#she prefers to be ignorant because the truth upsets her

[whippedcloudsofcream]

Cate is seriously staring to annoy me. How do you obviously know the US military is shady and violent, but still blame Godzilla for the G-Day disaster?

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seven

authors notes: so this one leaves probably more questions than answers, but there's also a lot of things sprinkled throughout, and all questions will be answered....eventually.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, language, discussion of parental loss, brief (two line) flashback of aftermatch following csa, suggestive themes, ptsd trigger

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 8k

Solana: Are you busy today?

Normally, Roman would keep his phone face down during business meetings but with increasing communication with Solana, he’s leaned more on the side of having it face up so he’s aware when notifications come through. 

It’s not a priority. Just a…..preference. 

Grabbing his phone, he quickly shoots her back a text.

Roman: What do you need?

Before he can put his phone back down, those three dots appear. He keeps the thread open for her reply to slide in.

Solana: Nvm. I’m sorry to bother you.

Roman curses inwardly, barely keeping it to himself and not making the room of men aware of his frustrations. He can acknowledge Solana has slightly improved with her over–apologizing over the past couple weeks, but it’s moments like this that get him upset all over again. 

He fucking hates repeating himself.

But….

There’s that small, annoying ass, nagging voice in the back of his head that reminds him of why she’s always so apologetic, why she thinks her damn existence itself is an inconvenience. And he can’t really fault her, blame her for years of trauma fucking with her mental.

Roman: You’re apologizing again. How many times I gotta tell you to stop that shit?

It could probably, definitely, be worded better. Maybe even a bit…kinder. But Roman is a lot of things. 

Kind is not one of them.

He then adds, knowing she’ll probably try to find another excuse to not be honest with him. 

Roman: What do you need? The truth, Solana. 

There’s an appearance and disappearance of those dots at least three or four times. He can picture her biting down on her bottom lip as she tries to word what probably is a simple request as best she can.

The amount of overthinking she does has to be fucking exhausting.

Solana: I was just gonna see if you could meet me at the library. I wanted to show you something.

Solana: But, it’s not a big deal! Please forget I said anything.

A couple of things strike Roman strange, two in particular. The first being that as soon as she says what she needs, the answer is an automatic yes. Like, it’s not even something he really thinks too much about, but he also chalks it up to a level of genuine curiosity. This might be the first time she’s actually directly asked him for something.

It must be important. Important enough for her to ask him to come see whatever it is, at least.

It’s why he doesn’t even comment on her second, follow up text.

Roman: What time you get off?

He can make whatever work.

Solana: It’s okay. Really.

This damn girl….

Roman’s jaw clench as he types out a text that matches his mood. 

Roman: Solana….

She’s giving him a damn migraine. He’s not sure why he doesn’t just ignore her at this point. If it’s that fucking important, she wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time.

But then the stupid nagging voice returns, reminding him that her even asking in the first place is a huge deal that shouldn’t necessarily be shot down because of lingering struggles that are probably going to be around for a while.

Solana literally has years of baggage and trauma she needs to heal from.

And that shit doesn’t happen overnight.

Solana: 3pm

Roman blows out a breath. Fucking finally. 

He lays his phone back down, not necessarily wanting to hear any pushback or counter arguments she might try to supply, fake ass reasons she wants to back away from her assertive request. 

Not happening. 

Roman: I’ll be there.

“Jey.” Roman’s deep voice cuts through the group who set their eyes on him. “I need you and Jimmy to handle the Barrett meeting for me.”  While the twins are annoying as shit majority of the time, they’re effective all of the time. Roman has trusted countless meetings with them, and none have turned out badly. They always get shit handled. 

His cousins both echo okayness with this change in plans, as expected. The same way Roman expected his Wise Man to be the one with questions.

“My Tribal Chief, we’ve had this meeting scheduled for weeks. What could possibly be more important?”

It’s a fair question, Roman isn’t too stubborn to admit that. But, it’s also not a question that applies. Again, it’s not that Solana is important, per se, it’s just that if his alternative is dealing with Barret’s loquacious business dealings, he’d prefer Solana.

