#ok ok here is chapter one and yet

[ghostwise]

four little crows, off to meet the Maker 5.5k words tags: childhood trauma, child death, past child abuse, ableism, religion, original characters, canon-typical violence, zevran arainai/male warden

It was early when Zevran went to the Chantry on Nueva de la Paz, and already the street was teeming with bodies.

More punctual than the birds’ dawn chorus, florists were preparing fresh flowers to sell, bakers were pulling hot bread from big adobe ovens, and pious Antivans were counting prayer beads and mumbling petitions on their way to the cathedral for morning worship. In this sleepy haze of productivity Zevran knelt before a figure of Andraste, and despite his reasons for being there, his prayer was sincere.

It was a humble plea, made more so because the things he was praying for were things he already had: Good health and comfort, a steady heart, a clear mind, and as always, the Warden.

His Warden! Privately, Zevran wondered if the Maker had willed their meeting and made their ensuing happiness possible, but the idea died quickly. He was deep in prayer; lying would not befit him now, and the All-Knowing would certainly recognize any attempts at dishonesty.

The fact was, the Maker could receive no credit for the glory that was Hamal Mahariel.

Zevran had once told him that he would storm the Dark City itself to be at his side. Was that blasphemous? Perhaps. Better yet, it was true.

The thought was interrupted as a figure kneeled beside him.

Here at last was the true reason he had come. The Chantry sister bowed her head. She held out a satin-lined box, and he carefully placed a diezmo of a silver and two copper coins within.

“Four innocents,” she whispered. “To be sent into the Maker’s arms after midnight.”

Then, with a soft rustle of fabric, she stood and walked away.

.

The city was coming awake now, sun pouring over the rooftops. A pigeon shit on the stone path outside the Chantry, and Zevran glanced at the spot where he’d stood only a moment ago.

The entire courtyard was littered with birdseed and droppings. Iridescent feathers tossed about in the warm breeze, and it was easy to believe that Andraste was watching over him, shooing away pigeons and assassins alike.

Surrounded by all this, a laugh escaped him.

Antiva City was more beautiful than he remembered. Never had he felt so free wandering its streets. When last here, he had been a man chained by sorrow and the Crows. Now he walked leisurely, an equal to the markets and the plazas and all the people there.

It felt so lovely to simply be awake before the heat of the day set in. On his way back, he purchased a whole bag of pan dulce and a package of dark and fragrant coffee beans—expensive ones, simply because he could—then he perused the stores until he found a handheld coffee grinder to replace the one they’d lost in the Blight (a word all but meaningless to him now, relevant at present if only for the loss of that trusty coffee grinder).

Treasures in hand, he walked to the old sawdust inn, dodging shoppers and messengers and street dogs. And because he was a bit of a fool, he ignored the front door, climbing instead onto a bin in the alley, hoisting himself over a wall, pulling himself onto the roof, and rapping insistently at the wooden shutters of the second story third window until it opened.

Quickly, before gravity won its fight over him, he tipped into the room, where Hamal was waiting with his arms open, to gather him into a cohesive whole, and tie down his straying thoughts with a kiss. It was a perfectly indulgent moment, a reminder of how sweet life could be. Zevran prayed it would last a little bit longer.

“Quite a dramatic entrance,” Hamal chuckled once Zevran had righted himself. “Dare I ask what you were doing?”

“I was procuring breakfast for us, of course,” Zevran said, setting the packages on the table. “Here. Smell this.”

New love was silly. Here he was bustling with excitement over something so commonplace, so simple. As Hamal breathed in the aroma through the brown paper package, Zevran grinned from ear to ear.

“You bought coffee!” Hamal exclaimed.

“Ha! I thought you might like that! Roasted right here in the city. You will never taste better.”

“And here I’d just gotten used to going without it, after so much time on the ship. Ma serannas, vhenan.”

That was how he knew he’d done very well indeed, for Hamal’s words slipped out in the language of his home only when he truly meant them, and this always seemed to summon a little echo within Zevran of that same feeling. He smiled, watching as Hamal hugged the package close, singularly focused on the scent.

And Zevran found that he had no time at all to think of what awaited him tonight at the Chantry. Not when he had the Warden to kiss, and coffee to make, and the entire morning to live through.

.

It was so strange to be back.

Returning to the city felt like a curious beginning, the sort that looped around to the tail end of Zevran’s adolescence and picked up where he’d left off. As a young Crow in training, he’d never had the privilege of wandering the streets. The gardens and shops were then unfamiliar to him, as were the cobblestone bridges and canals. He only got to know the city as an adult, and even then, he never experienced it the way he did now with Hamal.

“That is City Hall,” he said, nodding towards one of the many historic buildings on their walk. “And that over there is the mayor’s manor… two or three mayors ago. I understand it is a sanatorium now. He was killed by the Crows quite some time ago.”

Hamal listened to all of this, rapt and attentive. That sort of attention still made Zevran a bit shy, though he’d never dare show it. Instead, he translated signs. Repeated words slowly, so Hamal could hear them clearly. Smiled when he tried them in that accent of his, twisting Antivan into something Zevran found strangely lovely, where alameda became almendra became all may dream.

“Close enough,” Zevran said, and despite Hamal’s frown, he kissed him.

Antivan into Common, into Elvhen, and back again, like steps to a dance. In this manner, the day passed them by quickly.

 “Do you consider this your home town?” Hamal asked later.

They were back in their rented room, sharing a plate of empanadas for dinner while the sinking sun cast lines of light upon the table. Zevran looked at him, mulling over the question. As with all things, there was a short answer, and a long answer. The latter called for a rather personal tale.

Perhaps it was overdue. If not now, when?

“Yes, in fact, though I was not born here,” he said. “It feels bittersweet to be back.”

“Oh, you missed it,” Hamal said, propping his chin up on the heel of his hand. “I could always tell, you know. I was homesick too, so I could see it clear as day.”

“You were very perceptive,” Zevran said. “And I was very homesick. I longed for the sea, for the people and the music and the food of my youth… though it was not home in the traditional sense, I was created here. The boy, melted down, and the man, built from scratch.”

Recognizing the weight after his words, Hamal allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts.

“There is a training villa, somewhere in the city,” Zevran continued. “I do not know exactly where. It is where the vetted recruits are brought to, you see, to begin their… education. It is where Taliesen and I were brought to, where we met as boys. I’ve been searching for it for years, but…”

“They kept the location from you?” Hamal asked.

“It is easier to deal with runaways who do not know where they are,” Zevran said with a shrug. “We were blindfolded during the journey, and during every outing we made after. We wore caps with a cover in front.” He paused and pointed to his eyes, forming a v-shape. “A mask, like the blinkers they put on horses. We seldom left the villa, but I do remember one thing very clearly: the funerals.”

Hamal listened intently. He already knew what Zevran was referring to.

The children who did not survive their training.

“We are raised to be so devout…” Zevran said. “Did you know the Antivan Crows began as an arm of the Chantry? It is not talked about, but it’s true. It’s easy to kill with impunity if you believe the Maker is acting through you. As part of the charade, the buying and selling and abusing of children is seen as a tragic and necessary sacrifice. Lambs at the altar. The Crows do love their departed children.”

Zevran took a deep breath before continuing.

“They are given lavish funerals, honored as soldiers who fell in battle. It is never public, of course. The matter is too unsavory. The services are held at night. I was about eight years old when we lost Rafael and Erwin. We were dressed in our best clothes, marched up onto a hearse, and taken to the Chantry. We were told in clear terms: ‘This is what being a Crow is about! Remember them! Honor them! You will follow them soon enough.’”

“And that is why we are here,” Hamal said softly.

“I found the Chantry.”

Somehow, it became real then. Zevran brushed his hair back and rubbed his eyes.

“I’ve been searching since we arrived, and I’ve finally found it. This is the one, I am certain of it. And just in time; there is a funeral tonight.”

“What are you going to do?” Hamal asked.

“Nothing,” Zevran said quickly. “I hope to follow them back, and finally discover where the villa is. Only with that information can I plan the next step.”

“You should have said something sooner,” Hamal said. “We have to prepare—”

“Amor,” Zevran interrupted him. This was the part he’d been dreading. “I’ve already prepared.”

Hamal sat up in his chair and looked at him, brow furrowed.

How could Zevran make him understand? Something within him squirmed at the thought of Hamal being there, in that Chantry, seeing—

Seeing him. His upbringing, and all the shadows of his past.

Zevran winced at the thought. “This is something I’d like to do alone,” he said.

“That’s… Zevran…” Hamal shook his head, grappling with what Zevran was telling him.

“It will be easier this way. For me. Please.”

Food forgotten, Hamal sat back in his seat. Zevran met his gaze, and saw within it a turmoil that made him ache. But he was resolute, and after a very long moment, Hamal looked away.

“Will you be in any danger?”

“No,” Zevran said honestly. “I won’t come near enough to be in any danger. This is strictly information gathering. But so much has changed. I’ve changed. I am not sure how I will react when I see them.”

“That’s all the more reason for me to go with you, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Zevran conceded. He bowed his head, worried that Hamal would succeed in wearing him down.

Truth be told, it was hard to say no to him, because he loved him, and because he knew Hamal’s fear. He’d felt the same fear not long ago, in Denerim, seeing him off to battle.

“Please,” he repeated. “Alone.”

Hamal let out a low sigh. Then, mercifully, he reached for his hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Very well, vhenan. I trust your judgment. But please, please be careful.”

“Ah, but of course!” Relieved, Zevran brought Hamal’s hand up to his lips, where he kissed each knuckle, twice. “Home before you know it! You’ll barely notice I’m gone!”

.

Tristeza Huitz had met Zevran Arainai three days ago, in the Chantry. It was hard not to notice the young man, for a number of reasons: Firstly, his hair—light against his brown skin—typical to certain Dalish clans West of the city, though he was not Dalish; secondly, his tattoo—sharp, along his temple—which she recognized as the mark of a Crow; and thirdly, the look on his face when he entered the Chantry—not reverence, not comfort, but something akin to recognition.

Feeling bold, she struck up a conversation. She learned he was an orphan, like herself. She learned he was born in Rialto, like herself.

And so it was the Maker’s will that the man who had set out to destroy the Crows should meet one of the few Chantry Sisters who knew what the Crows did with their fallen, and certainly the only one who was opposed to them as fiercely, passionately, even religiously.

“I will help you,” she whispered without hesitation, a fire in her eyes that surprised Zevran. “It is vile, what they do! I cannot believe that all this is as the Maker wills it. Come back to see me in a few days. Ojala, by then, I will have information that will help you.”

