you experience any problems with our service in any way, I’m the one you can come to.’ 

‘Noted,’ you mumble, ignoring Yoona’s glare at your rudeness. 

So that’s Chan. Faris forgot to mention how beautiful his trainee was and you were so going to punch his arm for that later. 

‘I’m Lee Minho,’ the one with the piercing stare says. ‘I’ll be joining your dance team.’ 

Fuck. Of course he is. 

‘So will I,’ Felix smiles. ‘Lee Felix.’

‘And me, Hwang Hyunjin,’ the man closest to you winks. 

Great. They were absolutely going to kill you. In more ways than one. 

Biting your lip you wait for the last four to introduce themselves and pray to all the gods that Miss guy is going to be your assistant. He already feels like the most easy going out of all eight and if you need to work with one of them closely, you’d rather it be him than anyone else. 

‘Kim Seungmin, I’ll be one of your bodyguards’ the one who noticed you first says, his eyes flicking up and down your body as if he’s calculating how much of a flight risk you are. 

Oh just you wait and see buddy. 

‘I’m Yang Jeongin, but you can call me Innie or Ayen,’ the very cute man in front of Seungmin smiles and you nearly smile back at him. 

Finally the man you’ve been waiting for speaks up. ‘I’m Han Jisung, your new assistant.’ 

You cheer in your head, keeping a straight face as you look at the last man. He’s definitely the most buff of them all, his biceps really testing the fabric of his suit jacket. 

‘And I’m Seo Changbin, also part of your daily bodyguard squad.’ 

‘You’re all way too beautiful to be bodyguards,’ you say, crossing your arms with a frown while tapping your foot on the ground. 

Yoona makes a noise beside you and you don’t dare to look at her. She’ll definitely lecture you later, but this is all on her anyways. 

‘Worried your fans will fawn over us?’ Jisung jokes, winking at you. 

Your lips tip up in a tiny smile, but you quickly straighten your face. It was going to be hard to be a brat to them, but you were nothing if you weren’t stubborn. You’re not going to just warm up to them because they were hot and funny. Nope. Not going to happen. 

‘More like you’d be too busy worrying about your good looks to protect me,’ you say, raising your eyebrows at them. 

‘Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,’ Minho grumbles, placing his hand on Jisung’s shoulder as if to comfort him. ‘You won’t have to worry about that, looking this good doesn’t cost us much.’

You open your mouth to reply, but Yoona gets up and goes to stand next to you. 

‘That’s enough Y/N,’ she hisses before smiling her million dollar smile to the men. ‘As you can see Y/N hasn’t really warmed up to the idea of having this many eyes on her all the time.’ 

‘Don’t you have that all the time though,’ Seungmin says directly to you. 

You glare at him. ‘That’s not the same. 

He just shrugs. ‘We don’t want anything from you like your fans or stalkers. We’re not here to be your friends, we’re just here to keep you safe. That’s all that should matter.’ 

His words hit you harder than they should and you can’t help but flinch. The idol life isn't great for maintaining friendships and since you weren’t in a group, the only people you really had around you to talk to were your bodyguard Faris, Yoona and your dancers. You didn’t have a best friend, or even really friends in general, not since high school ended. 

‘Min!’ Chan calls out, glaring at the man. 

You square your shoulders and tilt your head, putting another fake smile on your face. ‘It’s fine, he’s right isn’t he.’ 

‘No, he’s not,’ Chan shakes his head. ‘Listen-’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you repeat, interrupting him. ‘How about I’ll show Jisung his office and we can go over the schedule for next week?’ 

Chan frowns down at you, sharing a look with Jisung and Yoona, but then he nods. You give him a nod back in thanks and without looking at any of the other guys you make a beeline for the door, hoping Jisung will follow you. 

‘Well, that went great,’ you hear someone say before you step outside. 

Faris frowns when he sees the look on your face, but he doesn’t say anything and falls into step behind you like he always does. It’s one of the things you love about him, he always knows when to not ask questions. You can hear him and Jisung quietly talking behind you, but you don’t mind, they know each other after all. 

‘Well, here we are,’ you say, opening the door of the small office area next to the studio you usually work at. ‘You can arrange everything how you like and if you need anything you can ask Yoona.’ 

‘I wasn’t expecting an office,’ Jisung smiles at you, stepping inside the room to take a look. 

It’s not much. Just a desk with a comfortable chair and a computer, a two person couch and in the corner there’s a bookcase that so far only houses a cactus, your first three albums and a box with documents your last assistant left behind. 

‘Of course you get an office, can’t have you shacking up with me in the studio,’ you say, trying to joke with him. 

‘Hey, about what Seungmin said,’ Jisung starts, sitting down in his desk chair and twirling around. ‘He’s just very serious about his job, he didn’t really mean the part about us not being your friends.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you shrug. ‘You’re not really meant to be my friends anyways, you’re hired to protect me.’ 

‘Yeah, you don’t look too happy about that. Why is that?’ Jisung asks and he sounds genuinely curious. ‘I mean, sure we’re a whole lot, but isn’t it nice to know you’ll be safe?’ 

‘Safe? Yes. Watched by eight, I repeat, eight men? No thank you, I don’t need that.’ 

Jisung tilts his head and purses his lips in thought, like he’s actually trying to see this from your side. ‘I get it, I do, I’ve lived with most of them for the last few years and like I said, we can be a lot.’ 

‘But?’ you ask, falling down on the couch in front of Jisung’s new desk. ‘I feel there’s a but there.’ 

‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Jisung leans his chin on his palm as he looks at you. ‘We’ve seen the threats Y/N, we’ve seen the video’s of handsy fans, we’ve seen the footage of that dude trying to break into your house. It’s a miracle really that nothing has happened to you so far with only Faris by your side.’ 

‘He’s right, Nabi,’ Faris says from his spot by the door. 

‘Okay, maybe more than one bodyguard would be better,’ you say slowly. ‘But eight? I still think it’s a bit much, especially the undercover bit.’ 

Jisung shrugs and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe so, but at least you’ll know you will be safe.’ 

‘I guess,’ you mumble. 

‘Wanna go over the schedule for next week with me?’ Jisung asks. ‘Get your mind off all this for a bit?’ 

You jump up from the couch immediately and walk around the desk to stand next to him while he starts up the computer. 

****

About half an hour later you’re fairly confident Jisung will make a good assistant. He’s written down your interviews and gigs for the coming month and made a list of all the things he wanted to take care of before that. It was cute how he wanted to do it right. 

‘Knock, knock,’ a voice called out from the door and when you looked up you saw Chan and Changbin hugging Faris. 

‘How’s it going here?’ Chan smiles at you as he walks inside, his hands in his pocket. He probably tried to come off less intimidating like that, but it didn’t really work. 

‘Fine,’ you say, looking at the computer screen again. 

If you kept your eyes on him you’d probably drool all over your favorite studio outfit. That man was way too fine. 

‘It’s going great, Channie,’ Jisung says. ‘We’ve been getting along perfectly without the ice kings here.’ 

‘Don’t let them hear you call them that,’ Chan chuckles, moving to sit on the couch. ‘I hope we’ll be able to make this work, Y/N. I take great pride in my work and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel comfortable around us.’ 

Ugh. Why did he have to be so kind too? 

‘Thank you,’ you mutter, your eyes still on the screen. 

‘We’ll promise not to impose your privacy too much when we move in, but–’ 

Your head snaps up to look at him then and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jisung covering his face with his hands. 

‘What did you just say?’ you ask, standing up. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say the words moving in?’ 

‘Uhm,’ Chan tilts his head in confusion. ‘I thought you knew?’ 

‘Knew. What?’ you growl, your fingers balling up in fists. 

‘Oh boy,’ Jisung whispers and you turn to glare at him. 

‘You knew about this?’ 

‘Uhm, we all did? And we figured so would you,’ he shrugs, looking at you with big innocent eyes. 

You close your eyes, not at all immune to those brown doe eyes. If you keep looking at him you will stop being angry and you can’t do that. Not now. 

‘If somebody doesn’t tell me very soon what exactly this thing I’m supposed to know is, I will scream,’ you clench your jaw and take a shaky breath. 

This can’t be happening. They are not moving into your house with you. Yoona won’t do that to you, not after your talk this morning. Right? You close your eyes in frustration, already knowing the answer to your own question. She will. 

‘Such a drama queen,’ a new voice speaks up from the door and when you turn your head, already seeing red, you see Minho smirking at you. 

Changbin and Faris look concerned and when you look back at Chan, he actually looks like he’s pitying you. Fuck. 

‘Just say it already.’

‘Well, we’re supposed to move into your new house with you,’ Chan says, confirming it. 

Oh hell no. 

a/n: eeeeeeekkk I'm so excited for this series you have no idea!! I wasn't going to upload till tomorrow, but @staylovesmiley made me flip a coin and here I am at midnight, feeding you the first chapter.

Please let me know your thoughts <3

taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @hannahisnotblue @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[hamptersadness]

As a teacher it pisses me off.

The students that are killed in school shootings haven't lived a full life. Some don't even know what algebra is.

The CEO has lived a full(er) life. He's not some kid who wants to play lightsaber cat battle in the front yard.

The real act of terrorism is the government saying that a CEOs life is more important than

16 6 year olds

4 7 year olds

6 teachers

Who were all killed in the Sandy Hook Massacre.

My sister is 6. And right now shes worrying about how many presents she's going to get for christmas. She should not worry about how to hide from a fucking gunman in her school.

Those numbers mean the world to me and yet they mean jack shit to the federal government.

My students should not worry for their life or their teacher's life or their friends lives. They should be worrying about their grades, or what they are going to play at recess or whether they'll get candy today.

Source

I shouldn't have to tag this as teacher problems

When you kill a healthcare ceo, it’s terrorism. When someone shoots your kid in elementary school, it’s thoughts and prayers for like a week and then they move on. It truly shows the fact that terrorism is whatever the american government wants it to mean.

[murdockcastleslut]

meddle about

an outerbanks band au! | a jj maybank and rafe cameron smau

synopsis: after competing and winning the battle of the bands, the sirens were offered a record deal, launching them into stardom. when they are about to go on their first world tour, the band is faced with the decision of who they will open for them. they choose the swell, their runner-up in the battle of bands two years prior. with a rocky past with some members of the swell, y/n, the leader singer of the sirens, must tread carefully not cause anymore problems during this choatic tour.

intros | prologue | part one

tw: mentions of depression, anxiety, adhd, addiction, child abuse (emotionally and mentally), alcohol, weed, cocaine, homophobia, and sex.

word count: 2.1k

author's note: finals week kicked my ass but we slay and i put out a new chapter of something finally

thursday, august 15th, 2024

You took one last puff from your cigarette before throwing it down to the ground and smothering it with your sneaker. You let out a loud sigh before grabbing the handle of the door and walking back into the first stop of The Lie to Girls Tour. 

As you walk in you notice how the venue has come to life with roadies sending everything up for later that night. You start walking towards your dressing room when someone calls out your name. 

You turn my head and see Ward Cameron making a B-line for me. You roll my eyes and stop in front of him. 

“What do you want, Ward?” You ask the manager of The Swell and Sarah’s father. 

He gives you a sneer and folds his arms to assert dominance over you. 

“Where is Sarah?” He asks with a stern look on his face. 

I let out a chuckle. 

“I don’t know where she is, Ward, but I can be damn sure she doesn’t wanna talk to you.” You say before walking away from the older man. 

You walk towards your dressing room and look around yourself diligently hoping you don’t see him. You make it to your dressing room and open the door to see Sarah getting her hair done by the band’s hair stylist, Aubree, and Cleo getting her make-up done by the band’s make-up artist, Kimora. You walk in, letting the door close behind you, and go straight for the couch that Kie is sitting on and lay your head on her lap.

“Your dad’s a dick, Sarah,” I say with my eyes closed enjoying the atmosphere of the room. Kite lets out a muted snort. 

“I know he is, but what did he do now?” She asks, twisting to look behind her at you on the couch. 

“Nothin, just asked where you were. But I guess he didn’t even bother to look because anyone else could have told him that you were here.” 

“Did you tell him where I was ?”

“Fuck no, that would mean I would have to spend five minutes walking with him here. I would rather spend the night in whatever torture chamber Satan's got prepared for that man.” 

The whole room laughs but you. You weren’t joking, you were serious. 

“How’d you even bump into him girlie?” Cleo asks? 

“Went for a smoke out on the side.” You reply nonchalantly. 

Everyone in the room this time groans. 

“I don’t like this judgment I’m getting from everyone. I hardly smoke cigs anymore! We are Texas and I’m not tryna get arrested before we have even gotten on stage.” I defend. 

“I guess that’s acceptable,” Kie says, tapping your nose. 

You scrunch your face at her. 

“So how are you girls feeling? The first night of your basically sold-out tour.” Aubree asks as she finishes the final curls on Sarah’s hair. 

“So excited, man. I have a good feeling about tonight.” Cleo smiles. 

“Oh my god, knock on wood right now, Cleo! You’re gonna jinx us!” You exclaim sitting up from Kie’s lap. 

“I don't think it’s…”

“I swear to god, you better knock.” 

Cleo doesn’t say anything but rolls her eyes and knocks on the ledge of the vanity in front of her. 

Kie looks at you and sighs. 

“Babe I mean this in the nicest way possible, did you take your meds today?” She questions. 

“Yes, I did.” You roll your eyes at her question. 

“So excited and nervous.” Aubree takes it away. 

“She’s just nervous about interacting with JJ.” Sarah spills.

“What the fuck! No, I am not! I could care less what the dipshit thinks.” You refute. 

Just as you finish, the band stylist, Jess, walks into the dressing room holding everyone’s outfit. 

“So you didn’t text me saying you literally have to look sexier than sexy this whole tour to show JJ he’s an idiot.” Jess chimes in.

You let out a loud groan. 

“Damn it, Jess. You just fucked my whole I don’t care vibe.” You whine. 

Everyone lets out a chuckle at your reaction. 

“Well, I’ll have you know that the outfit I picked up is killer.” Jess smiles. 

“Lemme see!” You sit up excited like a child at Christmas. 

She puts all the outfits on the rack and pulls out yours. 

Everyone in the room, oohs and ahhs. 

“Oh Jess, you are a magic baby!” You laugh. 

She smiles and shakes her head and walks over to you to give you the hanger. 

“Get changed, I wanna see how it looks on you.” She demands. 

“Yes, ma’am.” You smile and get up off the couch. You go behind the divider and get undressed and put on the outfit that she had chosen for you. 

You get changed into a faux leather corset and a black faux leather skirt. 

When you step out from behind the divider, everyone in the room whoops and whistles. 

“Get in my chair now,” Aubree exclaims. “I have the best idea.” 

You giggle and nod excited to see what she had in store for your hair. As Aubree works on your hair, Kimora starts on your make-up. 

The room is filled with laughter, music, and singing. Aubree is done with your hair pulled into a slick back 90’s spiky bun when there’s a knock on the door. She gives your hair one more spritz of hairspray before going to grab the door. 

When she opens the door, the once loud and obvious room is now dead silent. JJ Maybank is standing in front of the door. 

He looks around uneasily and then looks at you. He is in awe of the way you look. 

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Aubree sneers at him in an unkind tone. 

“Uh-uh i-uh..” He keeps staring at you. 

“Yo pervert, either say something or get out.” Kimora scolds him.

“Yeah- uh sorry,” he keeps his eyes on you. “Ward sent me to get you, says Minerva is looking for you.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. What the fuck? You think to yourself. 

“Anything else?” Kimora questions, their tone suggesting he’d leave. 

“He said I had to walk you there…” He hesitates. 

“She’ll be out in a minute.” She says before shutting the door in his face.

You turn to the other girls with your eyes widened in confusion. They all shrug at you not knowing what is going on. You look at Sarah and mouth Your dad’s a dick. She sighs heavily and nods. 

You look around the floor and put on your Doc Martens. 

“Fucking bastard.” You mumble to yourself about Ward before opening the door. 

You look at JJ with a sneer and wait for him to lead you to Minnie. 

“So uh- I’m…” He stutters out and you cut him off with a glare. 

The rest of the way to Minnie was silent. He did not try to utter another word to you. 

When you find her, she is surrounded by roadies asking her questions about the final touches on the venue. 

When she sees you and JJ together she gives you a strained smile. She knows that this is not a situation you want to be in. 

“Thank you, Jackson. You can leave us.” She says coldly and wraps her arm around your shoulder. You giggle when she calls him his legal name and wrap your arm around her waist. 

“You look like a good kid, everyone did you up real pretty.” She smiles down at you. 

“They did, this team might be my favorite.” You smile up at her. 

“Good, good…” She says as the two of you walk. “I gotta ask you a favor and I know you don’t wanna do it but Ward Cameron is up my ass and if I know if we make a fuss, which I want to, things will get leaked to the press and none of you kids need that right now.” 

“What do you need, Minnie?” You furrow your brow. 

“I need you, specifically, to sing a song with one of the members of The Swell. Ward wants it to be JJ for publicity to say there is no bad blood between the two of you, but he can kiss my ass. That is up to you to forgive him and only you, hun.” 

“Jesus Min, this man is gonna be a pain in our asses all tour isn’t he?”

Minnie nods and that is all you need to know that it is going to be a long tour. 

“Alright, I’ll do it. And I’m choosing the song.” You say. 