He’s also partially intrigued by the mere fact she’d even had the balls to ask something of him in the first place. It’s promising. Assertiveness has always been more attractive to him than passiveness. 

Roman’s answer is both simple and vague. “I have somewhere to be.”

“But—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s childlike smile deepens suddenly, as if he’s been picked to be fucking line leader. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Who’s the Tribal Chief?”

Rikishi is the only one to offer a visible reaction, hiding his chuckle. He knows exactly where this is going, even if his decades old friend does not. 

“Y–you are, my Tribal Chief.”

Romans voice is sharp and lethal. “So why the fuck are you asking me to answer to you?”

Paul’s expression pales. “I would never, my—”

“Sound like it to me,” Jimmy’s messy ass chimes in. He looks at Jey. “What you think, Uce?”

“Sound like it to me too.” Jey, as expected, agrees. Only for him to nearly fall back in his seat when he jumps up so both feet are on the expensive ass leather. Roman is annoyed all over again for a new reason. “Ayo, Uce, ya’ll got a rat problem!”

At that, Jimmy is twinning with his brother in more than just appearance, also with his feet off the floor and onto the leather chair. Roman hopes they both fall over and break their goddamn necks. Rikishi can handle Barrett just fine.

“Ain’t you like a goddamn billionaire? How the hell you got Stuart Little and his fam running around your crib!”

Roman’s gaze follows the line of vision the twins are so damn focused on only to be met with Dulce calmly walking past both of them to sit in front of him, looking up with a tilted head. 

She’s clearly looking for Solana. 

And he knows this because it’s become a bit of a habit. If he’s home and she’s not, Dulce’s nosy ass seems to seek him out as if he’s supposed to magically make her owner appear. It’s not something he’s brought up to Solana, because he knows she would just freak the fuck out and over apologize for Dulce “bothering” him. 

And that’s not the case. 

It’s a bit annoying, but it’s not a bother.

His staff keep an eye out for her when Solana works, and he’s even seen Solana come back to the house on her lunch breaks to check in Dulce, so he doesn’t mind. She’s keeping up her end of the deal, being the primary caretaker for the puppy. 

“That’s Solana’s dog.”

Jimmy’s bewildered gaze is on him. “This a dog?”

“Yes.”

“You let her get a dog? Like a real ass dog?”

“You fucking see her, don’t you?” At that moment, Dulce calmly lays down on the floor next to Roman’s feet which are literally bigger than her small ass. It’s followed up by Paul starting to sneeze. 

Jey, who is now sitting back in his chair like a normal human being, points out, “man, you hate dogs.”

Naturally, Roman goes a bit on the defense, shoulders straightening. “I don’t hate them.”

Jimmy makes a sound, also with his feet planted on the ground. “Bruh, you literally use to tell us when we was growing up, ‘I hate dogs.’ That’s why we started calling you Big Dog, cause it was funny to see you get all mad and shit.”

Roman may or may not remember that, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to acknowledge it. Besides, he’s allowed to change his mind. Hate was always probably too strong of a word to use anyway. 

There are a lot of things Roman hates, even more people that he hates, but dogs are not on the list. 

It was more irritation than anything.

“Whatever.”

“What’s her name?” Rikishi asks, bending over his chair to try to catch Dulce’s attention.

Roman watches the puppy gradually make her way over his cousin, ears dropping as he gently rubs the top of her head. “Dulce.”

“Dul–what?”

This…..this is why Roman is on high blood pressure medication, why Dr. Michaels recommended he start wearing one of those smart watches to monitor his heart rate and other shit. Not that he did it.

“Dulce. It’s Spanish.”

“Aw man, why you ain’t say that in the beginning?” Jimmy turns to Jey. “The dog only speak Spanish.” He looks over at his dad who now has Dulce in his lap, continuing to pet her. Roman rolls his eyes. This dog is a damn attention whore, just like he predicted. “Hola, lil’ chalupa.”

Jey punches his brother on the arm. “Uce, you can’t be saying that kind of shit. It’s racist.”

“No, it’d be racist if I called the dog Taco Bell since her mama half Mexican, but I ain’t do that shit, cause I like Soso.”