Yes, Tristeza thought that night, reading in her bedroom and finding herself unable to focus on the words. I know it is Your will, or it would not have come to pass! And yet, I am terrified. Maker forgive me. I know it is right to oppose the Crows but what is my little life, even in its greatest capacity, compared to the whole of them? Maker, I humbly beg of You: Protect us! Guide us! Keep us from harm!

In the end all she really did was whisper the time to him. The conveniently unlocked cellar door was just luck, or a fluke, or perhaps it was the Maker’s will. She threw a prayer in for Zevran Arainai as well.

Unbeknownst to both of them, it did reach him.

.

The records were just where Sister Tristeza said they would be.

The ornate architecture of the old Chantry on Nueva de la Paz lent itself to shadows and tricks of the light. Perhaps whoever built had made this a conscious decision: to festoon it in gilded pillars and stained glass, with statues in every corner, chock full of roses, thorns, ivy, faces, a weeping Andraste, a spiral like a snail, a long mantel for hundreds of lit candles to dance their flames upon, and windows so vast and colorful one could stare at them for hours and still not see every detail in them. Such beauty could make one forget all their sorrows.

Zevran allowed himself a moment to appreciate the artistry that surrounded him. Then he corrected himself; this was not the work of the Maker, but the work of the Antivan people.

Centuries of their rich history could be found within the Chantry’s archives; births and baptisms, marriages and funerals. And though not every Chantry had ties to the Antivan Crows—the Crows served the Chantry, not the other way around—this one carried on the proud tradition of affording them protection and blessings. There were others throughout the country like it. Chantries where the clergy accepted coffins too small and bodies too battered without question. They already knew what had happened to them. They didn’t need to ask.

These documents were records of untold crimes.

Working fast, Zevran found the drawer labeled with the most recent dates and emptied it. Then he emptied the year prior to that, and the one that followed. Each emptied drawer was filled with blank parchment, which would hopefully eclipse the theft for a few days, at least.

He took as many records he could reasonably carry. Then, taking care to leave the room just as he had found it, Zevran quickly left.

Keeping to the shadows and moving with every means of stealth at his disposal, he slowly made his way to a spot hidden in the rafters, where he waited for the service to begin.

He waited. He waited, and then waited a while longer.

Zevran massaged life back into a cramping muscle in his leg. He’d sat here, immobile, for over an hour. In his line of work, this was never good. Every second that ticked by risked his discovery or worse.

He cursed inwardly, shutting his eyes. There was much of his life that he could reflect on as he waited, hidden in the Maker’s sights, but this was no time for introspection. He was nervous. And he was itching to learn something. Patience had never been his strong suit, alas.

Desperate for anything to happen, he felt a shameful sense of relief when the doors finally opened. Almost immediately he chided himself—for here he was, grateful that his night would soon come to an end and he could return to his warm room and his lover and his rented bed, while the first coffin was being brought in. Shame was always his first reaction, where the Crows were involved. He swallowed it quickly and his eyes fixed on the scene that unfolded beneath him.

One, two, three, four little coffins. Then came the most somber procession he’d ever seen.

Even the caps were the same, pointed in the front. Seven boys filed in, the oldest looking to be around 10. They were dressed in their finest clothing, with black brocade fabric, clean linen shirts, and shoes polished just so; only the very best for such a grand occasion. He’d worn such clothing himself once, long ago.

He’d wondered what it would feel like, seeing these shadows from his past, but he had not prepared himself for this.

Zevran felt nothing.

As the Cleric began to speak, as the young Crows took their seats among the pews, Zevran searched within him and saw that he was empty. He tried a little harder to draw out a reaction; imaged Hamal at his side, how surely the Warden’s heart would buckle under the sight of children being interred, and found that he still felt nothing.

Not sorrow, not pity, not anger.

Carefully, Zevran removed himself from the scene.

It was not for him to say goodbye to these boys, and he made his way outside, unnoticed, where after making sure the street was well and truly desolate he continued his surveillance from a nearby rooftop: An old mill, long abandoned, its red-brick façade wearing away.

Once there, he let out a sigh. A heightened tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding within him left his body in a rush, leaving him a bit fuzzy around the edges. He forced himself to refocus. Whatever he’d felt or hadn’t felt in the Chantry didn’t matter.

What was I expecting, anyway? he wondered. Too damaged.

Still, it was a relief he had not fallen apart at this, the first step of many to come.

Looking down at the street, Zevran spotted a carriage a few buildings off of the Chantry. There was nothing too luxurious about it, from the plain construction of the vessel down to the horses drawing it. The Crows preferred not to draw attention to the training villas. It followed that this was how they had arrived tonight.

He would have to wait to confirm that suspicion. Antivan funeral masses were long affairs, and the Crows added a layer of pomp, with prayers and speeches, anything to reaffirm in the young recruits’ minds just how fortunate they were to have been selected thus by the Maker.

And he had felt special, hadn’t he? Yes, he had. Once.

Zevran closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the brick wall.

.

By his internal clock, nearly two hours had passed before he heard the Chantry doors open again.

The unassuming horse-drawn carriage pulled forward until it reached the entrance. One by one, the Crow recruits filed out the same way they’d come in; quiet and orderly. A tall figure followed after them, shutting the door behind them, and with that the carriage departed.

Zevran waited, watching as the distance between he and the carriage grew. Better to be cautious, however; he quickly made the decision to follow, leaving his perch atop the old mill.

He hadn’t done this sort of thing in years, but he hadn’t forgotten. A rooftop chase under a new moon was the sort of thing he was expertly good at, all of his muscles working in concert; a leap here, a short scramble up a water tank there, his keen elven eyesight penetrating the darkness, careful not to get too close while still tracking the target from afar. A growing sense of apprehension took hold of him, too.

Finally, he would know where he’d lived all those years. His life had begun in the most humble of settings, the brothel El milagro. From there he had been shuffled to a cramped apartment in Antiva City’s leather-making district, no more than a holding area, in fact, and a house of horrors. What followed from there… had always been a mystery.

But this was all wrong. As Zevran moved from roof to roof, even dropping into an alley at once point when the way ahead was not viable, he saw his surroundings changing. No more chipped paint, no more crumbling stone. The carriage led him to the wealthier neighborhoods now. Lawyers and well-off merchants, artists and scholars lived here. Not Crow children!

Zevran pulled himself onto another roof and let out a strangled curse. Money meant security. With all this wealth there would surely be hired guards in these homes, and city police in the streets. It was not possible!

Just as he was beginning to tire, the carriage drew to a stop.

Zevran crept forward and watched.

The door opened. The tall figure stepped out. The man that had trained him all those years ago closed the carriage door and made his way to his wealthy, comfortable home. And the carriage, so out of place amidst this opulence, carried on further into the wealthy mercantile district.

“Shit,” Zevran said, giving voice to his anxiety for the first time that night.

Master Atanasio had been the first Crow he’d ever met, and he’d made all the ones that followed seem meek in comparison. Far from the slavers who’d acquired him at the brothel, beyond the landlord who’d kept him and the others in that dirty apartment, even greater than the starvation and neglect meant to cull the weakest among them, Atanasio’s cruelty and precision were unmatched and unparalleled. He was given children as young as five. The only way out for them was in a casket or as full-fledged killers.

Zevran was no fool. He’d known that the possibility of encountering people from his past had always been there. He was returning, after all, to the halls and torture chambers of his youth. He was returning to root out the monsters that resided there. To ensure nobody else went through what he went through—what Rinna and Taliesen went through. But this was… unexpected. This was…

“Shit!” Zevran exclaimed, louder still.

He’d let himself be distracted. And the carriage, with its cargo of young Crows, was gone.

.

The decision that followed was nothing if not pragmatic.

A Crow really was such a fragile thing, all bluster and bravado, but at his core remained something malleable; something for one’s betters to shape and manipulate as needed. Such a grand organization could scarcely get by if its masses held too much agency, and by his own agency did Zevran make his way into Atanasio Trepidus’ estate, where he confronted the old man on the stairs.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d never thought to imagine what such an encounter would entail, but oh, his heart was beating in his chest loud enough that surely Atanasio heard it before he saw him. He had to remind himself that he was no longer a Crow—and that the man before him held no power over him.

Most of all, it had to be true.

Atanasio paused at the foot of the stairs. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“So,” Atanasio said, and Zevran felt his resolve waver. After just one syllable! But his voice was the same. Hateful, cold, and calm.

Unbothered, Atanasio walked across his darkened study, sliding a desk drawer open and rummaging through its contents. He withdrew a set of matches, striking one to light an oil lamp upon the wall.

Now illuminated, Atanasio gazed at him, searching. Then, he let out a sigh. He looked the same. Grayer, certainly, but unchanged. Here was the moment where any professional assassin could tell you the job had gone awry.

“Zevran Arainai,” he murmured. “I am… not surprised it is you.”

“What,” Zevran said, and found that his mouth had gone quite dry, “do you mean by that?”

“You’ve come to kill me, no?”

In mere moments Atanasio had maneuvered himself behind the desk—yet another clumsy mistake on Zevran’s part, but he himself was quite unable to move from his spot on the stairs. Not when every part of him screamed at him to get away from this man.

“You were expecting me?” Zevran managed.

“Not you, exactly, but someone. After all, my dear boy,” Atanasio said, and the words made Zevran’s skin crawl. “Look at my line of work. Sooner or later, someone was going to come. And you… you always had a little spark to you. Yes, even back then. Took every lesson without question but Maker forbid I set a hand to one of the other boys. One little bruise and you’d be glaring daggers at me all night.” He chuckled, as if they were reminiscing of good times. “I advised the Grandmaster of this: ‘A bit unruly, that Zevran, but he has potential-’”

The oil lamp shattered beside his head, sputtering sparks before plunging the two of them into darkness again.

“I have plenty more daggers where that came from,” Zevran spat, and took a step forward. “Enough talk. You will answer my questions. Where is the training villa?”

“I don’t know. It changes. By magic.”

“Where do the Crows source their slaves from?”

“Not my business. I do not ask.”

“I am supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want. I am in fact retired; have been for years.”

“And yet you were burying more of your victims tonight! You will tell me what I need to know or-!”

He’d drawn up to the old man now, pressing a dagger against the thin skin of his throat. Atanasio stood stock-still, unable to see Zevran save for a shadow.

“What’s happened to you?” he asked. “A Crow does not lose his composure like this. Have you so quickly forgotten everything I taught you?”