“Sounds good to me. Break a leg, you’re gonna kill out there.” She offers a kind smile before reaching five steps away from you and she is surrounded by people who need to ask her questions. 

You turn around and go back towards the dressing rooms. You look around looking for the name you need. You go up to the door and knock. 

The door opens and you have a smirk up at him. 

“How would you like to piss off your dad tonight.” You ask. 

He doesn’t respond with words but instead, a sly smirk spreads across his face and he opens the door wider so that you can step inside. 

—

The crowd was electric tonight. Even though most of The Swell’s songs were unknown to the crowd, they enjoyed it very much and it definitely helped that all the members were attractive. 

You stand backstage getting mixed up as you watch from the sidelines. As the last song comes to an end JJ goes up to the middle mic. 

“How’d y’all like that one?” He asks the crowd. They cheer and scream to show their enthusiasm. 

“Good, good,” He chuckles into the mic. “Now I’m gonna hand this over to Rafe.” 

Rafe is up from his drum set and someone is already taking his place. He runs up and daps up JJ before taking his place in front of the mic. 

“Now, if you’re a fan of The Swell, you’ll know I don’t sing up in the front often but I wanted to treat y’all for the first show. And as for something extra special, I have a guest. But your hands together for Y/N L/N of The Sirens, everybody!” He exclaims. 

The crowd goes while as your name is said and you step out on the stage. You give the band members a wave except JJ and head on over to Rafe. 

“Hey, everyone, are these guys treating you well?” You ask into the mic. The crowd cheers in response. You smile seeing everyone enjoying themselves. 

“I'm glad, so I have a question,” You look at the crowd. “Do y’all know Perfect by One Direction?” 

The crowd erupts in total chaos. 

“Seems like they know it, pretty girl.” Rafe flirts. You give him a smirk and move in closer. 

“Seems like it, so y’all are gonna sing along with us?” The crowd erupts once again in cheers. “Alright let’s do it.” You smile at the crowd. 

The music starts playing and you sway your body to the music coming from your ears. Rafe brings the mic to his lips and winks at you before he sings. 

“I might never be your knight in shining' armor, I might never be the home you take home to Mother,” He sings to the audience. “And I might never be the one who brings you flowers,” He turns to you while pointing at himself and sings “I can be the one, be the one tonight.” 

The crowd screams loving the chemistry the two of you are displaying 

“ When I first saw you from across the room I could tell that you were curious,” You sing, looking up at him and checking him out. 

“Oh, yeah,” The whole band harmonizes with you. 

“Boy, I hope you’re sure what you’re looking for ‘cause I’m not good at making promises” You riff. 

You and the whole band sing the chorus. But as you sing your eyes are locked on Rafe and his eyes are locked with yours. 

When everyone gets to the line, “If you like to do the things we shouldn’t do,” you and Rafe are close. He has one hand on the mic and the other on your waist. You have two arms around his shoulders sharing the mic he was sharing. His gaze is locked with yours not daring to look away. 

For the rest of the song the two of you are never less than a foot apart and when you are close one of you is touching the other. It was like you were the only people on stage even though you were performing in front of thousands.

Although you never looked away from the audience or Rafe, the one thing you could feel was JJ’s burning jealous gaze on your back. 

after the concert...

taglist: @ivysprophecy @kimoralov3 @arkofblake @eddsthemunson @zyafics @papercranesandinkstains @jjslaybank @isnt-itstrange @ayy1234567 @upsidedownjill @mads-writes-vibes @shincidios @hittmeandtellmeyouremine @mattslutiolo @xoxo-ada @mariamsdison6-blog @eternallovers65 @smootbrainchicken @starsval @writer-who-rarely-writes @whorelaud @ame1le @me-ig1 @marleymarleymarleymarley @cassiewritessalot @everinlove @robinsgrl

[opinion-haver]

these replies perfectly summarize how we got to the issue of devaluing human connection in the first place and how this post is pretty much exacerbating the issue:

“yall are so dumb” - this sentiment writes off an entire population of people who are struggling. literally destroying human connections directly. and i think that in and of itself is dumb

“this is sooooo dystopian” -its pretty obvious how people running to ai therapists fullblown sucks and is dystopian but one must not forget that pointing at an issue isnt actually addressing it, especially when the comparison is rooted in nostalgia.

“these people are pitiful”- another strain of thinking people are so dumb. its patronizing. if you cant find shared humanity— if you cant see within yourself a version that would succumb, you dont understand the problem.

honorable mention: the tools introduced above lend a very fun look into how ineffectual the system is and how these tools dont address at all the reasons why one would speak to an ai therapist in the first place.

worksheets: if i was going through a breakup or panic attack or some shit equivalent you would be absolutely kidding me to think that i would open up a worksheet. im suicidal not a masochist. zero humanity in that response.

chart-games: i find these useful, i even made a modified in-browser personal guide just for myself. but the issue is that most of the times conscious malaise isnt often cured by just eating or drinking just because you forgot. and thats if you remember to go to the website when youre doing badly in the first place. if im in hell im checked the fuck out.

finch: as a daily user of finch, i know directly how helpful this tool can be. it pairs the dopamine rush of games with executive function, like so many other gamified trackers out there. i like the data analysis personally, reflections are so useful to knowing yourself from day to day. but its very much trying to monetize your self care. to gate some of its tools behind a premium subscription because (paraphrase) “you deserve self care” is insidious as hell. and the ways it treats you is patronizing. i know youre dressing up a cartoon bird but i dont think helping the bird discover it likes baby shark is particularly salient to the aging tumblr userbase

ok so ive complained a whole lot. but in order to put money where my mouth is, whats the solution?

well obviously! to foster human connection of course. if these people dont know what real human connection is like its because nobody has BEEN real human connection for them. and vice versa— if you strawman these people into mindless idiots then clearly you dont understand their psyche.

in lieu of an ai therapist, reach out to a gd friend.

if you dont got friends, go make em. its ez. outside is easiest— show up to some kind of local thing or the other. it doesnt have to mesh with you completely but learning about Hetero Jessicas worklife balance is way more illustrative of human reality than chatgpt. but outside is not the only way. go ping someone random. get over the initial fear. fall in love with strangers. learn about their cats and trade cat pictures or some shit. its not easy but its worth it. hell, if you want to dm me i might even reply, if im not busy.

solidarity saved me. it can save you too.

guys. please

[disgustingtwitches]

A Rose in Harlem

Simon Riley is an enigma—a brooding, complex man with a shadowed past that he can’t escape. You’re just an ordinary person until he claws his way into your life and you can't help but give in to him. The only problem is that you try to keep things casual, while Simon's never been one to settle for that.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared.

Masterlist

PART 3

(He longs to be) Close to you

***

You freeze, heart pounding, the moment shattered. Who the fuck is that? You think to yourself, panic creeping in. Another knock then a familiar, playful voice from the other side of the door.

“Bitch! I know you're home!”

“Oh my God. Ishta.”

You completely forgot about your little watch party with her. This can't be happening now. Of course it's happening right now.

“Hm, that a girlfriend I don't know about?”

Simon murmurs, nuzzling his face to your neck.

“You need to go.”

Your voice is low, urgent, but it only seems to amuse him. His hands wrap around your waist, pumping his hips upwards, rubbing himself against your soaked underwear.

“What, you're kicking me out? Just like that?”

He nips at your neck, making you yeep. He tightens his hold, long arms locking you in.

You tense, trying to wiggle from him but him and his stupidly defined arms aren't budging.

“I'm serious; you need to leave, now.”

You twist in his arms, your anxiety growing as Ishta's knocking gets louder. She's never been patient.

You can feel his lips curve into a smile.

“You're tense, should relax a bit.”

“Relax?! Oh my God, I'm gonna kill you.”

You snap in a hushed tone, yanking yourself free (well, more like he finally relents and lets you go). You tug your shorts up while he follows suit, much more leisurely than you. He quips while letting you drag him towards the fire escape,

“Can't believe I'm the other woman, thought I was special, angel.”

“You're not making this easy.”

“Mistresses rarely do.”

Simon smirks, while you pull him to the window. Ishta knocks again, louder this time.

“Stop jerking off, the ice cream is melting!”

Simon snickers and you push him through the window onto the fire escape. His large frame steps out, stretching out while he turns to you.

“What? No kiss goodbye?”

“Simon!”

He doesn't budge until you lean out the window, planting a quick, chaste kiss on his scared lips. His hand cups the back of your neck, practically shoving his tongue down your throat, before you wrench yourself away.

“Bye.”

The words come out harsher than you mean while you shut the window, watching him slip into his place, not trusting him to sneak back into yours.

Ishta's voice whines from behind your front door. You smooth out your clothes, pasting a sheepish, wide smile. You take a deep breath before opening your door.

“Hey girl! Sorry I-”

“Was jerking off thinking about your neighbor? I know girl. Get that nut in friend.”

She empties her tote, sets some wine bottles down and grabs two cups from the kitchen before bending to sit on the couch. You wince watching her try to sit where his bare ass was.

“Oh! No don't-”

She looks at you curiously, frozen mid-squat— your brain scrambling to find something remotely plausible.

“I spilled tuna juice there earlier.”

She narrows her eyes at you, searching your face. She must be satisfied with what she sees because she shrugs and moves to the other side.

“Can't smell fishy. Got a date later.”

She pops open a bottle, pouring a generous amount into each cup. You grab the one she offers and take a seat on the arm of the couch.

“A date, huh? Is it that finance guy from last month?”

She rolls her eyes, turning on the TV.

“Oh God, no. He was so fucking annoying, trust fund baby.”

You laugh a little, grateful for her not pressing you on the couch thing.

“So who's the lucky guy?”

She waves her hand vaguely, her attention already on the TV, looking for a show.

“Met him at the park. He was jogging—shirtless, obviously—and tripped over his own fucking shoelaces. Adorable. Total himbo vibes.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling into your glass.

“Thought you liked nerds.”

“That's the thing,”

She turned to you, grinning like a fool.

“Ok so, we were talking about showers,”

“Naturally.”

“Naturally. Anyways, he starts going on about different hypotheses of 'the shower curtain effect' with this dumbass smile on his face. I'm trying not to stare at his tits and just ask him if he wants drinks before I start drooling. Obviously, he says yes, and here we are!”

She finishes her glass and helps herself to another. You lean closer to her.

“So what's the plan? Drinks, talk about nerdy shit, and then stumble into his place and ogle at his star wars figurines?”

“First off all,”

She raises a finger.

“He’s an artist, so get it right. And secondly, he's Scottish. So like, the accent makes everything hotter.”

You hum curiously.

“My apologies, I clearly underestimated his international flare.”

“You did. Also, you're welcome for letting you live vicariously through me, by the way.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder.

“Oh, oohh my goodness. Thank you for your graciousness.”

You say in mock appreciation, hand over your heart. Her eyes twinkle when she winks at you.

“Freely granted, my dear. I'll text you all the juicy details.”

“Lucky me.”

You say dryly, swirling your wine glass. Ishta lightly hits your knee.

“Look at us. You got your English guy, I got my Scottish one. Just gotta snatch up an Irish and Welsh one, and we've got a whole set!”

“Please be serious, girl. Also, he's not ‘my guy’, he's just a neighbor.”

“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that. We'll see how long that lasts.”

***

You've been more moody lately. From Ishta unintentionally cock-blocking you, to work being particularly demanding, and finally, Simon terrorizing you relentlessly.

Ever since ‘the incident’ he's been on you like white on rice. He'll stop you in the mornings in the foyer and casually talk about how he came to the thought of you last night or stand behind you in the elevator and grind up against you, laxly apologizing.

“Sorry. It's just such a tight fit here, right angel?”

You silently thank God Simon has the sense to pull these stunts when no one else is around to witness his brand of debauchery (he doesn't, you just got lucky no one's there when he pulls that shit).

You're barely holding onto your patience. Every word he says, every deliberate touch grates on your nerves. He has you on edge, dangling by a thread. A simple nudge could send you tumbling— yet he never quite gives it. Instead, he leaves you like this, toeing the line.

Waiting. Waiting on you to make the jump.

It kind of surprises you, given the whole…incident. You expected him to follow you into your apartment one day and finally consummate whatever twisted, simmering thing you had going on. But he didn't. Seemed to enjoy making you squirm.

***

You could almost forget about him during the day. Almost. Work has been a circus lately, thanks to your boss—the museum curator who seems to thrive on chaos. She’s brilliant, yes, but she’s also impossible. Barking orders, demanding perfection, treating every missed detail like a personal betrayal. You spend your mornings running errands and your afternoons fielding phone calls from artists who need their egos stroked. The only moment of reprieve is when you’re in the gallery itself, away from the madness, the artwork pulling you into a quiet, timeless space.

But even that doesn’t last. Today, you spent hours installing a new piece—a massive, fragile sculpture—and as soon as it was in place, she decided it needed to be moved six inches to the left. Six inches. By the time you got home, your nerves were frayed, your patience long gone.

He’d been waiting in the lobby when you arrived, as if he knew you’d had a long day. His presence suffocating, his voice a low murmur in your ear as he stood too close, his hand brushing your hip when you reached for the elevator button.

“You look tense, angel.”

“Simon, please.”

“‘Please?’ Wow, must've been really bad today.”

He chuckles to himself, like he's so fucking funny.

You rub your eyes, the tired dryness a reminder of the day you'd had. He sees this as an invitation to step behind you and wrap his arms around you. Large frame towering over you, long arms sliding around you.

“Not in the mood for this today, Simon.”

You mutter, void of its usual bite.

You don't even have the energy to push him away when he plants a kiss on the side of your neck, softer than the last time his lips touched your skin.

“So sweet when you're tired out. Wonder if you're like this after-”

The elevator dings and you pull away, pushing his head off your shoulder and trudging to your place. At this point, you're too drained to care about his games, too tired to rise to the bait.

If he wasn't going to stop playing, wasn't going to do anything but pussyfoot around, you had better things to do—like collapse on your bed and sleep for 12 hours straight.

You reach your door and fumble with your keys, cursing under your breath when they decide now is the perfect time to be elusive in your bag.

“Need help?”

You don’t jump. You’re too used to that voice coming from behind you, low and amused. His words echo in your head more than you’d like to admit these days.

“No.”

You say, sharp enough to bite through the air as you finally fish the keys out and shove one into the lock.

It sticks. Of course, it sticks.

He says something you ignore while he leans against the side of the doorframe, watching you struggle. Your head lands on the door with a soft thud, forehead pressing against the cool metal.

“You’ve been quiet tonight. Not like you to let me have the last word.”

“I’m too tired for this.”

“For what?”

“For your bullshit.”

You spit, jiggling the key rougher than necessary.

Simon hums, entertained.

“There she is. Was worried I lost you for a minute.”

The key refuses to turn. Between him looking over your shoulder and the fucking door mocking you, your patience starts to shred, gossamer-thin.

When the door finally opens, you turn to him.

“Do you ever shut up?”

He shrugs.

“Not when I’m having this much fun.”

“You call this fun?”

“Watching you fight with a door? Yeah, a little bit. Had my money on the door though, unfortunately.”

You swear his grin is almost audible under that mask.

Your eyes narrow, heated.

“Don't you have somewhere else to be?”

He doesn't miss a beat.

“No, actually. Not tonight.”

“Of course not, when do you ever?”

You mutter, yanking your keys out of the lock.

“Just keeping the schedule free for you, love.”

“Free to annoy me?”

“Something like that.”

Your eyes drift from his face down to his arms crossed over his chest. His compression shirt doesn't help, the material stretching in a way that feels obscene.

Then while he watches you stare, he flexes subtly.

It pulls a laugh out of you, the sound slipping out before you can help it,

“Whore.”

He pulls his mask down, showing off his own smile. His canines sharp and slightly crooked, but somehow it makes him more attractive. Like he doesn't just accept his imperfections, but wears them proudly, fully aware of their charm.

“Just for you, angel.”

“Your persistence is coming off pathetic.”

You huff half-hearted, crossing your arms.

“Doesn't seem to bother you much.”

Simon goads. You think this is the happiest you've ever seen him.

“It does.”

You lick your teeth, feigning irritation. He mirrors the movement, finishing it off with a smile that makes your face hot.

“Go on then,”

His voice drops lower, thick and languid, molasses poured slow on a hot day.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

It's quiet for a moment. He tilts his head, eyes glinting and the edge you've been teetering on crumbles underneath you, all reservations and restraint gone. You grip the strings of his hoodie and pull him down to your face.

“You're insufferable.”

“Yes.”

“A tease.”

“Mhm.”

“Worst neighbor I've ever had.”

“Ouch.”

He says, though his tone is anything but wounded. If anything, it sounds downright gleeful.

“Makes me wanna do awful things to you.”

You say in a hushed tone, a newfound energy pumping through your veins. The space between you grows smaller as you tug him even closer, his hands instinctively finding your waist, steadying both of you.

“Yeah,”

His voice is low, molten. A scorching heat that flows from his mouth down your chest and stomach.

“Probably use those pretty little hands, leave marks. Bruises I'd feel every time I breathe.”

You twirl the strings around your fingers, leading him into your place. It feels like tugging on a leash tied to a dangerous dog— wild and unpredictable, tethered to you and you only. He catches the door before it slams shut, closing it without looking, dark eyes honed in on you. Makes your stomach do flips.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

His silence is answer enough, a smirk playing on his face. You muse, shoving him toward the couch with a playful push,

“Maybe I'd keep it simple, knife to the heart. If I could find it.”