“Stop calling her that.” 

Jimmy avoids Roman’s warning and proceeds to ask with all of the intrigue. “So not only did you let her bring a dog up in here, but you let ole’ girl pick a rat for said dog?”

Already irritated and on edge, Roman isn’t sure why Jimmy’s question irritates him as much as it does, and not even because it's a question that’s being posed when he’s trying to review a contract. It’s that Jimmy is questioning Solana’s decision in general.

He answers as calmly as he’s capable of responding. Roman also notices that Paul is red as a tomato as he pulls out an Epipen. Roman easily brings his focus back to Jimmy. “It’s what she wanted.”

“Should have got a big dog,” Jey suggests, hovering over by Rikishi as he tries to interact with Dulce whose eyes are fluttering closed. Roman swears this damn dog sleeps 23 out of the 24 hours in the day. 

That answer is simple, Roman grabbing a pen to sign off on the contract in front of him. It’s satisfactory enough. “She’s scared of them.”

“What is she not scared of?”

But that comment, for whatever reason, is what makes him snap. “Get out.”

Both the twins are unfazed, but it seems to trigger something for them as Jimmy exclaims, “I forgot!” He looks over at Jey, reminding. “Remember, Soso made some extra food for us.”

“Oh shit, she sho’ did!” 

Roman makes a mental note to write Solana about that. It’s not her job to keep feeding his grown ass, married ass cousins. 

The two bid their farewell, Jey shouting out as his parting term, “yeet!”

“Stop doing that,” Roman calls after their retreating forms as Paul also excuses himself for some air. 

Maybe he really is allergic to dogs. 

Rikishi stands up and walks over to him, still holding Dulce but not saying anything. He’s just looking like he wants to say something. Another of Roman’s pet peeves, of the many.

With a mutter and scowl, he asks, “what?” 

His cousin simply shrugs, nonchalantly commenting. “The girl is growing on you, Uce.” It’s an assessment, for certain.

However, Roman has zero desire to have this conversation with his older cousin, or anyone, in general. Hence, his vague ass reply of, “she’s tolerable.”

Because that’s the truth. Solana is neither amazing nor insufferable. She’s in a pretty balanced space between the both: tolerable.

Rikishi gives him that sly ass look that makes Roman want to punch him in his fucking face. “E tua le fale tele i le faleo’ o.”

It’s an old Samoan proverb that means “Even the mighty need others.”

Instantly, Roman’s gaze is cutting. “I don’t need anyone.” He never has, and he never will.

Rikishi just offers a knowing smile, lowering Dulce back to the ground and placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Of course not, Uce. Of course not.” The older man says nothing else, just walking out, Dulce returning back to stand by Roman’s feet, head up, staring at him.

He rolls his eyes, murmuring as he gets back to work. “She’ll be home later.” 

Dulce barks in response. 

________

The minute Roman pulls up to Solana’s job, sees the expression on his cousin’s face, he knows something is up.

Solo may have a dangerously good poker face, but Roman invented that shit. 

He got the blueprint from Roman. 

Solana is sitting near the front of the building, surrounded by fucking children as she reads some basic ass book that they’re all clearly eating up based upon how they can’t seem to take their eyes off her.

Roman isn’t entirely indifferent, instantly taking note of her outfit, more colorful, less covered. It reeks of Naomi’s influence, but in a good way. 

As always, she looks good, better than good.

Not wanting to interrupt, Roman motions for a few of his men to take Solo’s place as he gestures for his younger cousin to follow him.

As soon as they’re outside the building, Roman gets right into it. “You got something to say, so say it.” 

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that despite his brutal fighting abilities, the man is always careful and meticulous with his words. Unlike his hot headed older brother, Jey, Solo always thinks before he acts.

It’s why Roman doesn’t think twice about the space between the issuance of his prompt and Solo’s answer.

“You made me your enforcer for a reason, yeah?”

It’s an easy answer. “Yes.” 

“You upped me in the ranks to prove myself, right? To earn my way into the inner circle?”

Roman is already bored with the conversation, but considering this is family, he throws a bone. “Yeah.”