“You taught me nothing!” Zevran said, and he continued, fiercely, “You only cut at me—again and again!—until the scar grew so deep that nothing else remained! Until my mind knew nothing else! It was cruel! Erwin had a weak heart! Rafael was epileptic!”

Atanasio was right about one thing: A Crow did not lose his composure. Even with a line of blood beginning to form at his neck, the man looked at Zevran with a wholly unimpressed expression. He remained thus, quietly thinking, before answering.

“Who?”

Zevran slit his throat.

How he would have liked to say something more to him, but all the feelings he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in the cathedral hit him in a devastating wave. He found himself on the floor just as Atanasio fell, blood sputtering from his wound, soaking the plush carpet.

Zevran had once been a Crow, but no longer. A ragged sob heaved out of him, and he wept.

.

Antiva City was awake, and beginning a day like any other, when Zevran returned to the inn.

The door to their room opened before he could knock, and Hamal looked at him, brow furrowed, eyes heavy with lack of sleep. In one quick sweep, he took in the blood-stained clothes. Zevran shook his head. He pushed his way in.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I may have… underestimated things.”

As he spoke, Hamal set about a more thorough examination. He slid a hand from Zevran’s shoulder down to his forearm, where he tugged gently at his sleeve, looking at the blood upon it.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, searching for the source.

Zevran glanced down. It had been a messy kill, and he hadn’t explained himself. Stopping Hamal’s hand, he held him still for a moment.

“I am unharmed.”

“Thank the Creators! Zevran-”

“Please don’t. You must know I did not plan this.”

Hamal stood before him, but Zevran could not meet his eyes. Then, worse than any beratement, Hamal simply asked, “What am I supposed to do, Zevran?” His voice very soft, he asked him directly, “What am I to do if something were to happen to you and I never found out?”

A short exhale left him, and Zevran chuckled, finding the question far too incisive.

“I suppose you would be better off not knowing what became of me.”

“No, I wouldn’t. Don’t say that.”

Zevran walked to the table. He removed his gloves, and unlaced his collar, suddenly feeling crowded in.

“I need a moment,” he said, and he sat down. Hamal sat with him, but quickly realized he couldn’t bear the quiet.

The Warden pushed off of the table and set about doing something in the background, puttering here and there while Zevran rested his face in his hands. When Zevran looked up again, he saw a bowl of freshly boiled water had been placed before him, along with a washcloth.

Hamal picked up the washcloth and wrung it out, fingers turning pink from the heat. Zevran sat up in his seat and turned to him, wordlessly allowing him to clean the blood from his hands and face.

“You must let me face these things with you, Zevran,” he spoke after a moment, not content to let their conversation end.

“They are horrible things, amor,” Zevran told him. “The danger-”

“I’m aware of the danger. I did not leave my clan to come with you on a whim. But if something happened to you, I would be left alone. In a country where I do not know anyone, or speak the language, and still, I would spend the rest of my life here, to mourn you in your homeland.”

Zevran’s eyes filled with tears as Hamal continued.

“I wouldn’t know where you had fallen, so I would honor every street. I wouldn’t be able to guess at where your remains were, so I would plant trees in every town. And if I could, I would find the ones responsible and avenge you, or die trying. But wouldn’t it be better, vhenan, if we faced these things together?” He paused, crouching down before him so as to better see him. “Then we’d protect each other.”

“You realize what this would entail,” Zevran said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Would you kill to follow me down this path?”

“I would,” Hamal said firmly.

“Kill not darkspawn, but people.”

“Yes.”

“Not just murderers or slavers, but unassuming people playing tiny roles in something very large and nefarious—decent people save for an occasional contract, a business deal with the Crows here and there—or even to kill without explanation, if I asked you to?”

“Yes,” Hamal said again.

Zevran shook his head. Impossible to believe, and yet, he felt like a drowning man being pulled from the cold water. His words came out in a rush.

“I’ve done horrible things. I have blood on my hands and I do not feel even a little sorry for it. I intend to draw more blood. Even knowing that… even knowing…”

“Yes, even knowing.”

“And… what if we never succeeded? What if this truly is all a fool’s errand? What if we pressed on for years, for decades, for the rest of our lives, seeking to end something insurmountable—would you stay?”

“I would.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

“Would you kill forever? Would you maim?”

“Yes—”

“Would you marry me?”

Hamal’s eyes went wide, and Zevran, quite beside himself now, continued, impassioned.

“Would you marry me in a Chantry? Before the Maker? So He knows then, if I die- when I die-”

“Yes! I would marry you anywhere, Zevran! Even before the damned Divine herself if you asked me.”

Zevran looked at him. “Really?” he asked, shocked into gentleness.

“I will marry you,” Hamal said again. “Zevran, I will. I’ll marry you.”

Zevran made no further effort; he only threw his arms around him and held him tightly, feeling Hamal press his face into the crook of his neck. Saying no more they clung to each other in silence, knowing the fear and sorrow were all just marks of the deep love that had found them.

He felt resolute now, more than ever, of what needed to be done.

The Maker did not hold a candle to this feeling. Neither did the Crows. And if he died fighting them he knew all his deeds would be carried by his trembling spirit to the Beyond… where marrying Hamal Mahariel would stand out as the best thing he ever did with his mortal life.

[fuckyeahkagepro]

Ayano no Koufuku Riron - cover + PV by NIJISANJI

[josephslittledeputy]

Okay but not only am I curious af about the fic (can you spoil a lil more maybe 👀) but also: Where could one read it, if you did the username change? ALSO ALSO: You can do it!! And it is very nice to read that you are so excited and happy. Keep at it!! ✨

Here's the link to my AO3 :) I know I've gone through a few username changes, so that's my bad, but I believe this one is here to stay! (For a long while at least) and oho boy, can I spoil it! I honestly have to refrain from posting spoilers anytime I make a post about it haha

So Willa's dark AU contains some supernatural elements and is broken into two parts, with They Watch From The Pews being part 1 & They Watch From The Trees being part 2. Both are set in Hope County (obvi), but part 2's Hope County is just a liiittle different. Changed, per se... Which is all I'll say on that, ha

Putting a read more since things get kinda long under the cut.

Pt. 1 Summary: Former Deputy, Willa Rook, is on a mission to retake Hope County from Eden's Gate. It should be easy, right? Just blow a few things up, rescue some people, take out the Heralds and she's golden! But things are not always as they seem. There's something someone much darker and sinister pulling the strings behind the scenes. The longer she stays in each Heralds grasp region, the more hazy and confusing things—and the line between good and evil—become. When she's teetering on the brink of the abyss, will she turn back? Or will she go into free fall and see where it takes her?

Additionally, there are a few things that Willa's done—and seen—prior to coming to Hope County that she'd rather not remember. If anyone ever found out about them, well, it certainly wouldn't shine a favorable light on her. Unfortunately, the Seeds (specifically John) pry these things out of her and, well, once that door to the mind is open... who knows what could get in 👀

Pt. 2 Summary: Everything we know about Hope County has changed. After the bombs dropped and Eden's Gate took over, it's never been the same. But have no fear! If you join them, you will be loved and protected and you'll never have to be alone again! Doesn't that sound just absolutely wonderful? Lots of other people think so too! Or, that is, until they've broken the rules (intentionally or otherwise) and then that's when They come for you. Who's They, you ask? Oh, don't you worry about it! Just don't break the rules and don't ever go into the Tainted Woodlands and you'll be juuuust fine! :)

Long story short, the fic is pretty much my attempt at a transcendental horror! If that isn't satisfactory enough, here's the link to my other side blog where I post more spoilery stuff :) Pt. 1 & Pt. 2 also have their own respective tags! (TW: Gore, blood, body horror, angst, etc)

[chanyoungies]

in other news i executed most of my plan (minus the cinnamon rolls) are u proud of me tuals . .

[leafeonb]

why would you make a videogame walkthrough with like no warnings that it straight up has spoilers for the game on it instead of just having the answers for some stuff...

[walkingaftermidnight07]

ok so im abt 340 pages (chapter 18) into chain of thorns (NO SPOILERS PLZ I BEG OF YOU) and i have had so many damn thoughts abt this book so far that I have RUN OUT of tabs and had to use my backups that i use for school which are a different type and they dont match ive also had a lot of bouts of pterodactyl screeching which is fun and only slightly embarrassing so yeah thats my update

[jellyloveru]

just realised that my favourite mediocre children's book is somewhat similar to some far more mediocre children's book :(

[truethes]

anyway in a more comprehensive post i have to admit that this chapter absolutely has made my muse peek even higher.

[gibbearish]

ok i finished the first chapter and am gonna take a break now but im v excited to keep reading im really liking the way the author looks at things so far

[everymlmhybrid]

Hello! Is your fic a resdogs one? If so I’m super excited to see if for you plan to post… love your blog!

yes, it is !! thank youuuuu i'm so glad <333 i'm nearing the end of it, and then I'll have a lot to add in and to edit, but when it's properly done i'll probably be posting it chapter-by-chapter on ao3 w/ it linked on here! i wanna say I'll at least start to post it in the summertime? but don't quote me on that lol.

I'm not going to lie So Much Happens in it bc the first half is 50k and the second half i'm on now is 41k (either could end up longer or shorter from editing tho lol)

but ANYWAYS the basic starting concept is that Freddy actually does get medical attention, but he still has to get the hell off Joe's radar before he can start throwing accusations at him, and Larry (my beautiful man. my beautiful, stupidly-trusting man.) lets him hole up in a hotel with him, at first just while he's still healing, and then while Joe's still "convinced" that Freddy is a cop (i.e. while he's still completely right about him lol). And this entire time Freddy's reporting back to Holdaway but also making up excuses for why he can't just up and leave without causing too much suspicion, just so Freddy can let himself be selfish and enjoy this brief time he's going to get with Larry, even if he's lying half the time. (over-exaggeration. he's, frankly, so stupidly honest with him. he's more honest with Larry than most of his own friends, just not about the shit that Very Much Matters.)

AND A LOT HAPPENS. so much. it's about trust and love and work and healing and making yourself worse and making yourself better and being trapped and trapping yourself and freeing yourself and I'M EXCITED to finish it and even more excited for you to be able to read it!!!!!!