He spreads out on the cushions, pulling you to him, making you straddle one of his thick thighs.

“Sounds painful, tell me more.”

“Maybe I'd tie you up. Make you beg for your life.”

When you say that, he groans— an honest-to-god groan and his grip on your hips tightens.

“It’d be hard, getting through all that muscle and bone,”

He grabs your wrist, making you press two fingers on the hard, fast pulse right under his jaw.

“Be quicker and easier to hit it right here. Faster way to go out.”

You cock your head to the side, biting back a moan feeling the beat of the vein under his skin go impossibly fast when you hum.

“Think I'm gonna go easy on you?”

His response is instant, almost desperate if you thought he was capable of that emotion.

“I hope to God not.”

He wraps himself around you, pressing you up against his solid frame like he's trying to meld his body to yours.

***

He's been at this for long, too long. He hasn't even taken off either of your pants, all too happy to have you grinding your pants against his denim. It's got you so pent up, you're half crazed, panting in the crook of his neck and mumbling pleas for relief.

“Want you, Simon.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head and you groan in frustration.

“Been a real brat lately, can't reward that kind of behavior.”

“Pleasepleaseplease-”

“Sound so pretty, begging for me.”

You're trying anything at this point. Anything but ripping his clothes off. Or yours.

“Don't you wanna feel good too?”

Your tone is so dulcet, it's almost too sweet in your mouth, words dripping with a carefully calculated innocence. You play with the waistband of his jeans, before you can get too far he takes hold of your wrist.

“I know what you're trying to do.”

There's a pause while you pull back to look at him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Is it working?”

“Hmm…”

“Simon!”

You huff, almost whiny. He relents, only a little, bouncing you on his thigh once before forcing your hips to grind down harder on him. It makes you lean into him again, he presses a soft kiss on your temple, the kind of gesture that feels almost like he's mocking you with a false sense of soothing. As if he feels bad for you—his touch gentle but somehow condescending.

“Poor thing, could've gotten it sooner if you wanted to. Closed mouths don't get fed, you know?”

He sounds amused, lips still brushing against your temple. Your mouth finds its way to his neck, he lulls his head back, giving you more access to it. It's sweet, tender, starting at his collarbone and moving up slowly until you get to the artery he made you press up against earlier. The moment your teeth press up against it, he comes undone.

“Gaggin’ for it that bad?”

The sound of his belt clicking makes you downright giddy, you lick his neck, feeling his heartbeat under your tongue.

“Mhm…”

He grabs your hand to shove it down his pants and your brain goes static for a moment.

“Had me waiting all this time, and now you want it?”

It's growled into your ear, something about the way it's almost spat out, mean—it sends jolts of electricity between your legs.

“C'mon, show me how much you missed it.”

Your face heats up at his words and he lets out an entertained huff.

“He missed you too, ya know.”

A breathless giggle escapes you when he flexes, making his dick jump in your hands. You pull him out of his pants, eyes going wide. You've felt how big he was before, but seeing it was a whole different thing. Made it all real. Something about the way his pink tip peeked out made you laugh a little, a fleeting thought of him blushing everywhere, even on his dick.

“What?”

He furrows his brows a little, curious.

The truth tumbles out of you before you can stop it. You think you've made a mistake until you see him. His face is unreadable at first, and you brace for some sharp quip or a look of annoyance.

But instead, Simon’s reaction is… different. His ears go pink first, followed by a deep flush creeping up his neck. You want to laugh again but he creeps a hand up your spine to the back of your neck, guiding you into light kisses. You still manage to slip out a few giggles in-between, a smile creeping up across his face. It's such a warm moment, you almost forget about holding him until he twitches in your hands.

“Got the prettiest laugh.”

“Is there anything that you don't think is pretty about me?”

You ask, teasing him.

“No.”

His answer is quick, unwavering, and so serious that it makes your breath catch. You search his face, expecting the usual smirk or a sly remark, but there’s nothing there but honesty. He clears his throat, the faintest flicker of vulnerability flashing in his eyes before he tries to mask it.

“Right, let's get these off.”

He guides you off him so you can stand, he shimmies your pants and underwear off. Once you kick off the fabric pooled around your feet he leans forward, breath hot on your mons.

“Missed her.”

He says so quietly, almost to himself.

“Your pretty girl?”

You run a hand over his buzz cut, and he grips the sides of your bare thighs.

“Yeah…my pretty girl.”

A wet kiss on your most sensitive spot makes your legs tense up. He traces slow, indulgent circles, like this was more for him than you. The tension in your body mounting with every flick of his tongue.

He goes on like this until your knees almost give way from a quick, hard suck. He holds you up with a strong grip under the crease of your ass.

“Think you can stand on your own for a minute, love?”

You’re far past the point of throwing a smart remark his way, your body humming with the tension he’s left simmering under your skin. Instead, you nod quickly, eagerly.

“So good for me, angel. How'd I get so lucky, hm?”

It’s less a question and more an indulgence, the kind of thing he says to soak in the moment while he shoves his pants down to his thighs. When he pulls you towards him, guiding you to settle on his lap, just brushing his tip over your slick entrance, you follow without hesitation—soft, pliant, docile.

“Such a sweet thing. Only for me, right?”

Before you get to answer, he drags your hips down, pushing himself inside you. The stretch borders on discomfort—not just because it's been a while, but because he's thicker than anyone you've ever had before.

It's all so overwhelming— his voice, his touch, his body—all glut and heavy with want. The weight of it crashes over you, leaving you dizzy, untethered. Every word he speaks seeps into your skin, warm and lingering, while his hands, firm yet reverent, treat you like something both fragile and fiercely desired.

When he slides you down more, you tense up. Thighs flexing, clenching around him. It draws a curse from him,

“Fuck…yeah, only for me.”

The moment is so much softer than you imagined it to be—aside from him trying to lick the inside of your mouth. It's coos and words of encouragement,

“Look at you, taking it like a big girl,”

“Bet you needed this as much as I did,”

Big, rough hands gliding up and down your body, squeezing gently. Slow, deep strokes sink into you until you're a shaking mess, arms wrapped around him, clinging onto him like he's your lifeline, mumbling nonsense into his neck. He's taking full advantage of the moment, of course, his voice low and dripping with amusement as he watches you come undone for him.

"Gonna be like this all the time now, pet?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Only like this for me, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You whisper, the words spilling out as easily as your control.

“No one else gets to touch you like this, huh?”

“Uhn-uh.”

Your lips brushing against his neck, your heartbeat hammering against his chest, sweat slick against the skin.

And it goes on like this, making empty promises with the devil. Signing yourself away with no hesitation, no second thoughts. Because he kisses you so tenderly it makes you flutter everywhere. Because the way he lifts you up just to buck his hips up into you makes your brain leak out of your ears. Because here, pressed against him, drowning in his voice and touch, there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

He hits that spot that makes your nerves taught. You're a string wound up too tight, his name spilling from your mouth again and again, each time more ragged, a little more whiny and desperate, until it finally snaps. You shatter, the force knocking the air from your lungs while he throws his head back, your name leaking out like it's the only word he knows. You're overstimulated, thighs burning and shaking while he ruts into you. You're pushing him with flimsy arms, whining about how ‘it's too much’. That only seems to egg him on, though, spurring him to murmur filth between honeyed kisses,

“Gonna ruin you for anyone else,”

“Split you apart everyday and you'll fucking thank me for it, won't you?”

He doesn't even look for an answer from you, more than happy to bask in the mess he made of you. A few more strokes has him choking mid-sentence, sinking so deep inside you think he might've been serious about splitting you apart.

It's quiet for a moment, save for the heavy breaths shared between the two of you

“You with me, angel?”

He sighs, his lips press against the skin right over your heart. He lingers, sucking softly, the kind of pressure that's going to leave the skin tender for days—a reminder of him.

You nod, barely able to find your voice, but he waits-patient, his hands wrapping around yours.

"Yeah…”

You finally manage, squeezing a hand that completely engulfs yours, brushing against it with your thumb.

"Good,"

He whispers, his lips brushing against yours again.

"That's all I need.”

And in the back of your mind, as his touch lingers, there's a small fleeting thought:

Oh, you're fucked.

prev |

[xyfanficarchive]

headcanons: calling up your mouthwashing bf to come over when you’re sick <3

because i’m sick.

ft. curly, jimmy, and daisuke

its my first time writing daisuke… idk brother but i had ideas for him so

Curly:

-this sweet, loving man is on the scene to come to your aid asap. like it’s his destiny to be your sicknurse. he loves being there to care for you

-he shows up with everything: warm blankets, hes got cold and flu medicine, he brought your favourite sweater of his for you to wear, little snacks, a thermometer to take your temperature

-if you’re lucky, he asked his mum to make soup, and he brought a serving or two. the man can’t really cook. he had a lovely mother who fed him and then spent way too much time in space eating prepackaged meals and slop assembled from gelatin water and sweetener.

-but her soup is not something you can just whip up really fast; so if not, he’ll try cooking anyways - an easy recipe. pre made broth cartons and all that. might even go for the pre packaged dry soup sachets. he’s aware of his culinary shortcomings. but it’s made with the utmost love.

-he does make a great cup of tea. nice, warm, and sweet to soothe your sore throat.

-he’s typically a well dressed man but he shows up in comfy clothes. he’s ready to lock down and cuddle with you for as long as you need, on the bed, or on the couch watching a movie, something lighthearted and low stakes. he’s a furnace, theres no better man to lie with when you’re shivering from the fever and cant get warm.

-he’ll gently massage your achey body, the man has magic hands, you feel so much better.

-when the fever breaks and you’re sweaty and flushed he’s there to help strip you out of the thick layers and dab cool water on your face and neck and chest

-he knows he’s gonna get sick. but he doesn’t mind that much, its all worth it to be there and to show you how much he cares <3

Jimmy:

-not gonna lie, his first thought is “what the fuck, i don’t wanna get sick, i can’t afford that shit.” he almost doesn’t want to come. cause when he gets sick, he always has to weather the sickness all alone.

-he doesn’t eat that well on earth. so maybe he’s a lil malnourished, his immune system isn’t the strongest. when he gets sick he’s fucking down for the count.

-but he zips it up, and thinking for a second more he realizes that he was the first one you called for help and comfort and he just. pauses and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs. “…just hang on, I’ll be right there.” he does care about you, when it comes down to it.

-and imagine your surprise when you amble weakly to the door and he’s there, with a bottle of nyquil and, a bag of vegetables, some pasta, and is that a whole uncooked chicken?! he dug deep into his coffers to get ingredients to make you real chicken soup. if that doesnt show you how much jimmy loves you idk what will.

-he’s no 5 star chef, but he can cook pretty well. he can follow a recipe no problem. there were a lot of “fend for yourself” nights growing up. sometimes he’d even save his own money as a kid to buy ingredients to make a real proper meal.

-(and also slaving away over the stove for hours gives him an excuse to keep his distance as much as possible, man does not want to get infected.)

-he’s still gonna sit with you, let you lay your head on his lap while he waits for the soup to all simmer together. stroking your hair while you’re under a pile of blankets, both watching nothing tv just to pass the time and fill the silence. you can kinda smell the soup, what you can smell is rich and delicious

-you both eat his incredible hearty nourishing soothing soup and cuddle on the couch when you start getting cold. and when he starts thinking it’s time to leave he realizes you fell asleep on his chest. fuck, i guess he’s stuck now.

-he really, really hopes you’ll return the favour in a week’s time when he’s sick as a dog. (you better go nurse that man and make him feel so cared for)

Daisuke:

-the man is thrilled. hes like AWWW YEAH DAISUKE TO THE RESCUE COMING TO NURSE MY BOO BACK TO HEALTH. he’s so happy you asked him for help. he’s determined to make you feel better.

-he really does the absolute most. he pulls up with like, several different kinds of medicine, he’s got games and movies to pass the time, he’s got so many snacks and junk food. he was at the store thinking, what food always makes me feel better? and filled his cart. there was a get well soon balloon at the checkout line so you know he bought it last second.

-he’s a little. much. he’s just enthusiastic about making you feel better. he’s going through the whole laundry list of everything he brought while your sluggish sick brain is in circles trying to keep up. and not gonna lie, you’re a little too fatigued to play video games.

-so you’re lying there next to him under the blankets watching him play video games and munching on like. chips and candy and stuff. coughing and dripping from your nose. kinda drifting in and out of sleep. he’s doing his very best to keep it down. but just being near him is so comforting.

-eventually. the junk food just is not cutting it. and your mouth kinda hurts from the hard salty snacks and your tongue is coated from the candy. “daisuke, baby… did you bring any real food?” and you sound all weak and hoarse and youre aching all over. he’s like. OH, shit. yah i guess chips arent the most nourishing food for when youre sick huh…. he sits there thinking for a moment and then the lightbulb goes off

-“hold on babe, i know just the thing, i’ll be right back!!” and he rushes out. on the way to the grocery store again he’s calling up his mom like MAMA how do you make that soup you gave me when i was sick as a kid???

-he comes back and whips up estrellita soup in no time, because its just like, chicken broth and some salt and little star pasta. and he looks so damn pleased handing you the bowl. how the fuck can you feel bad when he’s smiling like that over this bowl of tiny little stars.

-he’s so happy watching you eat his childhood sick soup. he spends the night, all he wants is to make you feel better, he doesnt even think once about getting sick himself.

[judes-hoe]

Too Long ~ JB5

Genre ~ smut(18+), little fluff

Summary ~ you and Jude can’t keep your hands off each other at a family dinner. So Denise makes you sleep in separate rooms.

Warnings ~ p in v(unprotected), denial, caught,

A/N ~ here you go my anon that wanted this🩷🩷 (also I am NOT making Denise seem mean, i clearly state in the fic she does it because family is over and she wants you both to be respectful. Please do not come at me I’m just doing what anon wanted!!!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and jude were staying at his parent’s house for the weekend, because Denise and marks family were coming over on Saturday for a big family dinner. Yet you and Jude always had a little problem with keeping your hands to yourself.

Denise often giving warnings glances throughout the day. Making you sit at opposite sides of the couch with family between you both. Though you would just text each other, giggling to yourself. Then she took your phones… Denise was a cruel woman…but you loved her to bits.

Denise never does this, she is only doing it now due to all family being here and wants you and Jude to be respectful. Everyone gathered around the table, Denise letting you and Jude sit together as long as you behaved.

Not even 3 minutes in, Jude had to put a hand on your thigh. You had to bite back a smile. Dinner went by, you and Jude trying to do subtle touches. Before Denise gave a glare and nods to the kitchen. You and Jude look at each other knowing you’re in trouble.

You and Jude stood in the kitchen looking at Denise who had her arms crossed. “You two, how many times!” She asked. “Sorry, we can’t help it!” Jude said to his mother. “We love each other.” He whispered. “I get that Jude, but all I’m asking is for you guys to not be on each other eating your faces off.” She said.

“Ok…we’ll calm down.” He said. “And you’re sleeping in different rooms tonight, your aunt and uncle are staying the night and I don’t need them possibly hearing you both.” She said in a slightly embarrassed tone.

“Okay mom.” Jude said with no point in arguing. “Okay Denise.”

The night finished in a blur, Jude going to his room. You going to the room all the way down the hall. You sat there looking at the ceiling, playing on your phone a little. You always had trouble sleeping if Jude wasn’t near. Except it was in your guys bed back in your apartment in Madrid.

You checked your phone and it reads 1:35am. You sigh and look around the dark room. You hear a soft knock on the door. “Yes?” You whispered. You see the door open and a tall figure walk in. “I can’t sleep I need you.” You hear Jude say closing the door. “I can’t sleep either, come here.” You say.

You feel the bed dip, Jude lays next to you. “You think you can be quiet?” Jude ask nipping at your neck. You close your eyes and softly nod.

It wasn’t long before you and Jude had your clothes off. “I’ve been wanting this all day.” Jude said positioning himself between your legs. “Me too, I can’t wait to go home and not worry about this anymore.” You said. “I love your mom, but I hate these family events.” You tell him. “Me too love..” he said leaning down to kiss you as he slowly pushes inside you.

You let out a feel quiet muffled moans. Jude’s thrust is slow yet deep. He had to do it this way so you weren’t loud. You also both loved to switch to something more slow and passionate.

Jude pulls away his thrust slow and deep. Tucking your head in his neck, muffling your soft moans. “Fuck you feel so good.” Your hands coming to his back and holding onto him. “I love you.” You moan softly. Jude eyes flutter when he feels you squeezing his cock. “I love you too..”

It wasn’t long before you both cum, careful not to be too loud. Jude pulled out and laid next to you. “That was so good, you felt so good.” He mumbled and kissed your shoulder. “I’ll clean you up and then leave.”

He quickly clean himself and then you, helping dressing you and then himself again. He then kissed your forehead, waiting until you feel asleep before he snuck back to his room.

The next morning, you walk out your room and see Jude leaving his room. You both smirk and go downstairs. Sitting in the living room, giving each other discreet glances. Jude smirking at you, Denise sees this, she knows what you guys did. “You know I was thinking of redoing the floors, they’re quite creaky.” She said looking at you both.