“So just how am I supposed to do that when you got me playing babysitter to your new wife?” The turn in topics as well as increase in Solo’s volume does slightly, very slightly, take Roman by surprise. Granted, he does a masterful job, as always, hiding that surprise. “Any lower guy could do this shit. She don’t—”

“Solo.” Roman gives him that tight smile and scratches his beard, typically the last thing people see before they meet their maker. “You answer to me. You do what I say you do, and I say you’re assigned to Solana.”

Roman doesn’t know what’s in the fucking water for people to be testing him the way they are, but it’s really starting to piss him off.

Solo looks down, clearly embarrassed by this talk down but not enough to shut his mouth. “I get that, but—”

“Wasn’t she already hurt once under your watch?” Roman’s voice is razor sharp as he reminds the younger man of his failure. The memory of that fucking bruise on Solana’s wrist from her bitch of a brother returning all of those strong emotions. “I gave you a job, and you didn’t do it. She got hurt while under your protection. It’s because you’re my cousin, you're even still breathing right now. You know better than anyone I don’t accept failure.”

At that, Solo concedes, knowing good and well there is no excuse or justifiable reason. “I understand, my Tribal Chief.”

Roman does his best to chip away some of his anger at this outright disrespect as well as the memories of Solana hurt. He steps past his cousin, calling out over his shoulder. “And Solo, don’t think because you’re family I won’t put a bullet in your head for questioning me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Roman can see Solo still has his head down. “Fail me again, let her get hurt again, and I’ll put your ass six feet under.”

Roman doesn’t allow the conversation to persist beyond that, big steps taking him back to the library just in time to see the children disperse, whipping past him as Solana approaches. The wedges on her feet give her a bit more height, but he still towers over her, which is a usual experience for him.

But, it doesn’t negate the fact that she’s so damn small.

“Hi,” she greets in that familiar unsure voice, eyes darting from him to the ground. “Sorry—I mean—story time ran a bit over.”

He’s appreciative she at least caught the apologizing before he had to call it out. “It’s fine.”

She offers a tight smile and motions for him to follow her, which he does, just as his eyes follow the sway of her ass as she leads the way.  

He’s starting to really enjoy seeing her in jeans. 

She leads him up the stairs and in the back area he’d visited her before what seems like so long ago, finding that her bastard of a brother had manipulated her into being alone with him. The last fucking time that shit will ever happen.

She pulls a key out her back pocket and unlocks the door, informing, “I have to grab something first.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. It’s like she feels the need to justify every little thing she does. 

Roman watches her walk over to the desk, leaning over as she grabs him something out of her bag, a notebook, the journal he first found her writing in the first time he came to see her at her place of employment. 

She’s back by him, closing and locking the door. “Come on.”

Typically, if this was anyone else, Roman would have demanded to know just what the fuck was so important that caused him to have to rearrange his whole schedule. Granted, he can’t take that out on her, nor would he ever, when he’s the one who rearranged his whole schedule for her. She didn't ask him to do that shit. 

He did it on his own volition for reasons unknown. 

The walk to the next stop doesn’t take long at all, Solana soon sticks her key in another, unfamiliar door, opening and stepping aside but directing him to walk in.

He does as such, naturally and instantly taking in his surroundings once she hits the light switch. It’s a room obviously, a previous storage room he would guess based upon the large filing cabinet lined against the wall to the right of him. There’s also another couple pieces of furniture against that same wall, like a desk and mini bookshelf, but that’s not what immediately catches his attention.

He’s instead more interested by the remaining walls that are essentially lined with larger, white bookshelves, all filled with a combination of notebooks, books, and journals. Completely filled. 

Intrigued but also confused, the latter of which is unfamiliar to him, Roman turns to Solana, asking, “what is this?”

Her cheeks redden, but she manages an answer that’s somehow not marked by as much stuttering. “There are all my journals—well,” she stops, giving a nervous laugh. “Most of them. Some are books I’ve read, and….” She walks over to a section that somehow seems different from the others, albeit lined up neatly with the rest of the items. Solana’s hand almost hesitantly feathers over the spines of the journals. At closer look, Roman can see they’re a bit dated and worn than the others. “These were my mother’s.”