[fumifooms]

The fabled, infamous buckled collar shirt… Opens. He’s usually always wearing his cowl and vest so you can’t usually tell. He does love wearing shirts with open/low collars, which you can esp tell by the Daydream Hour outfits Kui designed for him, so makes sense. And yet… The buckle collar…

If u don’t think this is the same shirt btw he actually does up his collar when meeting the canaries. Just 1 scene difference before after, below. He likes to open up his collars when the setting is more casual but business or action happens and it’s back to being all proper and laced up

Btw idk if it’s a mistake but that screentone on Chilchuck’s chest in the second picture of the post… Is Kui telling us he has body hair. Idk is he dirty does he need a shower?? Kui doesn’t draw Senshi with much body hair in the manga for practicality reasons but she did draw in a Daydream Hour once how much she actually thinks he has, so it wouldn’t be crazy if this was the case for Chil too, and then in a final chapter in a close shot panel where she even details the seams of the shirt she can go all out more. Kui talks about peach fuzz and whatnot for elves so maybe they’re just finer or paler in his case. Please please please— Sigh ok it’s a screentone mistake

Anyways while I’m here, low collar comp. Third one is that shirt he wears sometimes where you have to tie up the strings like in bottom row middle outfit of the first one…

[fangirl-dot-com]

Charles Leclerc - Arthur, you are not French...yeah Charles, drag his ass!

I’ve been excited to write this chapter! I know that reader is a Red Bull driver, but I am a Tifosi through and through. Charles holds such a special place in my heart (but so does Max). I feel like one of those “breaking my silence – how I got into F1,” low and behold, I got into the sport from that one Ferrari thirst trap where Charles is lying on the couch. Yeah, you know, that one. 

Anywho, I write these little things before I even get to writing the story and sometimes I don’t even know where I’m going with it. I know it's not Christmas yet, but the people spoke - SO HERE WE GO!

Sadly, the tag list is closed to do us reaching the 50 people mark! I never thought that I’d get there though with my story! So thank you to every one of you for making that happen! 

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all &lt;;3 

Your beanie had started to itch. You had needed it outside due to the cold weather, but now that you were in the car with the heat cranked, it was starting to get a little too warm. As you pulled up to the red light, your hand quickly yanked the hat off. Not to your surprise, your hair was sticking in all directions. That’s ok, you could fix it before you walked into the house. The light turned green, and you had to remind yourself that this was a regular car, on a regular street. Not a hybrid-engine-ran rocket ship that exceeded 300 kilometers per hour on sweet Grand Prix asphalt. 

This year, you had finally accepted Arthur’s invitation for Christmas. Earlier, you had done Christmas morning and afternoon with Max, Kelly, and Penelope. It was everything you could have wished for. And now you were going to spend the rest of the evening with your best friend and his family. You were a tab bit nervous. Sure, you had met them on a handful of occasions, but you tried not to get too close. They were always at grand prixes for Arthur, not you. 

You glanced at the presents that were stacked on the passenger side. The most important one, however, was placed in a bag on the floor. You were not about to let that fall over and possibly break. You knew it was made to be sturdy, but you couldn’t be sure. Arthur had given you the gate key. You pulled up to the little black box and pressed the numbers. You rolled your eyes as you realized that it was just Charles’s and Arthur’s racing numbers squished together. 

Arthur had also reminded you that Lorenzo was not going to be joining due to him being at his wife’s family’s for the holiday. That was one less person to impress you had told yourself. 

You pulled into their driveway and parked your car. It was not as impressive at Charles’s custom 488 Ferrari Pista Spider. It wasn’t as if you were almost drooling at the sight of it. Knowing yourself, you’d probably be too scared to drive it to actually enjoy it. Max also had a Ferrari, maybe he’d let you drive it. 

In a parking lot and not exceeding 5 kph. You snorted. Yep, that was Max. 

You did however, have your eye on two special cars. But you wanted to wait a bit before purchasing. You Pinterest board was full of different ideas, but you had to be careful. Maybe Christian could help you out with purchasing. You technically hadn’t bought this car, it was a gift from Lorenzo. You wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it might be nice to have more than one car. Besides, multiple drivers had multiple cars. You’d just join their ranks. 

Juggling the presents, you walked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Your face was hardly visible over the tops of the boxes. The door opened and a familiar voice sounded. 

“Mon Dieu, let me help you.” Presents were being taken from the big stack. 

“Thank you Charles.” You prided yourself on being one of the few people who could recognize the difference between Arthur’s and Charles’s voices. He didn’t reply as he took the presents farther into the house. You followed him through the door and toed off your shoes. Your eyes caught all the lights and decorations in the house. Growing up, you didn’t have such things. Your family always said that being in karting was always going to be your present. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no cookies for Santa and no tree to decorate. 

As you walked more into the warm house, the decorations just kept getting better. Where Max’s house was decorated by Kelly who like a clean Christmas aesthetic, the Leclerc household leaned towards the warmer decorations. The lights didn’t necessarily match and flickered colorful light. The stockings weren’t the same color: they showed personality that matched their owner. Even the ornaments weren’t all from the same container. You found Charles staring down at the presents that he had taken from you. 

“Who are these for?” he turned his head to look at you. 

You snorted, “They’re for your family.” His eyes widened as he rubbed his chin. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

You only shrugged as you began to take off your coat, “I felt like I did. You all have been so kind to invite me here on a holiday that I couldn’t come empty handed.” Charles gestured for your jacket and you gave it to him. 

“You can look around some more if you’d like to. Arthur and maman will be back from the store soon.”  Your cheeks heated at the thought of him catching you ogling at his home. You shook the thought away and looked at everything a little bit closer. 

Like all homes seemed to have, there was a wall filled with picture frames. Some were of each child; some had the full family. It was nice to see all 5 of them together in the center one. You cocked you head at one of them though. You all but tiptoed to get a closer look. It was one of Charles and Arthur, and then an unfamiliar but familiar man stood between them. 

“That’s Jules. If you were wondering.” 

You jumped in place, not noticed that he had snuck up behind you. You looked over and saw that a sad smile had graced his face. Arthur had told you little about him. Charles and Lorenzo would always have been much closer to him. 

“I met him once. During karting,” you trailed off. Charles raised his eyebrows. 

“Really?” It seemed as though the breath had been knocked out of him. 

You gave him a comforting smile, “Yeah. My race was right after yours. I think it was back in 2010,” you looked back at the picture, “and you won that day. I watched him cheer for you like he was the proudest person there that day. He was in a racing suit and had a helmet. I thought that he had come straight from a race or something. But, I only remember wishing that I had someone there for me like you had.” 

Charles now had a guess as to what day that was. He vaguely remembered finally beating Max and feeling so happy. But, he didn’t remember Jules having a helmet. He took the picture down so that the two of you could look closer. It was definitely not taken the day that you were talking about, but the way you talked about him intrigued Charles. He gave you a head nod, silently saying to continue. 

“That day, I also won my race. It hadn’t been the easiest, but the boys were too busy pushing each other off that they didn’t even notice me. I was able to overtake and win. The boys though, weren’t the only ones who didn’t notice. My parents weren’t around when I looked for them. I must have turned around so many times, just trying to find them, but I never did. I had taken my kart back to my station when someone tapped me on the shoulder. He scared the ever-loving crap out of me, but he held my shoulder and told me that I did a great job.” 

Your eyes were slightly watering at the confession. Charles just continued to look at you. 

“I knew who he was. He was the man who always cheered for the Justin Bieber look-a-like who liked to push a certain Dutchman off the track, into a puddle, and claim it was just an inchident.” Charles snorted. 

“I did not look like Justin Bieber.” 

“Whatever floats your boat.” He gave you a look. “American expression. Anyway, after he said that he gave me a hug before my dad came stomping over, complaining about something, I don’t even remember. But all I know is that he made my entire day. My godfather wasn’t able to visit that much or come see me race. So, it was nice to have someone in my corner, even if they weren’t truly there for me.” 

Charles hung the picture back on the wall. The two of you stood there for a quiet moment before Charles spoke up. “How’s your godfather?” 

You inhaled sharply. “He died in 2020. Caught some illness in 2018 and wasn’t able to recover.” 

It broke Charles’s heart to hear you talk about it so nonchalantly. 

“Does Arthur know?” 

You nodded your head. “He caught me crying the first year of his anniversary. Made me spill the beans about what happened. He thought he needed to go beat someone up.” You let out a wet chuckle. When did you even start crying? Looking at Charles, you saw that he was crying too. You continued, “Lorenzo, he, uh, died the day before I debuted in F2.” 

Memories hit Charles like an 18-wheeler. That was you? He remembered that most of the F1 drivers had been invited since the F1 and F2 races were so close together. Hell, even Max was given the opportunity to give the winner the trophy. He remembers watching you dominate that race. He watched you offer that trophy to the sky. He saw a hunger that he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

He finally spoke up, “You were incredible.” 

“Thank you,” you paused before adding, “he’d be proud of you. Jules, I mean.” You looked back at the picture and how it seemed right at home amongst the others. 

“Lorenzo would be proud of you as well.” You flashed him a grateful smile, full of teeth. He mirrored, dimples prominent. 

You threw your head back and laughed. Charles cocked his head. 

“What’s the matter?” he barely got out as he began to laugh as well. 

You poked his cheeks, “You and Thur have the same dimples.” Charles rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair. You pouted. “Rude.” 

He was about to reciprocate but the sound of the door opening caught the two of yours attention. Charles quickly pushed you into a dark room. You gave him a confused look before he put a finger to his lips. You smirked back and stayed silent. 

Pascale walked in first followed by Arthur. Charles greeted his mother and then brother. 

“I saw Y/n’s car in the driveway. Where is she?” Arthur looked around the house. 

“She went to the bathroom, but hasn’t come back. I think I scared her off,” Charles faked a sad look.  

Arthur flashed a comforting smile to his brother. “I’ll go find her. Hopefully she didn’t fall in or something.” That almost made you laugh. 

Arthur flipped on the lights to the hallway. This was your chance. He barely got past the doorframe before you jumped out onto him. 

His squeal echoed through the room, laughter following it. In your grand scheme, you had accidentally fallen on top of him. Your giggles continued as Arthur tried to push you off. He finally gave up after a few moments. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, but honestly you didn’t care. You swear you heard a click of a camera, but you disregarded it. 

“Are you done?” Arthur sarcastically asked. 

“No, I’m actually quite comfortable. Thank you for asking though,” you smirked. After a few more moments later, Arthur quickly rolled you off and got up. You let out a huff before making grabby hands at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled you up. 

You were finally able to greet Pascale. She brought you into a hug and did the two kisses. You reciprocated. It came naturally after being teammates with Arthur for so long. You smiled at the memory of him doing it to you for the first time. He was so embarrassed after until you calmed him down enough to say that you didn’t mind. You knew it was a part of his culture and that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed to do so. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” You shot her a shy smile. She rubbed your back before exiting the hug. 