You and Jude immediately look at each other and then at Denise. “Sorry Denise.” You mumbled. Jude just rolled his eyes, he didn’t regret last night, but he still disobeyed his mom’s rules. “Sorry mom.” He mumbled.

Later that day you and Jude were leaving the house. You stood at the front door hugging Denise, mark, and Jobe goodbye. “Sorry again Denise; we’ll work on controlling ourselves.” You tell her as you hug her. “I know what it’s like to be young and in love, but yes please work on it, especially around family.” She smiled and kissed your cheek.

Jude then hugged his mom. “Sorry mom, love you, see you whenever.” He said. You and Jude then got into the car and left for the airport. To go back home, with no worries of anyone hearing…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegavere

Note: This is my first try. If it sucks let me know.

Word count: 1705

You were not an alpha, you were certainly were no quivering omega, and you are not even a fucking beta. What in the name of a metaphorical god are you? With no conclusive, definitive answers to who or what you are. You are left to wander the expanse of earth. 

You have a sniper rifle with the initials of your name faded away. Scratched off by your own hand. Dubbed the lone wanderer. As you were often seen by military packs alone. No pack. No, nothing at your side. Did it matter to you? Not really. You were fine. Right?

Things were different when you were adamant in sewing the wound on your leg by yourself. “Don’t like it? Then…… Then you can fuck off.” you growled. Your fingertips worming their way to take the bullet from your leg. After the bullet was finally removed after several messy, painstaking minutes?

You dosed your wound in rubbing alcohol and hissed. But continued to stitch your own wound up. Contemplating whether to put in staples as well to keep the wound from ripping open again. As you finished up, firmly wrapping the bandage in place and thinking of what move to make.

You looked at your digital watch, five hours until sundown and five hours until you have to find somewhere safe enough to sleep. Limping to an abandoned office or one which looked to be in disuse. You weren’t going to let anyone catch you again. Not like last time, either. 

The screeching of the metal on concrete too familiar for your ears, you found a storage closet and shifted the blankets around to hide inside. Falling asleep to avoid hunger building inside your stomach. The cool metal digging into your body in combination to the thin woollen blankets lulled you. 

Lulled you straight into a slumber. An uneasy slumber. But slumber all the same. Hoping the gunshots in the distance would cover the quiet purrs coming from you, your lips and the office which is usually empty at this time of day. Things were soon to get far worse now. 

Things always tend to get worse before they even get the chance to get better. Life fucks you over and leaves you for the vultures to pick at your corpse. Always the victim. Never the victor. Thus, when you escaped the last pack who tried to claim you by force?

You learned to fight, to shoot, throw a knife and to hunt other animals. Living the high life, right? What more could you ask for? Home? Stability? A pack? A family? Ha! That shit was for Aphas, betas and omegas. You had survived this long on your own, hadn't you?

But what about the scent? Your scent? What about it? It's faint, growing stronger every second, it was your time. But you weren’t ready for it. To be fair, you have never been ‘ready’ for its arrival. And you certainly weren’t ready for it to happen now of all times. 

The heat of your core right up to the tightness in your abdomen. Your heat is coming. Fucking perfect. In the middle of a fucking war zone and your heat comes in while you’re injured. The closet wasn’t going to cut it anymore. You needed somewhere better to hide. Now.

Quickly moving, you grabbed your bone knife, your bag, your sniper rifle. You limped your way out of the closet. The sun is setting. You know what that brings? The hounds of Deadlock. The alphas of task force 141. If you could smell them? Then they already smelt you. 

They claimed stray omegas like they were kings of the fucking world, and anyone who had a problem with that?  Well, they'd just blow their fucking heads off. That's what alphas did. But you? You weren’t going to tango with alphas. A death sentence wrapped inside a twisted hand basket case.

You rarely go into heat. As far as you know, it is quite rare for you to get into heat. The medication you took prevented it from showing. Always taking it two days before one came close to showing. Here you are with your large med bottle empty. No warning.

Like your pathetic, absent deadbeat of a father, you hoped you would not have to see it happen to you. The scent grew stronger still, a sweet coppery tang uniquely yours and yours alone. Panic rushed through you, your body and your senses. Urging, willing, forcing yourself to move faster.

Stumbling into the hallway, moving to the medical room three rooms away from the office you forced yourself to hide in three hours prior. Checking your wristwatch habitually. Two hours until midnight comes knocking on your door. Two more hours until your heat comes in full swing. Only two hours. 

Pushing the barrel of your gun into the door. Forcing your way into the medical room, the smell of clinic grade medical rubbing alcohol assaulted your senses. You didn’t have the patience to be slow and steady like you would have wanted. Not with the impending danger at your heels. 

Shoving a chair underneath the door handle to prevent someone from coming in while you stocked up on antibiotics, clean bandages, painkillers, antiseptic, and any other kind of medical supplies you thought were important for your needs. All of them. Shoved into your backpack. You weren’t going anywhere without them.

With your scent growing increasingly stronger. You worried immensely about them being able to kick down the door and drag you away from there by force. If they found you, you would be as good as theirs. Fucked up leg and all. It didn’t matter that you were in there.

You paused, standing at the door, listening for movement, footsteps down the hall. Listening for the sturdy combat boots to come marching right past you, hoping the room’s medical grade antiseptic and bleach would be strong enough to cover your heat. Your scent. The sticky fluid urging to come out.

Yet you heard nothing. It was silent. Too quiet. Suspiciously silent even. You knew better than to let it conquer your sense of self-preservation. You came too far to let yourself get taken again. You had to wait this one out. No matter how long it took or how hard.

Waiting felt like agony, felt like nails on a chalkboard, every second passing did nothing for your anxiety. The windows were covered to prevent flashlights, helicopter lights and other unwelcome visitors from peaking inside the medical room. Your breaths grew shallower, your stomach getting tighter, and your heat is here.

Your body temperature rising to an unbearable, flow of burning heat. Biting down on your thick leather belt to muffle the sounds coming from your lips. The sound of window glass breaking, shattering as you hid in the medical shower underneath the cold water and away from the door’s window. 

Your grimy, sweaty, dirty clothes removed and left into a bath of white vinegar soaking in a plastic tub. As you used the surgical scrub to clean yourself with. You hoped if you cleaned your clothes with vinegar, soaked it inside it and let it stew within the white vinegar.

Silently hoping by time morning came around your clothes would be dried, clean and ready to wear again for the new day. Trapped inside this medium sized room until the first wave of your intense heat passed on by. It would become unmanageable quickly if you let it control you. 

Ghost sniffed the air, they weren’t going to get to you in time now were they? By the time this wave went through your body. You would be gone and the morning would arrive. And they’d have to smell your sweet scent after the fact. After you were long gone.

“If she hasn’t left yet, in the next six hours, the heat will pass, and she’s gonna be long gone by the time we’ve sniffed her out.” Ghost told Price. Taking another long whiff of the sweetest scent he’s ever smelt in a long time. You’re sweeter than he assumed.

“Are you even sure this stray isn’t an omega like the other we’ve found? What makes you so damn sure she’s not another one?” Price questioned Simon, his voice both gruff and sceptical of his comrade’s analysis over the situation. He had every right to be sceptical over this one.

“Her scent is sweet, tooth rotting levels of sweet, think candy bars and cotton candy. There’s some spice to it, like cinnamon or pumpkin spice in those pumpkin spice lattes Gaz loves drinking so much. It's faint. But it is most certainly there. IF you know where to find it.” 

“But what else makes her so special?” Gaz enquired, hinting at the desire to ascertain as to why General Shepherd sent them out here. His burning urge to know more was there whenever something unusual is brought to their attention. Regardless of how they have personally felt about it all. 

“Well for starters, she’s covering her tracks, if she’s smart enough to do that? Then she’s not an omega, she’s a fucking ghost, mate. If anything, you’d think she’s been out there longer than we’ve been in this shithole. This is her playing field, Gaz. Her prime hunting ground now.” Soap smirked, a grin from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat rather than an alpha wolf’s. 

Gaz pulled out the file with your photo printed onto the white page, “This her Ghost?” Gaz asked ghost for confirmation. He wouldn’t budge until his information, he looked into his own time. 

Ghost remembered you, the rancher hat you wore that day and the bandana hiding half your face from his eyes. Shooting him in the shoulder with a tracking bullet. “Put a tracking bullet into my shoulder with her sniper rifle. It took us two weeks to get it removed without it detonating and taking my arm with it. That’s not a move an omega would make, it’s a move done by professionals. And she is a fucking ghost, moving in time with her surroundings. She’s not a sitting duck for us to come and claim her, she’s a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, that one.”

[genderqueerdykes]

We're appreciating these pro-endo posts as an endogenic, especially the fact you account for traumatized endogenics (we at least notice "usually" and other such words in a lot of posts, and were taught at a young age how to analyze shit because of being autistic) so like...thanks. :)

Hopefully y'all are okay, anti-endos are really showing their asses this time in your asks. And we hope everyone else realizes they have always been that bigoted.

hey of course, thanks for sending this ask!

yeah i don't know why people don't understand that endogenic systems can... also have trauma. like. endogenic doesn't mean 100% free from trauma. anyone can have trauma. trauma doesn't always manifest in the most extreme forms possible like dissociative disorders. like i cannot stress enough that dissociative disorders are a very specific kind of plurality, and should NOT be used as a metric to gauge whether or not someone's plural experience is legitimate or not. the diagnostic criteria for dissociative disorders is so painfully restrictive that a lot of people who probably do have a dissociative disorder don't get the diagnosis because it's so fucking specific

and again, i just want to stress that endogenic systems literally are not hurting anyone. you are not spitting in my face or talking over me as a system with DID. you are being respectful by using a term that suits your experience way better. like idk how that is offensive to people. endogenic systems developed a term to express a specific type of plurality. that's not trying to mock or ape on dissociative plurality. it's not an attempt to talk over dissociatives. it's creating an entirely new conversation that needs to be had

people getting upset about endogenic systems are creating mountains out of mole hills. it is quite literally a nothing burger of a problem. there IS no problem. nothing wrong is even happening. like i cannot overstate how fucking annoying it is when other dissociatives decide its time to get on their high horses and act as if they're suddenly experts on psychology and mental health. like it really pisses me off when other plurals with dissociative disorders decide the entire plural community is about them. the dissociative disorder communities are about plurals with dissociative disorders. specifically. you can still occupy spaces made for people with DID, OSDD and so on and leave endogenics alone and the world will keep turning. the sun will rise tomorrow regardless.

learn to mind your own goddamn business if you can't respect that other people experience the world differently than you do. maybe, just maybe, the dissociatives who are intentionally going out of their way to mock and harass endogenic systems are the fucking problem, here. you don't get to be a fucking bully just because you have trauma. you don't get to attack and hurt people who haven't hurt you just because you were abused. that's literally fucking perpetuating the cycle of abuse. if you think to yourself that because you are traumatized, that it's okay to take your anger out on people who have no trauma, you seriously need to reassess your life. what does that do for you? temporary catharsis? a rush of dopamine that lasts mere seconds? chasing the high of harassing strangers will not undo what was done to you in the past.

as a dissociative- i only understand what dissociative plurality is like. i do not understand other forms of plurality. and you know what? i don't find the fact that other types of plurality existing offensive to me. it's just not. i've been very close friends with so many endogenic, spiritual, natural, etc. systems out there over the years. i have never found it offensive for anyone to say "oh hey i'm plural too!" and then explain a different plural experience than the one i have. thats why the term plural even exists, because it encompasses a broad range of plural experiences, not just dissociative ones.

like, to the dissociatives who are pissed off that endos exist: literally stay in dissociative disorder-centric spaces and tags. they're right there. you HAVE a community that you can interact with who understand exactly what you're going through. if it offends you that you find a VARIETY of plural experiences in the general plural community- that community isn't for you. like seriously. if it offends you that deeply that other types of plurality exist- the general plural community is not for you. it's literally not made for you if you can't except that numerous types of plurality exist. you have spaces you can occupy that ARE made 100% for people just like you. you can quite literally stay in spaces made for dissociative plurals only. like. you can do that. that's an option. and you can stop bullying other people out of spaces that they rightfully belong in.

trauma is never excuse to be a fucking jackass. it's perpetuating the cycle of abuse. that's nothing to be proud of. break the cycle. stop abusing people just because you were abused.

[anthonyeater]

So fucking sick of people calling it racist to point out the misogyny in men of color. You could choose to see it as protecting women of color but because you don’t care enough about us you’d prefer to see it as attacking men of color. It’s infuriating, black men have been my main terrorists in life because I am a black woman and those are the men I’ve been around. Am I racist if I notice that the way I experience misogyny at the hands of black men differs from that of my white counterparts?

Are we never going to discuss how vile men of color can be because of their race??? WHAT ABOUT THE WOMEN!!? The women in their communities being treated like less than human don’t give a fuck that you’re being “culturally sensitive” or whatever else. If you’ll turn a blind eye to the unique ways they are being oppressed, you don’t actually care to prioritize women.

I had to force myself through so much shame and fear to call the police on a man who was stalking me bc I didn’t wanna call the police on a black man. I didn’t report my rape bc I didn’t wanna call the police on a black man. And you know what, I fucking should have!! Those men were perfectly fine terrorizing and abusing a black woman! They had no sense of racial solidarity or protection for me. Why should I be trying to protect them from racism?!? I was trying so hard to not be “part of the problem” in perpetuating harassment and violence against black men that they got away with harassing and abusing me. I would hope that if a white woman had seen me being followed home and stalked she wouldn’t be afraid to call the police for me and report his ass. I would hope she saw it as protecting a black woman rather than “attacking/telling on a black man”

Call me an anti-nationalist but I hate India more than US (I know US is shitty, but I am talking about India). Corruption, Patriarchy, shitty rules, shitty people, I'll be happy if I leave this country.

Girls who want to travel India, don't even think about it. Rape cases are so high that people pull out shitty excuses and even, boys younger than 18 years have started to harass us! Still they're not captured!

"Don't kiss in public!"

"Don't go out at night!"

"No pda!"

"Don't dress like this!"

"Don't dress like that!"

Ugh! I'm fucking done! Even if you break one of these stupid rules, you're harassed by uneducated mobs.

So, I suggest to not visit India, because women are getting raped and no one is helping; they're blaming the victim.

[iheartsteve0704]

The Family Stone - Agathario AU

Rating: Teen & Up

Summary: Wanda brings her girlfriend Rio home for Christmas. The only problem is that she's not really Wanda's girlfriend and Rio is helplessly in love with Wanda's older sister, Agatha (who she can't even look in the eye).

Note: This is loosely based on the movie The Family Stone (2005)!! This is also not beta read, I'm sorry haha but I will probably go back and fix things!

“This is stupid, Wanda! Just tell them the truth!” Rio said as she jogged circles around Wanda who was struggling up the large hill. It was an unbearably hot day in California but somehow Rio still convinced her going for a run was a good idea. 

“I can’t! My mom thinks- and my sisters they- ugh please, Rio! Just this one last time. Please!!” Wanda had to stop, panting as she put her hands on her needs to catch her breath. She looked up at Rio and gave her an exaggerated pout. 

“No! Wanda, would they truly give a fuck if they knew you were single??” 

“I don’t know! I think my mom would be a little disappointed yeah but the point is that I told them like 2 months ago that you’d be coming with me so I cannot go back now! They’ll just bombarded me with a bunch of questions and grill me non-stop and it’ll truly be hell for that entire week.”

“DID YOU SAY 2 MONTHS AGO???” Rio’s jaw dropped, eyes almost building out of her head. She looked at the girl who has become her best friend in this shitty town and found that she couldn’t say no. They met years ago in a shitty bar and both got wasted and shared their deepest darkest secrets and they never spent a day without each other. They were like sisters at this point. That’s why fake dating her felt so weird. “Fine. Fine! But you fucking owe me.” 

“Yay!! I love you!” Wanda jumped up and kissed Rio on the cheek, who quickly wiped it off with the back of her hand. 

“And I’m out after this, I swear! This is the last time!!” Rio warned and Wanda just nodded her head as she tried to bite back her triumphant smile. 

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

“I can’t believe Wanda is really bringing her!” Agatha scoffs as she picks away at her salad. “She’s so… eccentric.”

She watches as her mom, Lilia, shuffles around the kitchen and tosses ingredients into a bowl. Agatha sees the slight up and down movement of her mom’s shoulders and knows she got a good chuckle out of that one. 

Wanda was the baby of the family and she is also the most MIA. She lives a luxurious life abroad doing business of some sorts when she’s not living it up in California. She rarely visits home and rarely answers her phone. The Harkness girls only found out Wanda had a girlfriend because one of the red head’s friends had tagged her in a questionable Facebook photo with a mystery brunette hanging off her arm. They kept grilling Wanda over the phone until she just admitted it. 

The youngest Harkness was similar to the eldest, hard to please and hard to tie down. So when Lilia caught word of her youngest’s new found love life, she was over the moon. Practically already imagining their wedding in her mind. 

Agatha found Wanda’s girlfriend, Rio, strange to say the least. No one has met her other than Agatha, for a brief moment in New York when Wanda was in for work and Rio had tagged along. Rio seemed antsy, almost nervous but Agatha was nothing but kind to her. The entire night was odd, Rio barely holding conversation with her or coding she existed. While it was only one night, it had been a long one and Agatha had told the rest of her family of the cautionary tale countless times, which they had all gotten a kick out of. 