Her answer surprises him, but he quickly recalls her sharing that she started writing because of her mother, because they wrote to each other.

She clears her throat and then turns back to him, sharing, “every time I finish a journal, I leave it here.”

Obviously. “Why here?”

“My mom started it. It—it was an arrangement she had with Mrs. Jensen. She worked here, and along with her pay, she arranged so she could keep her writings here and after….” Solana starts to hesitate, and Roman can see it’s because emotion is brewing. Just gently bubbling under the surface. “After she died, I kept up with it.”

Roman recognizes the sensitive nature of the subject and makes a subtle effort to change the topic on her behalf. “You’ve really written in all of these?” It’s impressive. He has to give her that. The thought of writing in general has never appealed to him, so for her to have a room full of journals she’s completed is fucking impressive. 

She nods, adding sheepishly, “filled em’ up.” Solana then takes the one in her hand, lifting it a bit. “Finished this one this morning.” He watches her squeeze it into a row that’s probably already being pushed to the limit.

She’s going to run out of space eventually.

She’ll need something bigger, sooner rather than later. Roman compartmentalizes this for a later date and time to navigate.

“You keep em’ here to hide them also, don’t you?”

“They can never know what I’ve written….” She doesn’t need to say who they are. It’s more than obvious. It’d be a sure death wish. “I just—-I know you said you’d write for now and it’s been almost a month, but—but I—I figured if you knew just how important and helpful writing is to me—”

“Solana.” There’s no need for her long ass, drawn out explanation. He understands now why she wanted him to see this space, the goal behind the request. “We’ll write as long as you need it.”

He watches her shoulders drop, a sign of relief. She bites back a smile he wouldn’t be opposed at seeing. She looks even better when she’s smiling. “Thank you.”

He only nods, and Solana finds herself taking him in. 

All of him.

In recent weeks, she’s discovered yet another newfound difficulty and source of anxiety for herself. And that new addition would happen to be in the form of the 6’3 man before her.

Roman has always made her nervous, for a variety of good and valid reasons, but recently, the cause of that anxiety has shifted to something else, something a bit on the unfamiliar side for her, or rather something she hasn’t really had to think about since her last disastrous relationship.

Attraction

Solana has come to terms with the fact that she’s attracted to Roman, yes, but also that she hasn’t the slightest clue of what to do about and with that said attraction.

It’s always been there, to a certain extent, but it was more dormant, something she knew was present but voiceless and nameless, almost invisible.

Now, in interacting and engaging with him more, it’s formed more defining characteristics, creating a sense of butterflies in her stomach whenever his smoldering gaze falls on her or when he says something to her, that deep, baritone voice sprouting goosebumps on the back of her neck.

It also doesn’t help that he’s indicated a couple of different times now that he also finds her attractive, or pretty, beautiful even.

That he thinks she looks good.

None of that makes sense to Solana nor can she understand why he would believe any of those things, but she would never make him out to be a liar, so it must be true, to some extent.

And therein lies the dilemma. 

One of many that exist in her life.

How she’s supposed to balance attraction with fear, desire with aversion, peace with trauma. It’s all a muddled mess. 

“Solana.”

“Sorry.” He only has to sigh one time for her shoulders to sulk, but instead of apologizing, she points out in a small voice. “It’s—it’s a habit.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a fucking habit to break.” His irritation is palpable, and Solana feels even smaller around him, like she’s done something wrong. “It’s not you I’m annoyed with.”

“Oh.” And that genuinely surprises her. In Solana’s experience, she’s always been the source of people’s, especially the men in her life, exasperation. But before she can step out of her comfort zone and ask him what’s wrong, he informs her of something that completely makes her emotions flip and twirl into a puddle of distress.

“Your father called for you today.” And just like that, any sense of relation and ease she’d achieved is dissipated, replaced with growing unrest. “Relax…” It’s not missed upon Solana how Roman’s tone quickly and almost easily jumps from irritated to almost soothing, like he’s trying to calm his nerves. “I told him to fuck off.”

That doesn’t make her feel any better. “He doesn’t like being told no.”