“There is no need for thanks. Arthur has been begging for years.” A noise of protest rang through the air. 

“I have not.” 

“Non, it’s true. He has.” Charles looked at his brother. Arthur had a look of betrayal that sent you spiraling into another laughing fit. 

By the time you were finished, Arthur gave you a look. 

“Where’s you Christmas sweater?” You looked down at the one you were wearing. You thought it looked just fine. It was a nice dark green and Kelly had complimented you many times. 

“I thought this looked nice?” You were beginning to doubt. Maybe you couldn’t do this Christmas thing. 

Arthur shook his head before disappearing down a hallway. 

You glanced at Charles and whispered, “I ruined it didn’t I?” You looked down at your feet. 

“Non gosse, you didn’t ruin anything. Just look.” You looked back up and saw that Arthur now had another sweater in his hands. (translation : no kid)  

“I can’t believe I forgot to give you this. Sorry Y/n, we normally wear ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters to celebrate. The one you have on is fine, but this is the Leclerc celebration now.” He all but shoved you towards a bathroom so that you could change. You slipped the other dark green sweater on after you took off your first one. 

The front made you laugh. It wasn’t ugly per say, Arthur must have toned it down for you. On the front was the Grinch. It was actually kind of cute if you thought about it. You folded your first sweater and walked out. Now you noticed that Charles’s had a bright orange sweater with a gamer Santa on it; Arthur’s actually lit up; and Pascale had a cute one with a reindeer on it. 

When he noticed your return, Arthur’s arms shot up. “Now you look festive!” 

“How long did it take you to find that one TurTur?” You motioned your finger up and down, pointed at his sweater. 

His arms crossed protectively around it as he let his jaw hang. “I’ll have you know that this is imported.” 

You gave him a bombastic side eye. “Sure.” 

Pascale clapped her hands, “Picture time by the tree!” 

You kind of awkwardly stood there as she took pictures of the two boys. You warmly smiled as she gushed over the two of them. You made your way to the kitchen and picked up two bottles. Were these alcoholic? You squinted at the label. 

“Y/n!” You froze and looked at the family of three. Arthur was snickering. 

“You know you’re not allowed to drink yet.” You rolled your eyes. 

Charles shot you a mischievous smile. “Gosse, come, we’ll send a picture to old Maxy. Maybe give him a heart attack.” 

You smirked back as you walked with the two bottles. You posed in front of the tree with the glasses on either side of you. The four of you laughed as you set them down. You wanted to make a run for it, as to not ruin the pictures, but Pascale insisted that she wanted one of the three of you. 

Your heart swelled as she took a picture of you in the middle of Arthur and Charles. She also insisted to get one of just you and Arthur. Your cheeks heated as you caught her muttering about a picture to show your kids one day. You only hoped that Arthur hadn’t heard. 

He did and his heart soared at the thought. 

Once the pictures were done, everyone was able to have a few snacks and drinks, yours of course being non-alcoholic. 

Then it was time for the presents. The thing you were worried about the most. You soon found yourself seated on the floor in a half circle. Pascale was the only one in a chair, but you didn’t blame her. The boys were the ones to pass out the presents. To your surprise, you had received three presents. Your eyes wanted to water, but you blinked the tears away. 

They all opened the ones from you first. 

Arthur lit up like a Christmas tree (pun intended) when he saw what you had gotten him. The two of you had been shopping earlier in the year, when you had come across a watch shop. Arthur had wanted to buy a specific one, but was heartbroken when they said that they were sold out. But, while Arthur was having a crisis about it, you secretly asked to be put on the waitlist. They had said that they couldn’t be 100 percent that you’d get one, but there was no harm in asking. 

Surprisingly, when you got back for a small break, there was a package from the store waiting for you. You had also taken it to another watch store to have something added. 

“Turn it over,” you whispered, scared of his next reaction. He inhaled sharply at what the engraving read. 

January 25, 2020 – Best Friends for the Rest of Our Live, Keep at it TurTur! 

Arthur quickly clamored over to you and wrapped you in a deep hug. Again, you heard the sound of a camera, but dismissed it. 

Next Charles opened his. It wasn’t as sentimental as Arthur’s but you tried your best. Before hand, you had asked what type of jewelry Charles likes. You knew he was a ring and bracelet guy, but had rarely seen him with a necklace. So, you got him a simple one that he could wear with any outfit. 

He thanked you with a warm smile. 

Pascale was very happy with hers. Knowing that she had a hair salon, you googled many gift ideas for her. But every sing one of them to come up was always a pair of scissors. Wanting to do better, you did some more digging. Finally, you decided on one of those fancy circle vacuums that moves by itself. You knew how your back hurt after sweeping up a floor. You couldn’t imagine how her’s might feel. She also gave you a hug. 

Now it was your turn. 

The first present was from Arthur and it had you in tears. There in a rectangular box was a new pair of Lightning McQueen crocs. 

“You know this is like my third pair right?” 

He only nodded, “Yes, but are those pairs signed by Lightning McQueen himself?” Your eyes bulged as you turned them over. 

You were expecting Owen Wilson’s signature, but when you read it, you laughed even harder. There on the bottom, in fancy script, was Charles’s signature. You looked over at Charles as you wiped your eyes. 

“I’m honored sir.” 

Charles rolled his eyes, and touched his heart, as to accept the thanks. His present wasn’t as funny, but it was appreciated. You guessed that Arthur had told him what your favorite restaurant was because his gift was a hefty gift card. Your eyes widened when you saw the total. 

Pascale’s was very sentimental though. In her present were multiple pictures in frames. Some you noticed that she must have gotten from the internet or had Arthur reach out to Vito. The one that made you tear up was one of the last pictures taken of you and Lorenzo. Your smile was so bright as you held you trophy. You were looking into the camera, but Lorenzo was looking and smiling down at you. Your fingers traced his face. 

You placed the pictures down and brought her into a giant hug. After you were done, you wiped your eyes, overcome with emotion. Arthur clapped his hands to bring everyone’s attention to him. You almost jumped out of your skin. 

“All right, party time!” He raised his arms and started to walk toward the kitchen. 

Your eyes widened as you remembered something. “Wait!” 

The three of them stared at you. You inhaled. 

“I have one more thing. For all three of you.” They looked at you with a puzzled look. You walked over to the counter where you had placed the black bag that you came with. You gestured for them to come over. 

Arthur cocked his head, “Y/n, why’d you bring a helmet bag? We swapped helmets already.” His accent got thicker as he got more confused. 

You shook your head slightly as you let out a shaky exhale. You carefully started to unzip the bag. It was true, what Arthur said. The contents were a helmet. 

“Gosse, is this your new helmet for next year? It’s very outdated and I don’t think this is safe, ” Charles questioned, confused as to why you’d bring a helmet to Christmas. 

However, Pascale let out a gasp as her eyes danced over the helmet, now in your hands. She put her hands to her mouth. She had recognized it immediately. 

“Is this?” The rest of the question went unsaid, but you knew what she was going to say. You nodded you head and handed it to her. She turned it around, expecting all the angles. She let out a wet laugh as she carefully and slowly handed it over to Charles. Arthur stood close, looking at it as well.

“Arthur, before you got here, I was telling Charles of how I was able to meet your godfather,” you started. “And I wanted to tell you how thankful I was for his encouragement. I knew that he had come straight from a race, because he was still wearing his suit and he carried a helmet.” 

Charles made a confused face, “But he didn’t have a helmet. His hands were both empty, because he caught Arthur when he ran over to him after he showed up.” You could tell that his mind was trying to connect the dots.

“Well. He wouldn’t have had the helmet,” you trailed off. Arthur’s head shot up. 

“Because he gave it to you,” Arthur finished. Charles inhaled sharply as he looked over the protective gear in his hands. 

Pascale had come close to you, a hand around your shoulder that rubbed up and down, trying to give some comfort. 

The two boys looked as if they were going to cry. Charles let Arthur hold it. 

“How? Why?” Charles questioned, tears threatening to fall. 

“Well, I thought it had gotten destroyed or thrown away. I left it at my parent’s house, and when I told them I was moving out for reasons, they didn’t react well.” You didn’t want to give too much away. “I was sure that they were going to burn all of my things. But, I went back to see just in case. I was mostly correct; except they didn’t touch my closet. It was hiding in the back behind some clothes.” You remembered crying when you found it, holding it close for comfort. It had been one of the few things that you took from the house back to your apartment in Nice. 

“I also wanted to bring it back, where it belongs.” 

Charles glanced at you and then the helmet between Arthur’s fingers. “But, he gave it to you. You need to keep it.” 

You shook your head. “Jules told me to keep it safe and to hold onto it for safe keeping. I always thought that I’d be able to give it back to him one day. I guess this is the closest thing I can do.” 

Arthur gave the helmet back to his brother and walked over to you. You looked into his big blue eyes, filled with tears. Unable to hold back, he tucked his face into your neck, holding you tight. You squeezed your eyes closed, tears falling down your cheeks. 

You knew that Arthur always felt bad about not being as close to his godfather, like Charles and Lorenzo had been. He had been 15 when Jules died, and you always wished that the family had had more time with him. Pressure was added on your other side. Looking over slightly, your eyes caught sight of Charles’s brown hair. You managed to put your other arm around him. You held the two brothers close, your heart melting. 

Is this what a family is supposed to feel like? 

Max’s family was a different dynamic. Yes, they enjoyed hugs and being close, but it wasn’t like this where you could hold each other for hours. Well, maybe Max would let you, he was so overdue for a giant group hug.

Arthur couldn’t get over the fact that you were so close. He hoped that you didn’t hear his heart racing. He’s waited this long; he can wait a little longer. His tears had dried up, but he never wanted to let you go. Your heart was too big and too fragile for anyone else to have it. But here you were, opening it up to his family. He couldn’t have asked for someone better to hold your place in his heart. He could only dream that you held him close to your heart, as he did with you to his. 

You would never tell him, but you did. 

Charles on the other hand could not stop the tears. He wondered how long you had waited. Shy, quiet you. Before this, he had seen you a couple of times before with Max at the beginning of the break. He’d often run into the two of you shopping or getting groceries. You’d always find a way to give a small wave, before turning to do something else while Max talked to him. He wondered what was so special about you. Max, in all his life, had never looked at something as he looked at you. It was different than the way he looked at Kelly. Heck, he even looked a Penelope differently. Charles had rolled his eyes a few more times than he’d like to admit whenever Arthur would bring you up in conversation. But now, as you tried to comfort him and his brother, he finally understood. You were the family that they were missing. 