Lilia doesn’t even bother wiping away her smirk when she turns around to grab the flour and address her eldest daughter. 

“Agatha, your sister is welcome to invite anyone she wants. Plus she’s pretty from the photos you’ve shown us.”

“She’s pretty? That’s enough for you? We don’t know anything about her! What if she’s like a serial killer???”

“Oh shush. We should just be happy your sister has finally found love!” 

“Love? Jesus, Mom. Do you really think that’s what this is?” 

“Well she’s inviting her home for Christmas. She’s never invited anyone home for the holidays before! And they’ve been together for over a year, right? Maybe she’ll ask for Grandma’s ring…”

“Grandma Evanora? She was a cunt. You were the one who told us that!” 

“She was! But the ring is to die for and Jen didn't want to give it to Alice! Someone has to take it or else I'll bring it to a pawn shop soon and move to Costa Rica!" They laugh together. 

“I don’t know about marriage. Rio is just so weird! And it felt like they had nothing in common! I mean come on Mom, you weren’t the one who had to endure that painful dinner with them. She kept doing this weird mouth thing where she’d poke the side of her cheek. And I swear to god that girl was staring into my soul! She wouldn’t even talk to me! She was so quiet, I felt like she was silently planning my demise.” 

“Oh be nice, Aggie. But… perhaps she was. You should probably sleep with one eye open, just to be safe.” Lilia tries to bite back a smile but they both end up laughing when the front door swings open. 

“Mom? Agatha? We’re here!!!” Jen says as walks through the door first with her wife, Alice, following behind with their adopted teen son, Billy. 

When they reach the kitchen it is a jumble of hugs and welcomes and then Jen is going up to Agatha and punching her hard in the arm before bringing her into a tight hug. 

“Hey loser, missed you kind of sort of.” Jen said as she hugged her sister and Agatha melted into her arms.

“Ew getting soft on me, Jenny? Grow up.” Agatha jokes and tickles her sister's sides before Jen playfully shoves her away. 

“And how’s my favorite nephew!” Agatha looks Billy up and down, taking in his new appearance. 

“I’m your only nephew Aunt Agatha.” Billy beams at her. 

“I see we’ve gone… goth!” She notices upclose that he is clearly wearing eyeliner and one singular hoop earring. 

Jen shoots her a warning look. 

“I um love it!” Agatha tries her best to be supportive and Billy must buy it because he just smiles widely and starts talking about his different rings and what eyeliner he likes using. 

“So is it true Aunt Wanda is bringing her weird girlfriend?” After talking Agatha’s ear off, Billy steals a bite of her salad and addresses the rest of the room. 

“Billy.” Alice turns and gives him a warning look. 

“What! It’s what Aunt Agatha keeps telling us! She’s weird!” Billy argues and then Alice turns to Jen for help but the woman tries and fails to hold in her laughter. 

“Yes she’s coming. Unfortunately” Jen chuckles and earns a smack painful smack on her bicep. Agatha and Billy laugh at Jen’s comment. 

“You two behave.” Lilia warns but there’s no bite to her voice. 

“We need to be open minded guys! It’s not easy being an outsider.” Alice adds.

“You’re one to talk! Mom welcomed you into this family the first week you guys started dating. Literally gave you the blessing to marry Jen the first time you came over for family dinner. ” Agatha says, stealing back her salad from Billy. 

“Okay! Whatever! I just mean let’s give her a chance!” Alice rolls her eyes. 

“Sure.” “Okay.” The two Harkness sisters say at the same time and Lilia gives them a warning look. 

“We’ll behave! Geez!” Jen puts her hands up in defense. 

“We’ll be perfect angels, mother.” Agatha’s voice is laced with sarcasm which earns her a whipped towel to the arm.

A car door slams. 

“Ooo! That must be them!!” Billy gets up from his seat next to Agatha at the kitchen island and moves towards the living room to peek through the curtains of the window. The women all follow behind him and do a poor job at pending not to catch a glimpse of the couple. 

They watch as Wanda steps out of her expensive car wearing a pressed suit, heels, and gucci sunglasses and then there is Rio. Rio who is wearing a chunky knit sweater that has probably seen better days, a pair of well worn jeans, and combat boots. They couldn’t have looked more dissimilar. 

Agatha had to check herself because she found herself lingering in Rio. The way her dark hair kept falling into her face. The last time she had seen her, her hair was bob length and now it was well past that and really suited her. Then her big brown eyes that she remembers so well that rarely met hers but she’s seen in photos. And then the way she looked so cozy in her outfit. Agatha convinced herself she was just noticing things about the girl. That was all. 

Wanda is directing Rio to pull their bags from the trunk and doesn’t even bother to help her as she starts making her way to the front door. The women, and Billy, panic and move around to all sit somewhere around the living to make it seem like they weren’t just watching them. 

“Family! Your favorite child is finally here!” Wanda says playfully and bounds through the door. They all go to hug her, Lilia holding onto her baby a little longer than the rest.

They all turn their heads when they hear the loud bang of suitcases hitting the floor. An awkward Rio stands in the doorway, expression unreadable. 

“Guys, this is Rio. My… girlfriend!” Wanda smiles over at the brunette. 

They all introduce themselves and Rio acknowledges them with a polite nod and smile, very limited words. Billy looks over at Agatha and they share a look, biting back laughter. Then Lilia tries to go in for the hug and before Rio could reject, she’s being crushed into a tight embrace. 

When it’s Agatha’s turn, the younger woman freezes and she can feel her cheeks start to turn pink. She stares at Agatha momentarily with a gaped, surprised expression and wide eyes before her gaze casts down to the floor.

Agatha watches this happen but assumes it's her nerves, Agatha was a very intimidating presence that she’s been told about time and time again. Lilia gives a pointed look to her eldest daughter who sighs dramatically and takes a step closer to address Rio. 

“We’ve met once before but you probably forgot since it was so long ago. I’m Agatha.” She tries but the younger girl just glances down at her feet and says nothing. Agatha cocks her eyebrow up at this. Everyone stands there uncomfortably. 

“Okay then!!! Everyone is here and must be starving! Go ahead and pick your rooms and freshen up, I’ve left fresh linens on the bed but let me know if you need anything else. I’ll have dinner ready in half an hour.” Lilia claps her hands together and it gets everyone moving throughout the house. 

Everyone has dispersed but Agatha and Rio. Agatha, being the first to arrive, was already settled in and decided on reading her new book. 

Agatha can feel a pair of eyes on her and she knows they belong to the younger girl. After a moment, out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but watch Rio struggle to gather Wanda’s luggage. She looks away when she hears the faint footsteps of Rio going up the stairs. 

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

Later at dinner, the Harkness girls are all catching up and having a ball while doing so. Telling stories about their separate lives and then laughing until their stomachs ache over reliving old ones. 

When the conversation dies down, Lilia takes it upon herself to lead the next conversation. 

“So Rio, tell us about yourself! What do you do for work?” Lilia looks over at the brunette who was slouched in her chair and extremely quiet this whole time. 

Rio looks up and she looks almost startled to be called on. She tries to paint on a smile and looks around the table until she realizes Agatha is staring right at her and brown eyes looks down at her plate as she pushes around the food nervously before speaking. 

“I’m a botanist.”  Rio’s voice is small but sure and all the women around the table hum and nod their head at her answer. 

“What? Like you work at Home Depot or something?” Billy asks but both his mom’s end up smacking him on the back of the head. 

Agatha snickers at the comment but Lilia kicks her under the table. 

“Rio actually works for the government! She leads the botany team at the US Forest Service. She’s a big shot, aren’t you honey?

“Well that’s very impressive! What a cool job!” 

Rio smiles at Lilia but doesn’t elaborate, choosing to look back down at her plate.  

“Agatha is a teacher!” Jen says and Agatha looks up at her in question. “Agatha, didn’t you tell us you were teaching your kids about trees?” 

Agatha glares daggers at her but Jen just smiles over at Rio. 

“Oh that’s nice. It’s important for kids to learn about nature and how to treat our planet.” Rio addresses Agatha, looking at her briefly before looking away again. Everyone waits for Agatha to say something but it never comes so Jen clears her throat. 

“So Agatha, guess who we saw on the way here?” Jen looks over at their oldest sister, mischief glimmering in her eyes. 

“Oh god, who?” Agatha rolls her eyes in response, knowing she’ll hate whatever is to come. 

“Dottie! And she looks great and I heard she’s single again.” 

“Oh I loved Dottie! She always let me check out as many books as I wanted at the library. She actually still does! I think she’s holding out for you, Aggie.” Lilia smiles at her daughter who rolls her eyes again in disgust. 

Wanda laughs and glaces at Rio beside her  and sees the brunette white knuckling the fork in her hand. She raises her eyebrow at the action and gives Rio’s shoulder a little shove, which seems to knock her out of her thoughts. Rio gives her best friend, and fake girlfriend, an unconvincing smile. 

“Well she can keep holding out because that’s never going to happen again.” Agatha says as her mom and sisters groan. 

“You’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.” Lilila says from the goodness of her heart but still it pisses Agatha off. 

“Well thanks mom!” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it! I just mean you deserve a nice woman in your life to make you happy! Or man! If that’s of interest to you!”

“Oh fuck no! No men. No thank you. No offense, Billy.” 

“None taken. I get it. Straight men are a nightmare.” He says and everyone erupts into laughter. 

Agatha looks over at Rio and assumes she’s staring at her again but instead she’s laughing at something Wanda whispers into her ear. Agatha pushes down the disappointment she feels inside because it’s stupid, why should she feel that way.

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

Rio offers to do the dishes after dinner and Billy volunteers to dry. The rest of the Harkness ladies are cooped up in the living room, laughing loudly at a stupid story they tell every time they’re together but never gets old. 

“Hey. It’s nice having you here.” Billy says sweetly and it genuinely makes Rio smile. 

“Thanks. It’s nice being here. Your family is so great.” 

“They are.What’s your family like? Are they upset you aren’t spending the holidays with them?” 

“I don’t- um. My family, they passed when I was super young. I grew up in the foster system and then aged out and that was pretty much it. No other family other than… Wanda.” Rio says and she means it. Wanda was her best friend, her family.

“Oh I’m sorry.” Billy feels flustered but Rio offers him a smile to know it’s okay. “I was in foster care too. For a long time actually. My parents died in a car crash and I didn’t have any other family. I thought I was just going to age out, like you, but on my 10th birthday the agency told me two lesbians wanted to adopt me and I met them and couldn’t say no. Alice and Jen, they’re just the best.” He smiles to himself, recalling back to that special day. 

“That’s sweet. I’m happy for you. They seem like really great mothers.” 

“They really are.” Billy kept the wide smile on his face when he looked over to the living room where his moms are cuddled together on the couch.

“You’re nice to talk too. It just feels easy. You remind me so much of my Aunt Agatha.” 

“Oh? How come?” Rio keeps her voice neutral, busying herself by washing off a plate that was already clean. 

“I don’t know. Something about your energies are similar. I think you’d get along with her if you gave her a chance. She’s not as scary as she pretends to be. She’s a big softie. Promise.” Billy says and Rio just nods her head. 

Rio chances a glance into the living room and catches Agatha throwing her head back in laughter. She looked so beautiful it made Rio’s chest contract in her chest. She then saw movement to Agatha’s left and caught Wanda watching her with a curious look. Rio quickly looked away and went back to washing the dishes.

—————————————————

When everyone is turning in for the night, Rio walks into the bedroom she’s being forced to share with Wanda (since they are a ‘couple’) to find Wanda sitting on the bed with her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. 

“You’re into her! Aren’t you!!” Wanda whispers but still gets shushed by Rio.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Rio covers her hand over her mouth, tackling her onto the bed. She releases her hand when Wanda tries to bit it and they end up sitting next to each other. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Surreeeeeeeeeee.” Wanda raises her eyebrows. “How did I not know this! How long?! Oh my gosh you need to tell her!”

“Are you insane?! I’m here as YOU’RE fake girlfriend! Remember?!” Rio reminds her and it seems to bring Wanda back to reality who makes an ‘O’ shape with her mouth in realization. 

“Fuck, yeah. You’re right.” Wanda taps her chin before looking back at her with a wide smile. “BUT YOU DO LIKE HER! YOU DIDN’T DENY IT! Oh my god. If you guys get married then you’re forced to be in my life forever!! OH MY GOD WE WOULD ACTUALLY BE SISTERS!!! AND THEN WE COULD-” Wanda’s voice is getting louder and louder in excitement until Rio grabs one of the pillows and shoves it over Wanda’s face, effectively silencing her. For only a minute before she resurfaces. 

“So when??” Wanda smiles and Rio just groans and leans back onto the bed and covers her face with her hands. “WHEN DID YOU START LIKING HER!!!???” 

“If I answer you will you finally shut up?!” Rio glares at her but Wanda’s smile persists, nodding her head. “When we met her for dinner like a year ago.” 

“THAT LONG AGO?!??! OH MY-” Wanda can’t finish her sentence because a fluffy pillow meets her face again. 

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

Late at night, Agatha is scrolling aimlessly on her phone when her door cracks open. She’s about to reach for the baseball bat behind the dresser when Wanda and Jen all sneak into Agatha's room. They squeal as they snuggle under the covers and into their older sister. Agatha complains about their cold feet and hands but secretly loves it. They lay in silence for a couple of minutes just enjoying each other's company as they stare blankly at the ceiling. 

“Can I ask you something?” Agatha asks, turning her head towards Wanda, who nods her head. 

“What’s Rio’s deal?” Agatha starts and the mention of the girl makes Wanda look over.  “She doesn't acknowledge my existence. Does she just hate me so much that she can’t talk to me directly?” 

Agatha looks at her baby sister who worries about her bottom lip between her teeth before looking back up towards the ceiling. 

“She spoke to you a little!” Jen tried but Agatha looks at her “okay yeah it was… weird.” Jen comments and Wanda groans, shoving her face into the pillow below her.

“She just seems pretentious to me. Like she thinks she’s better than us.” Agatha adds.

“Better than you, you mean.” Jen adds and Agatha pinches her side. 

“Yeah whatever. I don’t like that she keeps staring at me and not saying anything. It’s just… unsettling.” 

“She’s nice but it takes a minute for her to warm up to you but she’s a great person. No matter what you guys think about her. Just give her a chance.” Wanda makes it a point to look at Agatha when she says the last part. “She could surprise you.”  

Agatha rolls her eyes before pulling the covers tighter around herself and snuggling closer to her sisters until they all fall asleep. 

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

In the early morning, Lilila is walking around the house looking for her girls when she finds them curled up in Agatha’s bed like when they were little. It warms her heart so much and she can’t help but whip her phone out and take a photo. She blames her age for forgetting to turn her sound off. 

The girls stir awake and audibly and dramatically whine when they see their mom smiling in the doorway, phone in hand. 

“MOOMMM!!!!!!” The girls shout and Lilila laughs before taking a few more photos and putting her phone away. 

“Okay! Okay! My goodness! Still my little witches!! I’m going to get breakfast started my loves, it’ll be ready in about an hour. Go back to sleep.” She smiles, looking over her kids one more time before closing the door and making her way downstairs. 

She turns the corner into the kitchen when she’s startled by Rio sitting at the kitchen island sipping on some coffee. 

“I’m sorry.” Rio says looking quilty and starting to get up from the stool to leave. 

“Hey! No, it’s okay!” Lilia recovers. “Please stay! I was just going to get breakfast started.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Oh that would be so lovely, thank you Rio.” 

They cook together with ease. Rio slowly drops knowledge of her amazing cooking skills that thoroughly impress the mother of 3. Lilia also learns that Rio actually is a lot more talkative than she lets on and that Rio is actually a really nice and funny girl. While all that is true, she doesn't quite understand how Rio fits with Wanda. Lilia can see now more than ever how different they are but she decides to put that on the back burner for now. If anything, Rio seemed more similar to Agatha. They had a similar sense of humor and something about Rio reminded Lilia a lot of her eldest in a way.

“My Jenny and her wife Alice have been together for 8 years now and they have a lovely son, who you met yesterday. And now Wanda has you and all that is left is my Aggie.” Lilia says, smiling over at Rio who was flipping a pancake on the stove top. 

“Has she ever um-” Rio stutters over her words but Lilia gets what she’s asking. 

“Aggie has always been a tough cookie. She’s a hopeless romantic, don’t tell her I said that to you but I think she’s really waiting for that perfect person. You know?”

“And do you think it was that Dottie person you mentioned last night?” Rio asks. 

“Oh no.” Lilia chuckles. “We just like to mess with her. Dottie was Agatha’s first girlfriend and things got super messy when Dottie broke up with Agatha to be with a boy she swore she didn’t like.” 

“That’s messed up.”

“Yeah it was.” Lilia thinks it over. “Since Dottie, she hasn’t brought anyone else home or mentioned someone so we just all assume she isn’t seeing anyone serious at the moment. Unless she’s hiding a secret family inside her tiny apartment in New York.” 

“Are you talking shit about me again, mom?” Agatha yawns when she walks in, stretching her arms above her head and causing her t-shirt to ride up to expose her midriff. Rio’s eyes go to the exposed skin and she swallows a lump in her throat, looking breathless before clearing her throat and looking back towards the stove. Lilia watches this all unfold and raises her eyebrow. 

Jen walks in with her arms draped around Billy and Alice and Wanda follows behind. Wanda awkwardly walks up next to Rio and kisses her on the cheek. 

“So I was thinking of doing something fun tonight.” Jen says as she walks over to the coffee maker and pours her and Alice a cup. 

“Ew.” Billy, Agatha, and Wanda all say in unison. 

“Not that your pervs. I mean go out! I think we should go to Mephisto’s tonight!” 

“That gross hometown bar? We’re bound to see at least 18 people Agatha’s slept with or ghosted.” Wanda says and it earns her a scolding glare from her older sister. 

“Yeah no, I’m not stepping foot in that place. You’re out of your fucking mind, Jenny.” 

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

Mephisto’s was so fucking crowded. Of course it was, it was Christmas so that meant everyone and their mothers would be back home for the holidays looking to escape their families and get wasted. 

“This is hell on Earth. Why are we doing this right now???” Agatha looks around and doesn’t even try to hide the disgust on her face. 

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun!!” Alice hugs Agatha and tries to get her to smile but it doesn’t work. “I’ll get us all a round of shots!” 

“Okay now you're talkin my language, sister.” Agatha finally lets up, smiling as Alice and Jen walk over to the bar. Now it was just Agatha, Wanda, and Rio. 

Wanda was too busy typing away on her phone to acknowledge they were even there and Agatha resumed her mission of figuring out what Rio’s problem was with her. Agatha turned in Rio’s direction and took in her form. She was wearing tight black jeans, those ratty combat boots again, and a tight low cut black long sleeve that (Agatha hated to admit this but she was a woman lover, sue her) did great things for her chest. Rio looked pretty. 

Just when Agatha was going to try to make conversation with the younger girl, a short red head in a tight tank top approached them and all but threw herself onto Wanda. 

“What the- Nat?! Is that you??” Wanda pulled the figure back and smiled widely at the tiny red head in front of her. 

“Long time no see stranger.” Natasha winked at Wanda which caused the taller redhead to laugh nervously, a response both Agatha and Rio both had never seen before. 

Natasha brings Wanda into another hug that lasts a little too long and looks a little too intimate. It’s Agatha who clears her throat and makes the two separate, giving Wanda a murderous look and tilting her head towards Rio. 

“Shit sorry! Nat, this is my um my girlfriend, Rio.” Rio just gives Natasha a tight lipped smile and nods her head. 

“Lucky girl, Rio. Would you mind if I had a little dance with your girl?” Natasha is already pulling Wanda towards the dance floor before Rio could even answer. 

Agatha shakes her head and rolls her eyes before checking on Rio, who doesn't even look bothered at all by what just happened but Agatha still feels the need to say something, anything to break the awkward tension. 

“Hey. You look really nice tonight!” Agatha offers a warm smile but when brown eyes finally meet hers they are unreadable. It makes Agatha’s smile falter and before she can apologize or say anything, Rio is pushing past her and walking towards the exit. 

“What the hell did you just say to her?” Alice and Jen arrive back as soon as she leaves with a tray of shots. 

“Nothing. I don’t even- excuse me.” Agatha is frustrated and finds herself following Rio’s trail. 

When the cold air hits her, she sees Rio leaning against the car they all arrived in smoking. Agatha, filled with anger, approaches her with a scowl on her face. 

“What’s your fucking problem?!” Agatha shouts and it scares Rio, who jolts back against the car and causes her cigarette to fall into the snow below her. “I’ve been trying to be nice to you this whole time but you have some fucking stick up your ass and can’t even look me in the eye because what? You’re so much better than me? It’s below you to even acknowledge my existence???” 

In response, Rio just scoffs looking away and shaking her head. 

“Huh?! What is it then? What’s your fucking problem with me, Rio?!!” 

Rio finally looks over at Agatha and for a minute she swears she sees something flicker in those brown eyes, something she knew she shouldn’t want.

“Nothing, Agatha.” Rio FINALLY speaks to Agatha but it’s not enough. Rio goes to walk past her and back into the bar when Agatha roughly grabs her wrist and pulls her back, making their bodies collide together. Agatha’s breath hitches at the contact and Rio’s eyes gaze down at Agatha’s lips. Agatha reaches up, cupping her face gently with her breath becoming shallow. Then something takes over her when Rio melts into her touch, her face pushing into her hand. Agatha finds the courage to bring her thumb to Rio’s plump lower lip and the way Rio’s eyes bore into her own create a fire within her. It’s Rio who starts to lean in when the loud sound of giggles tumble out of the bar and they force themselves a part. 

Agatha looks over and see’s Wanda and Natasha practically intertwined, leaning against the building and kissing. Agatha makes it a point to pull the car keys out of her pocket and relock the car, making Wanda’s head snap up and knowing she’s been caught red handed. 

Rio pulls Wanda aside. Tells her this is stupid, that Wanda should be able to fuck Natasha without feeling obligated to keep up the fake girlfriend facade and Wanda just agrees, being tired of the act (horny). She lets Rio break up with her that night, loud enough for her sisters to hear. 

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

The next morning, Rio is lugging her own suitcases down the stairs and heading towards the front door. 

“Rio, you don’t have to leave! Please stay for Christmas. No one should spend the holidays alone. We can even padlock Wanda into her room if it’ll make you feel more comfortable.” Lilia jokes with a warm smile and it does make Rio chuckle. 

“I love Wanda.” Rio says and she means it. “I always will. No bad blood, I promise. Thank you for welcoming me into your home. It meant so much, thank you again Ms. Harkness.” 

“Please! It’s Lilia! And at least let… ah Agatha! There you are dear. Can you drive Rio to the train station please.” Agatha just came down the stairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she sees Rio with her suitcases it seems to fully wake her up.

“Yeah. Of course.” Agatha doesn’t even let Rio get a word in before grabbing one of the suitcases and going out to her car. 

The ride is eerily quiet except for the soft tunes of the Christmas radio. They arrive at the station after a few minutes and sit in silence. Rio suddenly goes to pull the door open but Agatha speaks up. 

“I’m sorry about Wanda.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Is it?”

“Yeah. We weren’t meant to be.” Rio says truthfully, fiddling with her fingers. They fall quiet again when Rio reaches for the door again. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” “Thanks for the ride.”

Rio lets go of the door handle and makes an action to look over at Agatha but instead looks down at the console between them. 

“Agatha.” 

“You almost kissed me last night.” Agatha tries to duck down and look at Rio. “Hey. Can you please look at me.” Agatha slowly reaches out, her pointer finger touching Rio’s chin and tilting her head up until brown eyes meet blue. Agatha can drown in those eyes if Rio would let her. 

“And you almost let me.” Rio’s voice is barely over a whisper.  

Agatha’s eyes soften and her eyes fall to Rio’s lips. Agatha lets out a shaky breath before leaning in. Her breath hitches when Rio cups her face with her right hand. 

“Agatha. I need to tell you something.” Rio starts but a loud knock is heard on the driver’s window. 

They pull apart and Agatha turns a murderous look towards the window and sees Dottie smiling and waving from the other side. Agatha closes her eyes, letting out a sigh, before rolling the window down. 

“Dottie. What do I owe this pleasure?” Agatha says with an annoyed tone that Dottie doesn’t seem to catch on to. 

“I heard you were back in town but I had to see it for myself! How are you? You look really… hot.” Dottie smirks, leaning on the window and purposefully flashing her cleavage towards Agatha who rolls her eyes and leans back in her seat to create space. 

“My train is here.” 

Rio rushes out of the car before Agatha could stop her. 

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

When Agatha gets back, everyone is in the living room. Wanda is sitting in the arm chair that had been moved to the center while everyone takes their turns berating her. 

“I knew you were a cunt but this is next level, Wanda!” Jen scolds and Lilia smacks her arm for the bad language. 

“Sweetie, you should’ve just broken up with her instead of cheating! Cheaters are the WORST type of people and I know that isn’t you. Wanda you are better than that!” Lilia says desperately, looking at her daughter with so much disapproval and it makes Wanda sink in her seat. 

“I’m actually disgusted with you. I can’t even look at you!” Jen adds and Wanda puts her head in her hands, staring at the ground. 

Agatha makes her presence known, walking into the living room with caution and they all turn towards her. Wanda sits straighter in her seat when she sees the look on Agatha’s face. 

“She told you. Didn’t she?” Wanda asks and they all look at her in confusion. 

“What are you talking about?” Agatha asks. 

Wanda sighs and comes to terms with her actions, realizing it’s better to confess than be seen as a cheater (which she’d never be). 

“She was never my girlfriend! Okay!” 

“WHAT?!” The Harkness women shout and stare at the youngest. 

“What the hell do you mean by that?!” Agatha gets closer, crossing her hands over her chest. 

“I mean… ugh. Okay. So. We were just pretending to be together to get you guys off my case. We never dated. We never even hooked up. She’s strictly my best friend. That’s it.” Wanda explains and the room falls quiet. Agatha moves to sit on the couch where Alice and Billy resided, cradling her head in her hands and thinking. 

“You didn’t have to do that, my love. We don’t care if you’re seeing someone or not. It doesn’t matter. So long you’re happy.” Lilia softens and smiles at her youngest, who smiles back. 

“I told you, mom. You owe me $30 bucks.” Billy whispers to Alice and Agatha whips her head up to look at her nephew. 

“You knew???” 

“It was kind of obvious. From the lack of PDA to the way Rio would practically drool when you walked into a room. I mean I thought we ALL knew.” Billy says.

“Drool? What are you talking about? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s like 10 years younger than me.” Agatha asks and Billy just stares at her. Agatha looks around the room for help and they are all giving her the same look. 

“I did notice her oolging you too and thought it was odd since at the time I thought she was with Wanda but it makes a lot of sense now.” Lilila agrees, sitting on the arm of the chair Wanda was sitting in. Moving the red hair out of her face and kissing the top of her head. She whispers ‘my baby’ into her temple and the youngest throws her arms around her waist. 

“Agatha.” Wanda speaks up and they look at each other. “She likes you. A lot. That’s her problem with you. The problem is that she’s liked you since we met for dinner all that time ago. The problem is she likes you too much.” 

Agatha’s mouth falls open, a whole new world has just been opened to her and she feels frozen in place. 

Then before she can comprehend what is happening, she is being pulled up from her seat and shoved into the car. They all manage to fit into Jen’s van and they zoom down the street. 

“Where are we going!?!? It’s Christmas morning?!” Agatha asks, still in shock of what was happening. 

“We are getting you the girl!!” Billy smiles as she says so, pointing to the train station once they arrive. 

Agatha’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. 

“No.” Agatha says weakly. 

“What? You don’t like her?” Wanda raises her eyebrow. Agatha doesn’t say anything but looks down at her ratty uggs boots they shoved onto her feet before leaving the house. “Then go get her!” 

“Her train already left. I saw it leave.” Agatha said, feeling her heart break at the memory. Trying to get rid of Dottie but she wasn’t fast enough. 

They fall silent, taking in the moment but then Alice sits up in her seat. 

“Wait. Isn’t that her?” Alice says and they all crowd the left side of the car windows until Agatha pushes her way through to see and it is her. Rio sitting sadly on a bench, kicking her feet and wiping away a tear. 

Agatha is pushing through the bodies and throwing herself out of the car. She rushes the station and all but body slams into Rio and brings her into a tight hug. 

Rio is alarmed at first, scared she was just attacked by a stranger but she notices the hair and the waft of her scent and melts into her arms. They stay there for a moment before Agatha pulls back and cradles her face in her hands. 

“What about Dottie?” Rio’s voice is so small and then Agatha laugh and Rio starts to shrink away.

“There’s nothing there. She’s no one. I promise.” Agatha says, watching the way Rio looked so unsure at first but finds confidence after Agatha’s confession.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Agatha says, voice laced with longing. 

“Well I was fake dating your sister.” Rio says plainly but a small smirk on her face. 

“You’ve really liked me all this time?” Rio just nods her head and Agatha settles with a sweet smile on her face. 

“Sorry if that’s lame.” Rio laughs, looking down at her sneakers but Agatha forces her eyes up. Face serious. 

“It’s not.” Agatha assures her. “It’s romantic.”

“I- You’re so beautiful, Agatha.” Rio says almost breathlessly and Agatha can’t help herself when she crashes her lips together and kisses her deeply and it immediately feels like coming home even though this is their first kiss.

Rio throws her arms around Agatha’s neck and Agatha tilts her head, changing the angle of the kiss and slides her tongue inside. They are making unholy noises in a public space but they don’t care. They only pull a part when they hear the sound of a loud horn and people cheering. They look over and see the Harkness clan hanging out the window and cheering them on. 

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

Two Years Later:

“Class please welcome our guest for today! My special friend, wildness explorer Rio!” Agatha stands at the front of the class, clapping along with her students who all cheer when Rio walks in in a silly outfit Agatha made her wear. She has on tan khakis, a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red scarf wrapped around her neck. Agatha wanted her to wear a boy scout sash too but Rio drew the line there. 

Rio planned on being bratty about the situation but once she saw the excited faces of Agatha’s first grade class, she couldn’t find it within her anymore. They were all so cute and ecstatic to be learning about nature and it warmed her heart. 

She settled at the front of the class, asking them to join her on the reading carpet, as she read to them a kids book about plants. She was using silly voices for each character and it made all the kids giggle. She glances over at Agatha, who was biting back a wide smile as she watched her with loving and adoring eyes. 

Agatha had on her big glasses, that were now slipping down her nose, and Rio's heart felt like it was bursting through her chest and she hated to admit this (it being inapropriate in this moment) but she was always endlessly turned on when she slide her glasses on her face.

When the last bell rang indicating the end of the school day, the kids didn’t want to part with Rio but Agatha promised she would be back soon. Once all the kids had been picked up or shipped onto a school bus, Agatha started to gather her stuff as Rio collected the things she brought to the classroom. 

“Oh wilderness explorer Rio?” Agatha sing songed and Rio turned, to see the woman all ready to go. Perched on the side of her desk, arms crossed, not even hiding that face that she was checking Rio out. She crooked her finger, asking Rio to come closer. 

Rio smirked, leaving the books on the floor, and slotted herself between Agatha’s legs. Agatha pulled her in closer, roughly by tugging on her neck scarf, and kissed her simply before pulling back a little. Rio tried to go in for another but Agatha put a hand on her chest, stopping her. 

“When we get home, I want you in our bed with this-” Agatha tugs again on the scarf, “on you, nothing else, and I want you to put a baby in me.” 

Agatha bites the bottom of her lip, knowing the darkening look in Rio’s eyes. She yelps when Rio kisses her hungrily and then grabs Agatha’s bag, slinging it over her one shoulder and picking up Agatha and slinging her over the other. Rio’s smacks her as playfully before leaving the comfort of Agatha’s classroom and bringing her home. 

Much, much later when Agatha is happily fucked and staring down at her sleeping girlfriend, she reached over for her phone and pull up her mom's contact.

Agatha: Hey Mom! So about Grandma's ring...

[theinfinitedivides]

Regarding your recent post, I'm not even shocked that a certain section of this fandom are still trying to pretend Assad fans are any more anti black than Sam fans. I've seen plenty of anti blackness from all corners of this fandom, from both Lestat and Armand fans. But somehow weirdos think Sam fans are woke and progressive in comparison? there were Samstat fans who wrote disgusting fanfic of Louis calling other black people 'gorillas' for fuck's sake and specifically to prop up Lestat. There were Loustaters who thought it was a brilliant idea to go to a slave plantation so they can pose for their OTP photos. The Lestat fans who gloated about Claudia finally getting what she deserved, until they decided to use her as a prop for lestat sympathy post s2. But it's convenient for them to focus all that energy and blame solely on Assad and all his fans, because it suits the narrative they've already developed in their minds.

When people were making rape jokes about Assad's character, I recognized some of those blogs. One of them was a Loustater who I distinctly remember talking about Assad derisively. Because according to this fan, he's supposedly replacing Jacob next season. Which is an insane take like these people do know who next season about right? It's supposed to be a TVL adaptation and Armand does have appearances in that story. But here's the thing, they don't mention Sam at all. Now why would they claim Assad (a brown actor who has already has been sidelined repeatedly in marketing and nominations) has more potential to replace Jacob and not Sam, who Rolin already stated was going to be the lead in s3? When AMC has already pushed for more samstat presence in s2?

Let's be real here, some of these people live vicariously through the Jacob/Sam dynamic and the validation they feel from it that they are resentful of obstacles to that. Even if it's another actor of color potentially sharing more scenes with Sam in the future. This is also why they took that rpf poll so seriously ("if you don't vote for my preferred coworker ship, you're anti black") It wasn't just this blog, literally other people who were downplaying the racism for the awards snubs were very similar in that they are very invested in jam conspiracies and/or more lenient towards Sam and other white actors on the show. This bias has been called out by several black fans who I follow.

IWTV fandom directs a very noticable amount of vitriol towards the cast of color on this show. And yes, this includes the Muslim brown actor who fans see as the source of all their problems apparently. Fans behave like they can pick or choose what is racism or not with the marketing and nominations. Jacob, Delainey and Assad have all been subjected to all kinds of nasty remarks that are racist and colorist before this season even began.

It is possible to care about both anti blackness and racism against South Asians. It's absolutely important that both are addressed. But I guess these fans think that only one of these issues matter while continuing to bootlick a white corporation. It's sad and transparent what's really going on here.