Pascale watched as the three of you broke your little hug. Smiles adorned your faces as you held the other close. She wished Lorenzo would have been here to meet you. She had a feeling that he and Charlotte would like you, as her other two sons did. 

Their little celebration started moments after, the helmet at the center. Your smile never left your face for the rest of the night. You were sad that they didn’t let you sneak in one sip of the bottled drink. 

“It’s probably not even good,” you told them as you took a sip of your drink. 

“Y/n it is good. We French know what good alcohol is,” he took a sip. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as you saw Charles gawk at him. 

“Arthur, you are not French,” you watched as Charles put an arm around Arthur’s neck. You were quick to grab his drink so it wouldn’t stain the carpet. “Yeah Charles, drag his ass!” 

Arthur held out a hand, dramatically going down. “My best friend betraying me for my brother. Could this day get any worse?” 

“Charles, you should have heard all the times he said that he was French when we would do videos.” You smirked evilly at the two. 

“Y/n! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” 

“Arthur, how many times to I have to tell you? WE ARE NOT FRENCH, WE ARE MONAGUESQE!! 

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog

ATTENTION: TAG LIST IS CLOSED

[u3pxx]

After an accident at the crime scene of their newest case, Klavier and Apollo find themselves in a situation neither of them ever imagined they would go through. Between a murder at an antique store, reopened wounds of the heart, and two incredibly observant girls, Klavier and Apollo will have to navigate their new circumstances together. Along the way, affection that had been buried deep in their souls threatens to overtake both of them. The last thing Apollo needs now is a smack to the head with a low door.

finally posting the piece i drew up for @klapollo-minibang 2023 in collaboration with the wonderful artist @taxkha and our wonderful fic writer @strawberricakeandpie!! ♥️💜 READ THE FIC HERE!!

i hope you enjoy the fic strawb has concocted and written up bc i sure do!!!! (her original prompt has been described as "den-bait" WHEEZES) and!!! the awesome art katha will be sharing once the following chapters get posted! :^] (WHICH YOU ARE ALSO NOT READY FOR!!! THEY ARE VERY DELICIOUS.)

extra stuff under read more ;^P | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

can you believe i've joined the minibang for three years straight now?! and it's been such a dang joy every time! i just love when creatives get together and create something so filled with love for the media they both love, collaboration's fun, man!

also don't mind the fact that i haven't posted the drawings i did for the '21 and '22 minibangs here ok i just made a tumbly in november of last year ok ill get to it someday ASKSKSK

and also very delighted that i get to draw about one of my favorite silly tropes to happen ASKSK which, might not be obvious by the first chapter yet but oh, you'll see it. and maybe come yell at me about the trope after you leave a nice comment on strawb's fic, neow!!!!

if you managed to read this far and still have not read the fic, what're you doing man!!!

[sunny44]

Co-parenting (Part 3)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Warnings: medical center, cuts…

Summary: Co-parenting is never easy but y/n never thought it would be so hard.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Max and I haven't been able to go on that date yet. The first time, he had to cancel because he had to go to Milton Keynes for a meeting, and the second time, I had to cancel because Maeve and I got sick and I didn't want to go and risk getting him sick too.

But after several weeks we finally managed to schedule a day, and it would be today. Maeve is going to spend the whole weekend with Carlos, which would be great because even if he hadn't, I would keep my promise to introduce them only if it was someone I knew would stay in my life longer.

But he was late, and I was getting nervous because I had asked Carlos to pick her up at seven because Max would come to pick me up at seven-thirty. And besides not wanting Carlos to see him, obviously, I didn't want Maeve to see him either.

I heard knocks on the door and ran there to see Carlos.

"I know, I know, I'm late and I'm sorry. I had to wait for the plumber to fix a pipe that was flooding my apartment and he was late, and then I got stuck in traffic, and..."

"It's okay, just hurry up." I shouted for Maeve to come quickly and handed him the backpacks.

"Why the rush and why are you all dressed up?"

At that moment, Max parked, and I panicked. He got out of the car and was smiling until he saw Carlos and stopped smiling.

"Why is he here?" I didn't know what to say. "Are you going out with him? Is that why you wanted me to leave quickly? So that I wouldn't see you going out with Verstappen?"

"It's not because of that."

"Then why?" I didn't say anything. "Answer my fucking question."

"I didn't want Maeve to see, okay? Because I stick to our agreements, she doesn't need to know that I'm going out with someone, and neither do you."

"But why him?"

"Because he invited me and I wanted to." He laughed. "Look, I don't have to give you any explanations. Focus on taking care of our daughter and I’ll deal with my live life ok?" At that moment, she appeared.

"Sorry, I couldn't find Mr. Bibbles." She said, hugging her stuffed rabbit. "Can we go Daddy?"

"Yes baby." He picked her up, and they went to the front, and luckily Max had returned to his car when Carlos passed with Maeve in his arms.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know he would be here."

"It's okay, he was supposed to arrive earlier but got delayed. Neither you nor he were supposed to see each other.”

“You didn’t want him to know that you were going out with me?”

“Carlos and I have an agreement about relationships and I didn’t want him nor Maeve to know about it right now.”

"What kind of agreement?"

“We don't introduce anyone to Maeve without the other being aware, and not with a short amount of time in the relationship, you know? We don't want to put someone in her life just for that person to leave without explanation."

"I understand."

"Our separation was amicable but also difficult; she was small and doesn't remember, but she doesn't quite understand why her friends at school have parents together and she's the only one who doesn't."

"It's okay, you don't need to explain to me." He says kindly. "I can imagine how difficult it is to raise a child, and I also understand what it's like to be the child of divorced parents; I know you're doing the best you can for her."

"Thank you."

"Well, shall we go to our date? They say the third time's the charm." I laughed and went inside to grab my purse and my phone, locked the house and went to his car.

...

The date was great; he made me laugh a lot, and I hadn't had that much fun in a long time.

I felt light, and I felt like I could be myself without being defined only as Carlos's ex or as a mother; I could be myself again.

"Just a minute." My phone started ringing, and I saw it was Carlos. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry; I took my eyes off her for 1 minute, and..." I immediately got up.

"What happened?"

"Maeve and I are at the hospital."

"Which hospital?" I grabbed my purse and started walking towards the exit, and Max came along.

…

“What happened?"

"She was on the couch with me watching a movie and she asked me for a juice box when I went to get it, she started jumping on the couch and when I heard a loud noise, I went back, and she had fallen and hit her head on the table." He spoke quickly. "I'm really sorry; I..."

"It's okay."

"It's not; she cut her head and had to get stitches. I'm a terrible father."

"Carlos, stop." He looked at me. "These things happen; kids jump on things, they fall, and they get hurt, so stop blaming yourself."

"I was just so scared, and..." I hugged him.

"It's okay, everything will be fine." He hugged me back and relaxed. "What did the doctor say?"

"That it wasn't anything serious and that I did the right thing by bringing her as soon as possible; it could have been worse if she had fallen asleep after hitting her head."

"Okay, let's go in." He went in, and I turned to Max. "I'm sorry for ruining our night."

"You didn't ruin anything; our night was perfect."

"Except when I switched back to mom mode."

"Your daughter got hurt, and you did what any worried mother would do."

"Thank you for bringing me here too."

"You're welcome." He smiled. "I would love to go out again. If you want, of course."

"I would love to. I'll send you a message, and we'll make plans."

"Perfect." He said goodbye, and I went into the room.

"Mommy." I went to her and kissed her forehead.

"Hi, sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

"My head hurts and I'm very sleepy." She gave a little smile and blinked her eyes very slowly.

"It's okay, you can sleep again." I pulled the blanket up to cover her more, and she closed her eyes and was soon asleep, and I sat next to him on the couch there.

"How was your date?"

"We don't need to talk about that."

"I know, it was just a question."

"Let's just focus on her well-being and forget about today." He agreed, and we fell into silence.

And that's how we spent the night at the hospital until we could leave the next morning.

Bonus scene!

“What a wonderful night”

Tag list: @ietss @lightdragonrayne @asplarklysoul @xoscar03 @smdrl @shobaes @evans-dejong @cocoxoxo69 @ggaslyp1 @bingewatche @loaves4me @justdreamersdream @alinacecee

Guys, the names with a line on top is because I couldn’t tag

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

 "We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

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Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 6

Hi lovelies! Please be warned that this is a heavier chapter that discusses trauma and depictions of violence! I'm sure I'm going overboard with the warnings, but I'm just wanting to make sure I cover all of my bases here! xoxo, Dany

Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Chapter 8|Chapter 9

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 5.3k CW: Slowburn, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, cuddles, depression, anxiety, protective "not-boyfriend" !Trigger Warning!: Physical violence, abuse, neglect, vague mentionings of underage sex work, drug use, torture, and drug dealing

The next couple of days seemed to creep by more slowly for the both of you, nothing drastic, just... slower, more... unpleasant. It could have been because of how good everything felt to be with each other, but at least for you, there had been another new factor.

You had still been seeing other clients while working for Lucifer, and sure, he took up the largest amount of time, but there were still others, some one offs and some regulars, and a handful of new clients. Most of them didn't give you much grief, but one of your newer clients had taken quite a shine to you, and wanted to see you more often. He was... ok...ish... not really. He was a little selfish, which was fine, but he also had an aggressive personality, and not the fun kind. He had not done anything "bad" to you yet, but he toed the line and that made you nervous.

This had not been as much of an issue until someone tipped him off that you did house calls it was Cynthhhhia, and in the last two days he had asked for you to go to his place, and he seemed to push the boundaries more outside of the brothel. Larry had always told you that if anyone made you ladies uncomfortable, that you could put them on your "No Kiss List", basically being banned from being scheduled with you, and depending on the intensity of the issue they could also get banned from the Lounge entirely.

Again, at this point, this newer guy, Jethro, had not done anything yet, so you still felt like you could handle him, but he was still a cause for some stress. The night of your next visit with Lucifer was a welcome one. When you got too Lucifer's, you pulled him into a tight embrace. He welcomed your hug, but noticed that it felt a little different, a little heavier than usual.

"Well hello to you too! Haha! Hey, you doing ok?" he said, looking at you with soft concern as your released him from your embrace.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" you smiled, trying to hide your stress from the day.

"Oh nothing, you just uh... felt a little tense is all," he said sheepishly.

"Oh! Haha, ya it's nothing. Just a long day. Lots of clients, lots of... you know," you said trailing off.

"Of course! Haha, how silly of me! Do you, uh... need a minute? Do you want to, like, take a bath or shower or something?" he asked, "By yourself of course! I'm sure a minute to yourself would be nice. Plus, I still need to finish up with dinner," he added nervously, he felt his checks tint pink.

You chuckled, you thought it was funny when Lucifer would overthink his statements and felt like he needed to clarify something.

"That sounds nice, I might just take you up on that," you smile.

"Great!" he smiled, "Chose any bathroom you like, dinner should be ready in like 30 minutes."

The two of you part ways as you headed to one of the close-by guest bathrooms and Lucifer headed back to the kitchen. Lucifer had some updates that he had wanted to tell you about from Charlie's meeting with Heaven, but he figured that could wait a little longer. Plus, he was now preoccupied by his own dumb comment.

'"You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, of course!" no duh, you idiot! She understood that's what you meant, why did you felt like you needed to clarify that?! Why do you gotta be so weird sometimes?!' he scolded himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Lucifer definitely had people that would cook for him, but he liked that it gave him something to do sometimes while he waited for you to get there in the evenings.

Meanwhile, you drew yourself a bath and slipped into it. You examined the bruises on your legs and chest from where your earlier guest had bitten and grabbed you. You were normally all for kinks like these, but these feel more forceful, and therefore made you upset to look at. You hid your legs under the water and just floated in the big tub for a while.

You smiled to yourself again as you thought of Lucifer stumbling over himself 'You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, course!' followed by that little nervous smile. It was cute, and it was funny that he kept forgetting that he could just request that if he wanted to. You wouldn't have minded, you honestly would have liked it. He would be so warm and soft, snuggling into your chest in the warm water. You realized you had only ever seen him down to a barely opened shirt, while he has seen you down to your lingerie, for a fleeting minute.

How odd it was, that he had been one of your longest running and most consistent clients and yet, you too had not been sexually intimate at all. It was nice, but also... a little disappointing? Why was that disappointing? Why did you care? And why did you actually like the thought of bathing with him?

Your thought process was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Uhh... occupied?" you said.

"There you are!" you could hear Lucifer through the door. "Jesus Christ, darling why do I have so many bathrooms?"

You shrugged, "Uhh.. cuz you're rich and its funny?"

"Hmm... That is true..." Lucifer chuckled on the other side of the door, "Anyways, dinner is ready whenever you are!"

"Ok!" you called out, and you started to get ready. As Lucifer walked away, he paused for a moment, thinking about how you were naked on the other side of the door.

He shook his head and kept walking, "Dude, stop it," he said quietly to himself.

A few minutes later, you were out, a toweling off your hair, back in your earlier clothes.

"How are you feeling?" said Lucifer as you entered the room.

"Much better, thank you," you said with a smile.

You and Lucifer sat down to eat, and Lucifer was finally able to tell you about the whole ordeal of setting up the Heaven with meeting the exhausting bureaucracy and drama of it all, and then... the aftermath of Charlie's meeting. Charlie had gone up with Vaggie, met with a bunch of the angels and seraphim, including Adam, the first man and leader of the yearly exterminations, and his right hand exorcist, Lute, and... it did not go well. Charlie had gotten them to start actually start thinking about the whole issue, then Adam dropped the whole "extermination" thing on the counsel, and most of the angels in the room knew nothing about the extermination of souls in hell! Consider the tea, spilled. Then on top of that, the council said their was not proof sinners could be redeemed, and Adam basically declared war on the Hotel.

Well, this was very stressful, but in a way that made you care more and made you forget about your worries from earlier in the day. You thought about Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel... everyone at the hotel... You were wondering how they were feeling, how they were going to get out of this. So much for your idea about moving into the hotel. You chuckled to yourself.

"What is it?" Lucifer asked.

"Oh... it's stupid," you say with a wave of your hand, Lucifer gives you a look. You sigh, "Just... puts a little damper on my daydream to try out the hotel."

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, "You were thinking about moving to the hotel?"

You sat back and shrugged, "It was... a passing thought. Nothing serious. I realize that probably would have made things complicated, it's probably just easier this way."

Lucifer studied your face, "Maybe after the next extermination, see what happens. I just don't want you to get caught up in all of that right now."

"Ya," you say, staring off. Your worries returning back to thoughts of Charlie and the others.

Lucifer read the concern on your face, and placed a hand over yours. You looked up to meet his soft smile.

"It's gonna be ok..." he said with hesitation. "I don't exactly know how it is going to be ok, I would be lying if I said it wasn't nervous... but I trust my daughter... and her friends seem to be good people... outside of Alastor," his glared off to the side at the mentioning of the Radio Demon.

He was right, maybe not all hope was lost, maybe Charlie would figure out something. You smile at the face he made, then looked down at his hand on top of yours. Your face shifted in thought in response to something he had just said, "her friends seem to be good people..." Did he really believe that? Did that visit really change his mind that much? That's not what he had made it sound like the other day. You had forgotten about that comment, and now the reminder left you with a bitter taste.

Lucifer looked over and caught your expression, "What's on your mind?"

You look at him sideways, "Do you really believe that? That her friends are good people?"

"Well... as far as I have seen, why do you say that?" he said with worried confusion.

You look up at him, "I just thought that sinners were all violent psychopaths, hell-bent on causing as much pain a destruction as they can."

Lucifer froze, shit did he really say that the other day to his daughter, in front of you and all of Charlie's friends? Yeesh.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Jeez, I really did say that didn't I?" You gave him a slow judgmental nod. He sighed, "I... I was wrong, I shouldn't have said that... I'm sorry... I realized that I have never really taken the opportunity to actually get to know many sinners, and I've passed a lot of judgement on them the last... 10,000 years. They are not like that... you, are definitely not like that... Honestly, meeting you has made me really confused on the matter of how they decide who ends up here entirely."

Your slight distain turned you curiosity, and you raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

Lucifer took a minute to try and find the words, "Uhh, well... fuck, ok... I guess I just don't understand why you are in hell in the first place. The way you treat people puts people I used to know in Heaven to shame."

You blow a puff of air out your nose in a laugh, "Maybe the way I treat you and hotel people, I'm not like this with everyone, you know?"

"Well ya... but still..." Lucifer held back his next question a moment, he didn't want to say anything to upset you. "Can I ask... um... how you ended up here?"

You prop your head up on your hand and thought, being alive felt so long ago. Lucifer waited nervously for you to answer, but he was pretty sure you didn't look mad at the question.

"You really wanna know?"

He nodded.

"Well... I was the oldest child of drug addict parents, who had no right having any kids, spent much of my life fending for myself and my siblings, my parents would not stop having fucking kids and I was basically the only parent for them. I had to do... whatever I could for them, steal from neighbors, stores, random people's cars, anything to get food and money for my siblings. When I was older, my grandmother got custody of us and it got a lot better, but we struggled a lot mentally and it was hard to shake the old habits. She had to knock some sense into me to stop stealing, but I could never get past the idea of needing to be the parent of the house. I didn't go to school until end of middle school, and when I started it was hard, I skipped school, never finished an education. I wanted to... but I was way too far behind by that point, and with so many kids, grandma couldn't get all of us caught up. I encouraged her to focus on the younger ones. I tried getting a normal job, but I ended up meeting shitty people and I get ended up selling drugs and my body to get by. It wasn't great but it made me money. I had bad and sub-par relationships, nothing great. During my last relationship, I was actually starting to learn about boundaries and shit, feeling like it might actually go somewhere... and then I was killed during a bad drug deal," you looked back at Lucifer casually as you finished your story.

Lucifer looked at you with so much heartbreak in his eyes. No pity, no belittlement, no tears, just sadness. "How are you still so full of kindness then? After all of that?"

You smiled, "Partly cuz I can act, but mostly because... everything stupid, reckless, or "sinful" I ever did... it was for my siblings. I always thought that I would damn myself to hell so that they didn't have to." You shook your head, "I sure did damn myself to hell, but... I don't know how successful I was, my siblings always seemed mad or annoyed with me... but... I just loved them all so much."

Lucifer stood up and wrapped his arms around you as you remained sitting, your head at his chest level. You were taken by surprise, but hugged him back, "What's this for?"

He released you slightly from his hug, and held your face in his hands. "If you gave your siblings even an ounce of the care you have shown me, I know you were successful, and I know they will never forget the sacrifices you made for them."

Your eyes go wide, 'Could it... could it be? Could he be right? Could you have saved them? Saved them from the same pain you endured? Could your actions have changed the course of their lives? Could you have saved them from a fate in hell?' Tears started to form in your eyes. 'No. No. No no no no no. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, no crying in front of Lucifer.' You rip your face away from Lucifer's hands and wipe your face before the tears fall.

Lucifer ached to see you tear yourself away and wipe your tears. Until this moment, he had never realized how much of a wall you had up, how much you protected yourself, how much space you gave to him and how little you gave for yourself. He knew the dynamics were weird, this not being a normal friendship and all. Those dynamics were starting to make him so frustrated, he just wanted to hold you every night and tell you how much he cared about you... but things were way too messy now. He had no idea how to untangle this, and emotionally vulnerable conversations did not seem like the best idea right now with everything going on.

"Sorry," you say as you finish wiping your tears, "Thank you, really, I mean it. I'm just... not used to that."

Lucifer smiled, "Well... I hope this can be a good... beginning to that..."

'Nice job Lucifer, fucking nailed it, idiot.' he thought you himself.

You laugh, he laughed with you. Alright, enough of that, time for some tv and snuggles. You also remembered another question you had for Lucifer from you day at the hotel. You asked Lucifer about how he could teleport, and asked if the driver was necessary or if he could just pick you up from your apartment for your evenings together. He didn't know why he hadn't thought about that before, he had been worried about people following the car back to his place, or bothering you, and that would make him feel better. Plus, it would be cool to see your place. You guys made a plan for him to just teleport in to grab you in the future.

______________________________________________________________

The next couple of weeks were a weird mixture of fun and stressful, Lucifer started teleporting in to get you right at your set meeting time and he got to see your place. It was... small, really small, and there wasn't much to it. He made a comment oh how "minimalist" it was, but you just said you didn't need a lot, you weren't used to much, which wasn't completely a lie, but you didn't want to worry him with images of the other girls trying to break into your room.