A SECOND IWTV FANDOM READ HAS HIT MY INBOX. I REPEAT A SECOND IWTV FANDOM READ HAS HIT MY INBOX. someone call the fire department y'all trying to burn down my house with this one hold on

first off. idk where all of you are coming from with these good good takes but keep making them and keep reading the hypocritical fuckers in this fandom for filth while you're at it bc you are right and true and correct. we have seen shit on all sides bc having your pet character to hide behind doesn't change the fact that your ass is racist, but there's something about the racism from so-called Sam fans that is like. how do you even come up with that. how do you look at what you just said and think that's ok to post. and most times it is about making the South Asian Muslim actor the big bad, just like how here in the US racist pasty ass motherfuckers hear 'terrorist' and immediately conjure up images of folks from the SWANA region/South Asian subcontinent. it's othering. he's not like us so we can use him as a punching bag and pin everything we think is wrong in the fandom on him

living vicariously through the Jam dynamic................................ anon truer words have never been spoken. i get it. maybe they latched on too hard to the unholy trinity of the Loustat + Claudia family in the early days of s1 before that went down the drain and mother and daughter headed off to Paris and so they love seeing Jacob and Sam interact for promos irl. for those Jam fans who might see this listen to me. i am holding y'all very gently rn. go outside and touch grass there is no fucking reason whatsoever for you to get so delusional about two coworkers/work besties that you will use that to give the corporation propping up the white half in content he is not meant to be submitted for over the other members of the cast a free-for-all pass. no. it's like using fly swatters in this place the amount of messages i've had to delete from my inbox this week bc they all start with some variant of 'but Sam' and i do not have the spoons to answer that foolishness again

jumping all around your ask in terms of the order in which i make these points so i apologize but heading back to the Loustat blogs that have it out for Assad for whatever reason (specifically the ones making SA jokes about Armand)—i remember seeing that post and just being instantly horrified. i'm talking cold sweats level of freaked the fuck out. just bc you think AMC is going to use the shift in main vamp focus to possibly give Armand slightly more screentime that means he's going to replace Louis and therefore you can now wish things i wouldn't wish on my worst enemy on him. what the actual fuck. in my mind there is a spectrum and this shit is on one end and the rabid Marius stans are on the other and they are both equivalently bad. those two are shaking hands in the center over ways to violate and overlook Brown bodies and ykw i'm tired of not naming names so i'll name the ones who made these statements in the first place (note: i'm putting them below the cut at the very end of this ask bc i don't want anyone to be triggered by that kind of vileness as a jumpscare when i still have things left to say. not worth it.)

ykw honestly the obvious attempt to get Black and South Asian IWTV fans to split down the middle over whose blorbo/actor experiences more racism is disgusting. it's just like when they're always trying to get the diaspora (mainly African-Americans + Caribbean people of African descent, although i have seen them get the West African brethren involved) to start infighting over stupid shit bitch when the cops pull us both over they're not going to ask for a geography lesson. they won't ask us if we immigrated or if our family's been here since before the fucking Civil War. they'll shoot us both and call it an encounter where the two of us were resisting and they feared for their fucking life, like they always do. kicking Assad to the curb to lift up Jacob or vice-versa is not going to get you brownie points with the other infinite amount of racists on this hellsite it'll just buy you time until they decide to kick you to the curb when you open your mouth (if you open your mouth) and point out anything about their blorbo + the way AMC is choosing to promote said blorbo. frankly not even bootlicking anymore we're deepthroating that shit all the way to the back no gag reflex. get up. your Islamophobic xenophobic posting and 'pick a side' propaganda is not the slay you think it is

(note: the Armand SA post in question is below this marker. if you think a trigger warning applies, it probably does. stay safe. don't open this shit if you can't handle it. i'll drop the usernames in the comments for extra precaution regardless)

i had to unblock their asses to get this and then i blocked them right back. fuck me for even having to see this again but i did it for a good cause

[thewistlingbadger]

Adding onto this. Silco is probably THE definition of "it's not always about the money spiderman." I hate the take that he's only doing things for his own self interest because it so violently goes against what we're told about him. If Silco was truly in it for the personal power, money, influence, etc, he could and WOULD have stopped a long time ago. If it's just about ego then he doesn't need Zaun to become independent. If he only cared about zaun independence for his own glory and not for his own people then he'd be no better than the chem barons, and we see how Silco views them as parasites who are beneath Silco. Silco loves Zaun for what it is, which is why his vision of a better Zaun is not a Zaun with peace, it's a Zaun with freedom. Silco sees nothing wrong with the under city's chaos and violence, which is why he perpetuates both and doesn't try to stop either. This contrasts Vi, who as a child viewed Zaun as being inferior to Piltover. This contrasts Ekko, who actively tries to improve upon the Undercity. Silco is devoted to his nation not in spite of its flaws but because of its flaws. To him, it's perfect as is, the only problem is that they're oppressed. Silco already views Zaun and Piltover as equals even though they don't have equal power or influence or ability. To him, Zaun is just as good and potentially better than Piltover. All they need is a chance to excel, the opportunity to rise above the hardships that they wouldn't have if not for Piltover. Silco's okay with putting down and harming individual zaunites if it means the collective group will be better off. It's why he sees no problem with shimmer, because even though it's actively destroying the community, it's boosting their economy and furthering themselves from Piltover.

Silco's hatred for topside really can't be understated. It's important to remember that his generation grew up in a much worse zaun. Of course he's willing to use any means necessary to be free from those assholes, especially after all he's sacrificed and the sacrifices of others he's witnessed. Silco seems to really admire his generation for all the shit they had to put up with. He tells Finn before zaun became an enterprise all they had was the loyalty of zaunite brothers and sisters helping each other. "And now I'm forced to share the air with parasites like you who leech off their memory." Personally, in light of season 2, this line makes extra sense because of Felicia. Felicia was one of Silco's closest friends and she laid down her life fighting for the cause ("so you'll die for a cause, but you won't fight for one?!" Now this line makes more sense too), she's the perfect example of a true Zaunite. Silco also used the gray against the chem barons to not only highlight his superiority to them but also to once again differentiate between his generation and the newer generation.

"Oh, you don't recognize it? Have you forgotten where we came from? The mines they had us in? Air so thick it clogged your throat, stuck in your eyes? I pulled you all from the depths and offered you a taste of topside and fresh air. I gave you life. Purpose. But now you've grown fat and complacent. Too much time in the sun. We came from a world where there was never enough to go around, Finn. That is why we fight."

Yes silco does have his own ego and he is doing things for his own selfish interests but he's not doing things ONLY for himself. His own selfishness is truly not his priority, it's the nation of zaun. "I'm doing this for us, Jinx. For the sons and daughters of Zaun."

I don't see Silco as someone who "lost his way" bc there's no evidence to suggest that this wasn't always his way. We know that he wasn't once always this fucked up and evil but from my perspective he's always been the radicalist. He's always been the one behind the Nation of Zaun, the one that's always been willing to do anything to get his goal. Not even the death of Felicia stopped him or even gave him any pause from pursuing his goal. And of course it didn't, Felicia is the one that told him "I don't care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock covered in blisters." Additionally, silco does just see himself as better than the chem barons, he sees himself as better than most zaunites too. Silco has literally gone through hell and back and is now the most powerful man in the undercity. If he can do that, then what's other people's excuse? Of course he's toying with the drug addicts, to him they're the weakest link in the zaunite societal chain. He's literally standing above them as they're at his feet. The fact that some of these drug addicts where Vander supporters also plays into I think (we know at least Huck had a past with Vander). Another reason why I think he sees himself as superior is because he's basically the only person actively trying to get independence. When Vander was their leader, all he cared about was maintaining the status quo. We know some maybe most of Silco's supporters initially joined him because of his promises of Independence and rebellion but we see after the time skip most of them become washed up and no longer care for the goal. The Firelights also don't seem to care about zaun independence either. They're anti silco and anti Piltover and their main goal is rehabilitating the community.

When Silco died, so did the nation of zaun- that idea, that ideology. NO ONE tries to achieve independence after his death. The zaunites start to rally against piltover because of the new oppressive conditions they're being subjected to, not because they're trying to achieve independence. The Firelights I've been trying to get rid of him since day one and what do they do when he's actually gone? Nothing, they don't make a single play for power in the Undercity. The fact that sevika ends up becoming a council member implies that Zaun is still a state under piltover and not its own nation.

Oh yeah I forgot that there's this opinion that Silco "was blindsided by power and wealth" and "lost his way" and "he only did what he did to benefit himself all along" etc etc. Uh. Where- where did you get that from? I'm not even being sarcastic or something, I'm genuinely curious how you can come to this conclusion.

He operates from a crappy office in The Last Drop and the only attributes of wealth he has are cigars and whiskey(?). My man had one pair of pants for 10+ years and only got a fancy coat to look more intimidating. Besides, when chembarons proposed to give back the gemstone to Piltover so their sales don't drop even harder Silco refused. Also he was ready to give up his power when Jayce made imprisoning Jinx a requirement for Zaun to gain independence. Sure, he IS motivated to keep his daughter safe, but it would also mean that his goal will finally be achieved, so there's nothing left for him to do. Both wealth and power are only means to achieve a goal to him. He also doesn't really display that he gets the kick out of it, unlike councilors in Piltover.

"Well yes he wants Zaun to be independent, but only as he personally sees it" when did he EVER say that??😭😭😭😭 Every time he speaks on the topic he only mentions how he wants Zaunites to have opportunities, respect, "more than (Piltover's) runoff". Like- that's literally everything he ever said about this. All that matters to him is independence, he couldn't care less about everything else.

As to "losing his way"...idk I think this can only be attributed to pre-drowning Silco. Because after it he pretty much decided to stick to what he now believed in forever, and at no point except the finale he went south from his beliefs.

Silco isn't "misguided" or "corrupt" or any other similar definition. He's a character who chose to become a monster to bring change to his people. And as s2 didn't do anything about resolving this conflict, he was never really proven wrong.

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: while imani processes her lingering pain over jameson’s constant betrayals, jameson reels from her inattention. torn between loyalty to her best friend and processing her own feelings, genie grapples with guilt and anxiety while ej does his best to take care of her. sloane attempts to celebrate the split between jameson and imani but genie intervenes.

Warnings: toxic relationship, them b words! (watch them b words!), explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), usage of the n-word (if you white and read it, you owe us $20) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.6k Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

1 week after Sloane's party

Jameson leaned against the kitchen counter, his phone clutched in his hand as he stared at the screen in surprise. The image of Christian reflected back at him and he briefly wondered when he even started following that nigga. A quick glance to the left-hand corner told him it was Imani's Instagram account. Imani? With Christian? He couldn't even see that bastard's face but knew he was probably happy as fuck to be with Imani.

Look who came to visit.

The caption made his stomach churn. There was nothing downright explicit or implicated more but the simple fact that she had taken the picture, thought of the caption, and posted it? It made him sick. He knew for a fact she couldn't stand him. After things ended abruptly between Christian and Genie, Imani hadn't seen it for him. Ever. But now they were close enough for him to visit?

Texts left on read. Calls that went straight to voicemail. The silence was deafening.

Jameson immediately left the app and went to his messages, texting her a blitz of...admittedly emotional responses. She still hadn't responded to any of the ones before. He put his phone face down on the counter, trying to rein in his temper. He didn’t need to read the comments to know what they said. Fans were undoubtedly cheering it on. Shit talking about how 'cute' he probably was. Wondering if she had finally replaced him.

What if she had? What if the space where he stood was going to belong to another person? Not just Christian -- anybody? That was enough to turn his stomach.

Jameson's hand clenched into a fist and he turned around, hitting the first thing he saw...which so happened to be EJ's fridge. His fist dented the medal but it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did the inanimate object.

“Ay, muhfucka! I got that imported from France. Watch that shit. What's your problem?” Jameson glanced up to see EJ rounding the corner, a cup of coffee in his hand. He couldn't quite blame his best friend for being irritated but he was going through some shit.

“Her Instagram.” Jameson muttered, nodding toward his phone. EJ walked over, picked up the phone, and whistled low when he saw the post. “Ain't this a bitch.” He scrolled through the comments briefly before setting the phone down. “They have a ship name too. Chrismani sound stupid tho.”

Jameson glared at him and EJ quickly put the phone down, shrugging. "My bad, man." “What am I supposed to do? She’s not answering my calls. She’s ignoring my texts. And now she’s letting him—” Jameson cut himself off, shaking his head. He didn't know what the fuck the two had going on but either way, he didn't like that shit.

“Letting him what? Exist?” EJ raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s what it looks like to me. You give this nigga way too much power, man. Genie has a history with him, right? You know Imani. She not going too far with him."

Jameson frowned at EJ. He was right but he also knew..."Please. If you saw the girl you loved posted up with somebody else a week after ignoring your calls, you'd be tripping too." He didn't know what to do when it came to Imani. “She told me to choose. I could be friends with Sloane or I could be with her.”

EJ set his coffee down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he stared at his best friend. “Okay? So Sloane's out. Now what?" Jameson began to rub his hand over his fist, rolling his eyes in agitation. "It's not that easy!"

EJ cocked his head, leaning against the counter as he stared at Jameson with wide eyes. "Fuck you mean it's not that easy? Lose a friend, gain a girlfriend. Besides, Genie don't like her and Genie likes everybody. That's how you know something is up with her."

Jameson sighed softly, reaching to snatch his phone off the counter again. EJ had a point. Genie and Sloane had fallen out around the time he and Imani had become serious. He never knew what happened but wanted them both to feel like they could count on him. He didn't want to take sides. His friend vs his sister? He didn't want to decide. "Sloane doesn't have anybody."

"She had a house full of people at that party last week." "None of those people give a shit about her." "And you do?" "Of course I do." "You want that girl?" "No! No. I'm so fucking tired of being accused of that shit. I've known her since she was fifteen. I knew her when she could barely look you in the eyes when she was talking to you. She was lonely as fuck. And she's still lonely. I'm sorry I feel guilty abandoning her."

Jameson saw EJ's face change. From confusion to understanding all in an instant and for some reason -- he hated it. "You keep saying you're 'abandoning' her. You're not, man. She's a grown up." Jameson braced himself, knowing what EJ was going to say next. "She's not you and you are not your father."

He shut it down within a second, shaking his head as he quickly moved out of the kitchen. His father was a forbidden subject. Nobody brought the man up. Not his mother, not the press. Nobody. As far as the world was concerned, it was just Anais and James Lucas against the world. "It's not about that, man. I just don't want to abandon my friend."

"Do you want Imani back?" EJ called out to him, following. "Of course I do." "Let Sloane go. You can't let her think Christian is the only muhfucka that cares about how she feels. Let her go."

Jameson stared at him, the words sinking in.

“You’ve got options,” EJ said, approaching him and patting his hand against Jameson's shoulder. “Write her a song. Send her flowers. Show up at the studio if you have to. You flew to fucking Italy within a minute. Why are you hesitating now? Don't sit there and let this nigga come take what's yours."

Jameson hesitated. “You think that’ll work?”

EJ shrugged. “I think it’s better than...you know. Punching my shit and stalking her on Instagram. You’ve always been a fighter, J. Don’t stop now.”

Jameson nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with ideas. EJ clapped him on the shoulder before heading out of the kitchen, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts. He unlocked the phone in his hand and went back to Instagram, staring at the picture of Christian on her page. It was bullshit but EJ was right. He couldn't give up on her. He swore he never would.

The texts came through fast, almost as if he didn't have to think about what he was sending. She didn't take any pleasure in his reaction. Not really. But Imani needed something to flip that damn switch in Jameson's mind. He needed to know she wasn't playing. The mention of Genie made her heart hurt though. She texted her before she posted the picture of Christian but there had been no response. There hadn't been a response afterward either and Imani was praying she didn't hold this against her.

She forced herself not to finish reading Jameson's texts. She closed out the messages and went back to Instagram. Cross-legged on her couch, the soft glow of her phone screen illuminating her face in the dim living room, she scrolled through the comments on her post.

The likes were climbing rapidly, as they always did. Thousands of comments flooded in, a mix of excitement, speculation, and blatant nosiness.

"With your bestie ex? Oh, messy Mani." "What about Jameson tho? 👀" "Girl, you’re glowing without him. Keep winning!"

Her thumb hovered over that last comment, her heart clenching. Glowing without him. Was she?

She tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back against the couch. The praise and speculation didn’t fill the hollow ache that had been gnawing at her for days. It wasn’t about Christian—he was nothing. She felt absolutely nothing for the man. She got the vibe that he wanted something with her but Imani couldn't tell if he was delusional or just stupid to really think she'd give him the time of day after he was with her best friend. Then again...People thought that's exactly what she was doing.

The post wasn’t about him though. It was about the one person who wasn’t tagged, wasn’t mentioned, but was still present in every corner of her mind.

Jameson.

He kept letting her down. Choosing other people over her. She wouldn't him do it again. She closed her eyes, and the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.

It was late, and the city lights outside their hotel room window shimmered like stars. She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, the air thick with tension. Jameson stood in front of her, his hands trembling as he admitted the unthinkable. The night he ruined their relationship. All their problems went back to that one moment. “I slept with her.” he’d said, his voice raw and cracking. “I'm so sorry. Mani, I...I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I was drunk. I swear to god.” Her heart had shattered in that moment, the weight of his words crushing her. She remembered the way her chest had tightened, the disbelief that had turned into anger, then grief. They were done, she knew that. He knew that. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? It's fuck me, huh?!” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. Her entire body shaking. “I trusted you. I gave you everything.” “Mani, please,” he’d begged, dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hands. She snatched them away, trying to get up from the bed but Jameson grasped her by the waist, keeping her trapped. She pushed against his shoulders, twisting out of his grasp as tears filled her eyes. “I'm going to fix it, baby. I swear to god, I'll fix it. I'm sorry.” "Let me go! You can't fix this shit!" "Yes, I can. I can fix it. I'll be better." "Jameson. You just told me you fucked another bitch and you really think I'm going to give you a chance to fix it? We're done. It's over."

She opened her eyes, the memory dissipating like smoke, but the sting remained. She reached for her phone again, scrolling back to her post. The comments about Jameson were multiplying, each one a reminder of the life they’d shared and the pain he’d caused.

She couldn’t go back to that. She wouldn’t.

Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a moment before she pulled her hand away. No, she thought. Let him have to keep seeing it. Let him wonder. Let the tags in the comments be a reminder. “You won't get to the chance to play me again.” she whispered, her voice steady.

With that, she exited the app, her resolve solidifying. If Jameson wanted her back, he’d have to do more than beg. He’d have to prove he was worthy of her trust—and she wasn’t sure she’d ever believe that again.

Imani opened her texts, shooting a message to her engineer and manager. She had written so much shit when she was trying to get over the betrayal Jameson had done -- it was enough for albums. Why not use this pain to start a new chapter in her life? She spent so much of her time worrying about him. It was time to worry about herself. Her music. Her career.

Genie had done her best to put it out of her mind. The picture was exploding all over social media. She'd been tagged in it almost as much as Jameson was and each time made her chest tighten. The knot of anxiety she’d been carrying all day pulling tighter. She promised to meet EJ for lunch and had arrived early, sitting primly and perfectly -- covered in Chanel. Her beautiful dark coils pressed perfectly and swept back in a french curl. She looked much better than she felt.

She had known Imani was going to post it. The text had come hours before, but Genie hadn’t responded. She’d stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. What could she say? No one knew the whole story of she and Christian. All she told Imani was that it was over. But shouldn't that have been enough? Of all the men to use to make Jameson jealous, why him?

She had complicated feelings about Imani playing with Jameson's feelings as well -- but it wasn't as if she didn't have good reason. He was her brother but he was an idiot sometimes. The image was out in the world and Genie felt that her silence was almost complicity in hurting Jameson. If the gossip was correct, Sloane was a thorn in their relationship and Genie knew a surefire way to get her out.

EJ finally arrived and Genie glanced up to see him making his way to their table -- led by the hostess. A smile curved her lips as the two maintained eye contact. She had never been so enamored with a man before. Even that crush she had on Christian had been bullshit compared to how EJ made her feel. They kept their relationship fairly casual. After their night at Sloane's party, he had been with her every step of the way, reassuring her and being patient with her. He was more than she deserved.

Before he sat down, he came to her side of the table and kissed her softly. It was a brief touch of his lips but the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed. She felt the tightening of her chest relax and for a minute, she felt like she could breathe. "Hi, baby." He told her softly, moving to take his seat as she poured him a glass of wine. His sharp eyes flicking to the phone on the table. “I guess you've seen it.,” he said, nodding toward it. “Jamie isn't too happy either.”

Genie hesitated, then nodded to confirm she saw it. “She said it was to make Jameson jealous, but…” She trailed off, placing the bottle back on the table. "I don't know. It seems so out of character for her. Mani can be petty but she doesn't waste her time with people she doesn't give a fuck about. I don't think she understands what she's getting into."

EJ nodded, lifting his hand to gesture to a waiter for a glass of water. He was totally different from her. He worried about their friends but Genie took it totally to heart. Probably because she loved them both. EJ loved Jameson -- she was sure he hadn't decided how he felt about Imani yet. "I told him to go get his girl back. But I kind of regret it now."

Genie prepared herself to defend Imani. Jameson was her brother but she wasn't ready to absolve him of his sins. Especially when the reason their relationship was so chaotic was because he cheated a year ago. "They love each other so that wasn't a mistake. They just...they can't seem to get it together.," she said softly. “This is going to make everything worse. For her. For Jameson. For everyone.”

EJ leaned back, studying her with a mix of concern. “Did you tell her that?”

“I...I couldn't." Genie sighed, then immediately regretted the admission. “I mean, I wanted to. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t post him because he’s a jerk who’s going to ruin your life?’ I didn't want her to think I was jealous.”

EJ raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Genie opened her mouth to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. She had been jealous at the party. It had caused a twinge to her heart to see a man she used to want choosing other women over her. Women she loved deeply and respected. He had already taken Sloane. Now Imani? She had been scared. But as she gazed at EJ, she knew he was one of a kind. There wasn't a man like him in the world. How dare she be jealous over a man who wasn't worth it when one who was sat in front of her. “I’m not jealous. Anymore.,” she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m scared. For her. For Jameson. I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Between Sloane and Christian, their relationship could easily snap.”

EJ’s expression softened. He reached out and took her hand, brushing his thumb back and forth across her skin, “You worry too much about other people, Genie. It’s gonna tear you apart if you let it.”

Genie looked down at his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I can’t help it,” she murmured.

“I know. You got the kind of heart I love. But maybe it’s time you focused on you,” EJ said gently. “Let them figure it out. You’ve got your own life to live, Genie. Your own man to worry about."

"Oh? Are you my man?" "Didn't you cum on my face a few times? I could have sworn last night that you begged me to --"

Genie's eyes went wide as she peered around the restaurant to see if anyone heard him. No one did but her reaction made EJ laugh. She snatched her hand from his, reaching over to slap his wrist.

"Stop it! Don't say that out loud!" "It's true. You did. And you're gonna do it again when we leave here." "Is that all you're going to do?" "For now." "What if I want more?" "I gotta make sure you're ready. So stop babysitting everybody else and let me take care of you for a change." "Yes, sir." "Ooh. Keep that up. I like that."

She smiled faintly, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. For the rest of the lunch, she and EJ didn't mention Jameson and Imani but her gaze kept straying to the phone. Thoughts of Christian and Sloane filtered through her mind. For her last act of babysitting -- she was going to make sure they didn't ruin Imani and Jameson's second chance. If they couldn't get it right, it had to be on their own terms. Not anybody else's.

It was nightfall by the time Genie managed to convince EJ to let her out of bed. He asked her to let everyone figure their shit out but she had to get this out. Once she promised him she'd wash her hands of it after talking to Jameson, he gave her a kiss and let her go. Texting Jameson and telling him it was an emergency was probably dramatic but he shared his location with her. When she pulled up to the recording studio, he was waiting outside -- leaning against his Range Rover.

He watched her curiously as she parked and got out, lifting his hand to press to her shoulder as he escorted her inside -- like an annoyed but worried older brother would. When they were settled in a quiet, private studio, finally he leaned in and nudged her arm. "Talk. You kind of scaring me."

They sat in front of the mixing console, a track playing lowly in the background. Genie could tell it was one of his. She knew his voice anywhere but hadn't heard this song before. She understood a few words here and there but couldn't catch the rhythm of the song. Jamie looked tense, his shoulders stiff. She knew he hadn't been able to shake the thoughts of Imani and Christian from his mind.

“What’s going on?”

Genie hesitated, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. She took a deep breath and shrugged out of her jacket. "There’s a lot you don’t know. Things I’ve been keeping to myself because I didn’t want to -- Well, I wasn't brave enough to do what Imani did. I didn't want to make you choose. But after everything that’s happened -- Imani, that post, the way Christian's been acting -- I can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Jameson’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes as he grasp her hands in his. “What did he do?”

Genie exhaled shakily, her voice trembling as she began. “Christian and I -- it was a fluke from the beginning. Maybe I was too presumptive but I...I told Sloane how I felt. She encouraged me to pursue him. So I did. I put myself out there." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the way she had embarrassed herself. The sting of being rejected had faded but losing Sloane -- knowing what she had done? That would never go away.

"I found them together. At your afterparty for the Grammys. They were...Well, they were fucking. In your pool house. I didn't say a word. I turned around and left but I confronted Sloane afterward." Genie took a breath and forced herself to continue. "She didn’t even deny it. Said it was no big deal because...it wasn't like he wanted me anyway. He liked someone else. She knew and didn't tell me. I stopped talking to her that night.”

She felt his grip around her fingers tighten for a moment before they relaxed. The look on his face was...a lot like hers the night Sloane had shown who she was. Devasated. Confused. Disbelief. “She said that to you?”

Genie nodded, her throat tightening as tears fell. “I told Christian I was sorry. Can you believe it? I apologized for not being who he wanted. It was embarrassing. I'm starting to think who he wanted...was Imani.”

Jameson shook his head but all the pieces were falling into place. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Yes,” Genie said, her voice firmer now as she pulled her hands free and wiped her eyes. “And it’s why I think you need to let her go, J. Do what Imani said. Choose her. Sloane only cares about herself and she’s only going to drag you down.”

Jameson leaned back in his seat. “She was your friend. I wouldn't even know her if it wasn't for you. You loved her before anybody else and she...she did that to you.”

“Yes,” Genie said gently. “If anybody knows what it's like to see the best in Sloane, it's me. I always saw it. Until she showed me something else, Jameson. Don't wait until she shows you.”

He looked up at her then, a spark of anger in his eyes. "And Christian?”

Genie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don't know. He may really like Imani but she...she deserves better." She may be there to help Jameson fix things but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Imani was just trying to make him jealous. Loyalty to both kept her conflicted.

They sat in silence for a while so Jameson could process everything. He was distracted, clearly overwhelmed, but she knew what he would do when he spoke next. "I love you, you know?" he told Genie softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You and your dad...you two gave me and Ma everything we needed to feel like a family. You're my sister, Genie. I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you."

She gave him a faint smile, tears filling her eyes again. For somebody who could write music, he had never been eloquent with her about his feelings. They irritated each other like siblings but she had never truly said it to him. "I love you too." Genie said softly. “I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you either. That's why Sloane has to get out of our lives. Now.”

Jameson nodded, agreeing without words. “I threw everything away with Imani to be loyal to somebody who didn't deserve it.”

Genie reached out, squeezing his knee. “It may not be over. Try it. Let her know you choose her. Over anything. Even if you guys don't work it out, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. But you can’t move forward if you’re still holding onto people like Sloane.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally.

Genie smiled faintly, relief washing over her. “Good. Now, go clean up your mess.”

He gave her a small, rueful laugh. “I'm not good at that.”

“Get good at it.,” she said, standing and placing a kiss to his forehead...before slapping him on the back of the neck. Jameson flinched but only stared up at her. “Consider this my retirement from worrying about you and Imani. My man told me to stop.”

His brows furrowed as she turned to leave the studio. "What man?!" he called out after her. Genie ignored him and continued on to her car to get back home to EJ.

God had to have a sense of humor. No sooner had he watched Genie zip off in her car, he'd gotten a text from Sloane. A dinner invitation. He had been seconds from texting a denial but he knew this message was better delivered in person -- so he agreed to show up. He spent the entire drive to her place stewing in anger -- pissed at her and himself. He had spent months bringing this girl around Genie, around Imani. Begging them to give her a shot. He hadn't even asked why she and Genie had fallen apart. He was a shit friend and a shit boyfriend.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jameson stepped into the hallway leading to Sloane’s penthouse. His jaw tight and he had no idea how to release his tension. He had no idea what he planned to say. There was so much in his head. All he wanted to do was yell at her. Make her give him a valid reason for the shit she'd been doing. The weight of Genie’s confession bore down on him, and the idea of confronting Sloane left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knocked twice, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. Moments later, the door swung open, and Sloane appeared, her face lighting up like the sun.

“Jamie! Just in time! Dinner is almost done.” she exclaimed, pulling the door wide for him to enter. When he did so, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Hi. I missed you.”

Her perfume was light and airy. In another place, another time, he probably would have complimented her on it and told her that he missed her too. And that would have been the wrong thing to do. Becoming disillusioned with Sloane made him notice everything. The way she clung to him, the way she looked up at him with bright eyes, the darkened apartment, the Ella Fitzgerald album -- one of his favorites -- playing softly in the background. He stood stiffly, not hugging her back but it didn't seem to phase her. She took her time hugging him, only pulling back when she deemed it was over.

Jameson’s expression didn’t waver. “We just saw each other last week at the party, Sloane,” he said, his voice cutting sharper than the edge of a blade.

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone. “I know. It still feels like it’s been a minute…”

Jameson stepped further away from her, his movements deliberate. He glanced around, noting the intimate setup of the dining table—a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a single candle flickering softly. The oven lit up with the smell of a dinner that he couldn't quite place. Genie had lit the match but everything was ablaze now. Imani's accusations were crystal clear in his mind. God, she had been right.

“I saw Imani posted Christian on Instagram,” Sloane said, her voice carefully measured. “I’m sorry…you don’t deserve that.”

Jameson’s jaw tightened as he stood with his back with her, trying to get a grasp on his anger. “Imani's mine to worry about.”

“I-I know,” Sloane stammered, moving closer to him. Her voice softened, dripping with concern. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Jamie.” She reached out for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. “You can call me if you need anything.”

Jameson didn’t move. His demeanor was rigid, his body language screaming discomfort. He didn’t bother to touch her hand, his gaze fixed on hers with an intensity that made her falter.

“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked, her voice uncertain. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, confused smile. “You’re not acting like my Jamie.”

"Did you fuck Christian?" he asked her abruptly, tilting his head to look at her. He saw it for a second. For one second, she looked caught off guard. She looked...exposed. But then the guard went up, her brow furrowed and she gave him a laugh. He could see her about to lie. "Don't. Don't you dare lie to me. I've had enough of that."

She hesitated but then moved away, heading back to the table. She tripped over her own heels and clumsily poured herself a glass of wine. Jameson finally moved, the tension draining from his body the more he confronted her. Sloane lifted the glass to gulp down wine before Jameson continued on. "Genie told me everything." He watched her choke on the liquid, leaning forward as she coughed loudly and took deep breaths. "And I got to thinking -- if she could do that to her best friend...what else could she do?"

She turned wide eyes to him as she continued to try to catch her breath. "Christian was...a mistake." She gasped out, shaking her head. "It was just a night. We were drunk! We got carried away!"

He heard the same mistakes he gave Imani and his stomach churned again, shaking his head. "You destroyed someone who loved you. Better than anyone else. Do you think that excuse works? You hurt the kindest fucking person in the world. And you hurt her because you could. You humiliated her! And you act like nothing happened! You didn't even have the fucking decency to tell her you're sorry!"

Sloane’s lips parted, but no words came out. She looked at him, searching for some sign of forgiveness, but all she could see was disappointment and anger. It's all he had left for her.

“I believed in you. Imani told me to choose and I...I said I wouldn't but I did. I fucking chose you because I thought you were a good person. I thought you needed me. A friend.” Jameson continued, his voice low and steady.

"I do need you!" "You don't need me! You want me. There's a fucking difference, Sloane!"

He heard his phone notifications go off but he ignored it. Even when it continued, he kept going. His gaze didn't leave Sloane's. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out for him but he sidestepped her hand. She clenched her fingers tightly and sobbed quietly but he didn’t flinch. "Jamie, please. I’m sorry. I never meant—”

“Are you in love with me?” he interrupted, his tone weary. He didn't need the confession but he asked anyway. “If you ever cared about me, tell me the truth.”

Sloane froze before she gave the slightest nod. That nod hit him hard in the gut.

"You want to hear what I feel?" He asked her and watched as she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. She knew he didn't love her. She couldn't bear to hear the words. But Jameson figured it out now. A hard lesson to learn but...he had to give them to her. "I love Imani. I love everything about her. I love her so much that I don't know how to live without her. She makes me want to be better. I love the way she loves Genie. I love the way she loves me. And I gave that up twice. I keep hurting her and I did it again. This time...for you. And I regret it."

The more he spoke, the more she cried. "I'm sorry I brought us to this. You can blame me for it. Not Imani. Goodbye, Sloane." He moved towards the door and she followed him. Her phone rang out loud and she hesitated, tears blurring her eyes as she turned back to the kitchen. He didn't stop moving.

As he reached for the handle, she called out, her voice breaking. “Jamie, wait—Please! Don't leave me.”

He paused but didn’t turn around. Guilt grabbed a hold of him again but he pushed it away, knowing that enabling Sloane would only hurt her further...so he opened the door and walked out. It clicked shut behind him and for a moment, he stood there, trying to catch his breath. He heard her scream, throw things across the room, and yell out for him -- but he pretended he didn't.

Jameson walked towards the elevators, the anger he had carried up with him left behind in her place. He fished his phone out of his pocket, pushing the button for the ground floor as he read each text that came through but one caught his attention: a text from EJ that contained a link to Apple Music and an article.

R&B Sensation Imani releases surprise EP, Diary

As he browsed the article, the elevator doors pinged open and an avalanche of notifications from Instagram came in. Even more than when Imani posted the picture of Christian. To make matters worse, he got a shit ton of texts from friends and acquaintances. Half of them were the fucking eye emoji.

"Shit." He muttered to himself.