Outside of that, Lucifer had the added stressors of worrying about Charlie, the hotel, and the upcoming extermination/war with Adam. You would go a visit the hotel crew with him often, but it only seemed to ease his mind while he was there. He started to complain again about struggling a little with sleep, he would fall asleep fine, especially with you there, but he started having nightmares that would wake him up in the middle of the night and would make it hard for him to fall back asleep. You were frustrated that you did not know how to help him with that, but you also knew he could take care of himself. You couldn't fix all of his problems.

You on the other hand... had reached a boiling point with Jethro. He continued to ignoring safe words, become more controlling, manipulative, and aggressive, until one day you had enough. You stopped the scene you were in and told him that he would not stand for his behavior anymore. Jethro did not like this, and you left his house with a black eye, as well as several other bruises across your body, may be even a sprain. You ran back to the Lounge as quickly as you could, trying desperately not to cry in public.

You got into the Lounge and ran up to your room to hide. Luckily, one of the girls you were closer to saw you, and told Larry. Larry texted you, asking what happened and if he could come up to talk to you. You agreed. Larry came up to your room, you opened the door for him to see you in tears, covered in bruises, trying to ice your eye. You told Larry what happened, and he told you he was putting Jethro on your "No Kiss List", banning him from the Lounge, and that he would handle Jethro if he tried coming back in.

You thanked him, he patted your shoulder, and asked if you wanted you clients canceled for the rest of the day. You asked who was left for the day, and the only one left was "Lance". You shook your head, just asking that no walk-ins get scheduled with you between then and now so that you could be ready by "Lance's" appointment. Larry agreed, and left you to your wounds. You had no idea how you were going to pull your yourself together and hide this all from Lucifer by tonight, but you had to try.

You went into the bathroom, ran a bath, played some music, and cried, partly from the pain, partly from fear. You were so in your head from the experience, that you did not do as well keeping track of time. Before long, Lucifer teleported into your room. Lucifer was a little shocked to not see you in your room, but then he heard the music from the bathroom. Oh ok, you must have been just running a little late.

He want to go knock on the door so that he knew you were there and didn't surprise you, but then he heard something else from the bathroom that made him stop. Was that... crying? Was that part of the music or was that you? He waited, the song changed, and the crying continued. That was definitely you. He finally knocked.

You were startled by the sound of the knock, "Uhhh... occupied?"

"It's me darling, I hope I didn't startle you," you heard Lucifer's voice through the door. You picked up your phone and looked at the time. Shit! You quickly got out of the tub.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, uhh... I must have lot track of time. Busy day. Lots of clients. Uhh... I'll be out in a minute!" you say has you hurried to get dressed. Luckily, you had already brought your clothes into the bathroom with you, so Lucifer wouldn't have to see all of the bruises.

"No rush! You take as much time as you need," Lucifer called back, then he went to go take a seat on your couch.

His words made you feel a little better, but you did not want to keep him waiting any longer than you already had. You quickly did what you could to put on makeup to cover up the big bruise around your eye, you could cover the coloring just fine, it was the swelling you were worried about. It had gone down a little, but it might still be noticeable.

Part of you wishes you had canceled on him, but that would have made you sad more than anything else, and it probably would have worried him. That is if he actually cared about you. Errrr... stop that. Lucifer is not like Jethro or the others, he actually does care, at least... to some amount. You just did not want anyone to see you like this, but especially him.

Eventually you finished your makeup and looked at yourself, it would have to be good enough for today. You painted your best sweet smile on your face, and walked out the door.

"All done! Ready to go?" you said cheerful.

"Yup!" Lucifer said, trying to match your cheerful tone, but he was worried. Why had you been crying? Why were you now trying to hide it? Why were you wearing so much make up today? He hadn't seen you wear this much make up since the first few appointments you guys had. He remembered that Charlie once said girls sometimes wear more make up when they were sad because "If you look better, you feel better", so he didn't comment. He just smiled, wrapped an arm around you, and teleported you both back to his place.

You were already more relieved to be back at his place, the stress of the day still held tightly to you, but it was better here. You swung your arms around Lucifer, enveloping him in a hug. Lucifer held you back tightly, softly but firmly. He was so comforting and soft, you wanted to live in that embrace.

He didn't know what was making you so sad that day, but he wanted to do everything to make you feel better. He had your favorite dinner and dessert made, grabbed you your favorite blanket for when you guys would cuddle on the couch and watch tv later, and he was going to find that tv last that you said you used to like to watch sometimes when you were alive, "The Office."

At one point, during desert, Lucifer looked over at you and saw a strand of hair flop down front of your face. He reached over to tuck it behind your ear, but because of the angle, you didn't see his hand until it was almost near your swollen eye. You flinched and practically jumped out of your chair, shouting "No!" and covering you eye with you hand, the other was wide with panic.

Lucifer flinched his hand back, and stayed still. What was that about? You had never reacted like that before.

"Darling, is everything alright? I didn't mean to startle you," he said softly, worry painting his face.

You realize you had misunderstood what he had been trying to do and panicked, 'Shit! Shit, shit, shit!' You couldn't tell what was the greater emotion in that moment, the shame of reacting to Lucifer, or the fact that the emotions from earlier where about to bubble up again. 'Do I try to push it down? Do I run for the bathroom? Shit. There is no hiding it, is there? He is going to find out about it now.'

You start to sit back down, still covering your eye, "I, uhh... I'm sorry... I don't... I didn't mean to yell at you like-"

"(y/n)" Lucifer said firmly, you look at him with your uncovered eye, tears starting to fill up the edge of your vision, "Please. Please tell me what's wrong. Why are you covering your eye? What made you jump so hard?"

You start to breathe heavily, "Are you sure you want to know?" you say with tears in your voice.

"Yes, my darling, I do. More than anything," Lucifer said, standing up slowly to come closer to you.

You look down, breathe, and lower you hand. Now that he was looking right at your eye, he could see how swollen it was under all of the make up.

"Is that... a black eye?" he said panicked. You nodded. He started to put some context clues together.

"Someone did this to you?" he asked, a little more sternness in his voice. You nodded again, the tears were starting to fall. "Someone from the Lounge?"

You nodded, "A client," you whispered.

"Did he do anything else?" he asked, trying to hold back the growing anger in his voice. You nodded. "Can you show me?" You froze, looking down, more tears falling, "Please don't be mad at me, I didn't want you to know, this shouldn't be something you worry about-"

"Darling," he says cutting you off again, "I am not mad at you, I am however mad at the sick fuck that did this to you. And I will worry about you, because I want to. Do you understand me?" You were not used to hearing him talk like this, it was scary, but in a comforting way. His words were growing in anger, but you understood it was not at you, it was for you.

You look up at him to see that his eyes had changed color, basically inverted, black slitted pupils now surrounded by golden irises and deep blood red sclera. They were terrifying and beautiful at the same time. You nodded, finally answering his question, and you started to take off your sweater. Lucifer saw your arms and torso littered with different sizes of bruises and deep bite marks. At the sight of them, horns grew out from his temples and a tail lashed out from his back. Again, he looked scarier, but for some reason, you were not afraid. You actually felt... safe? You had never seen someone so mad for you before.

Lucifer gently and slowly reached out for your arm, trying to make sure not to scare you further. "Is it like this on your legs too?" You nodded. You were about to ask if he needed to see them, when he pulled you into a tight hug. You were confused, but welcomed it. His hugs were always nice but this one felt, even better? All of your bruises and bites started to feel, lighter, and then the pain was gone. Lucifer released from your hug, and you looked down to see all of your marks were gone.

'He could heal too?! Fuck, is there anything he can't do?'

"Better?" he asked. You nodded. "Good, now. I'm gonna need a name and location. Now." he paused, "please."

You hesitated, you weren't supposed to tell anyone who you had been meeting with. But... he had not specifically asked for digression, and he was banned from the Lounge, and it would probably save Larry and the girls some trouble, and... fuck it, it was hell! Who cared!

"What are you going to do to him?" you asked. He smirked with a wicked smile, carefully reached out to softly hold your chin, and with a demonic resonance to his voice, he whispered, "Why darling, I'm going to make him suffer in a way that this realm has not tortured and tormented a soul in EONS, I am going to rip him his own dimension of time and space where he will be able to experience his body being ripped apart, piece by piece, and put back together, over and over again, for the rest of eternity."

You had no idea how to picture that and you didn't care... it was terrifying, but Lucifer's power was fucking HOT.

"Uhh... Jethro Hanson. Big house out in Pentagram city, near the inner city, very bright red, can't miss it," you spit out. He smiles, unfurls his six, big, beautiful wings from his back, gives you a soft kiss on the hand and says, "I'll be right back," before opening a portal above him and flying into it. It closes behind you and leaves you alone, in the dining room.

Your heart was racing, there were too many feelings swirling inside your mind, joy, sadness, rage, fear... lust. God, his full demon form was hot, what the hell? After a few minutes, the adrenaline wore off, and you found yourself on the couch starting to cry again, but this time... it felt GOOD. These tears were cathartic like nothing you had ever felt before, a hard, powerful cry.

After about 15-20 minutes, Lucifer reappeared, the same as he looked when he had left, just wiping his hands on themself after a job well done, as you would after a job well done. Lucifer heard your cries and ran to you, getting in his knees in front of you on the couch and cocooning you in his wings.

"Darling, what's the matter? I'm so sorry, did I scare you?" he said with words full of worry.

You shook your head, smiling and pressing your forehead to his, "No. Not at all. I'm just... I'm good. Really. I'm just not used to... feeling cared about, and... protected..." You choke out, before continuing to sob.

'Shit, shit, ok, what do I do?' he thought to himself. Then he remembered. He retracted his horns and tail, set his eyes back to their normal color, picked you up, laid down on the couch, and positioned you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, wings wrapped around you. As you laid there, he rubbed your back as you continued to cry. "And as long as I am here, you will never have to know life without that, ever again," he said softly, so softly that you couldn't make it out over the sound of your own sobs.

Slowly, your tears started get get quieter, and your breathing started to slow. As Lucifer laid there with you on his chest, he started to card his fingers through you hair. What a dream you were to him, he had be so cared for by you, and now he was able to give that care back to you. That was honestly all he had wanted, was to have someone to be cared by and for. To have... someone to love.

Love?

Love.

'Oh my god... do I love her?' he thought at he looked down at your soft face. Studying the features of your face as you laid on his chest with this new idea, everything suddenly made sense. The nervousness, the desire for closeness, the way you lit up his world, the way your smile would wash his cares away.

He loved you.

That was about to make everything wayyyy more complicated.

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