“And you think I give a fuck?” His deep voice is full of indifference and edge, but this time around, Solana knows it’s not directed towards her. He then asks, “do you want to talk to him?”

It takes her off guard. “What?”

Roman repeats himself with a surprising lack of irritation. “Do you want to talk to him?” 

Solana can’t remember the last time she was asked such a question. Been given a choice. Then again, it’s happened quite a few times since her marriage to Roman, starting with Bayley asking her something as simple as how she wants her makeup done. 

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Just another thing added to that mounting list of confusing and conflicting thoughts and feelings. 

“If you want to, I’ll allow it.” He quickly adds the caveat. “But not without me present.”

Prior to the past couple weeks, Solana would suspect Roman’s stipulation stems from a place of possessiveness. But now….now it feels like it comes from someplace else, something so unfamiliar and foreign. 

Protectiveness. 

It feels like he’s being protective of her. 

His proclamation from earlier returns to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you.”

He’d also included a list of people he wouldn’t allow to do as such, including her dad and brother, which is why he clearly would only let Solana speak to her father if he’s around. 

It’s just the why that has her stumped.

But, back to the question being posed, the easiest and most simple answer is no. She’d rather not be around someone who’s only ever left her hurt, emotionally and/or physically. Or allocated that task to her brother. 

Not to mention the fact that the only reason he probably wants to talk to her is to discuss this nefarious plot she still refuses to allow herself to think about because it’s so inconceivable. 

“Not really,” she answers after what feels like forever, “but…”

Roman picks up on her hesitation. “But?” 

“Like I said, my–my father doesn’t like being denied.” And before he can protest or again reiterate his outright indifference to her father’s feelings, Solana adds in a quiet voice, “and I usually end up being the one to pay for it.”

Roman steps towards her, and before she can process what’s happening, his finger is under her chin, tugging so that her head is lifted, eyes locked with his. 

His voice lowers, quietly asking, “you still don’t believe me when I say I won’t let anyone hurt you, huh?” It’s rhetorical, sure, but Solana is too focused on the fact that this man is touching her. It’s as innocent as innocent comes, but it’s still touch, something she usually hides away from like the plague. However, outside of the initial shock and borderline discomfort, Solana doesn’t jump away, doesn’t feel the need to put as much distance between them. She’s almost….almost comfortable.

“I’m going to kill them both, eventually.  Fucking with them in the meanwhile only makes the outcome that much more worthwhile. But…” And the surprises keep coming, especially as he makes her aware of his intentions. “One word. All I need is one fucking word from you. That you want them gone, and it’s done. No questions asked.” 

Power.

Solana wonders if this is what power feels like, the ability to say one single word and have a life be ended. How she feels about those lives belonging to her brother and father remains to be seen, but even being given such an option, such an almost promise, it’s an indescribable experience.

Roman’s brown eyes, light and contrasting everything about him that is sharp and hard, study her. “You understand me?”

Naturally, she nods against his index finger that’s under her chin, demanding maintained eye contact. 

“I need words.” It’s a reminder from the infamous wedding night, something that seems so far in the rearview mirror now. 

“Y–yes.”

He seems pleased by this acknowledgment, enough to pull his hand away from her, Solana trying not to make too much of the strange sensation that floats in her stomach at the absence of his touch. 

Roman suddenly offers. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll up your security detail.” Before she can protest and probably apologize if she’d unintentionally indicated it wasn’t already enough, he asks, “you get off at 3 every day?”

“Essentially, y–yes.” 

“I’ll start meeting you.”

The surprises just keep on coming.

Instantly, she feels bad, shaking her head. “You don’t have to—”

“Solana.” This man must get tired of having to say her name, she’s certain of that. “I’ll meet you.” He says the same thing, but this time, she knows not to push back because it’s a done thing. “Just make sure I have your updated work schedule.”

“Wh—what about Solo?”

“He’ll still be assigned to you for any other outings.” This makes her feel a little better, that he’s not entirely rearranging and inconveniencing himself for her. “You ready to go?”

Yes. No. Maybe. There’s so many different questions she has with only a select number of answers, but in this moment, she goes with the one that feels most right. 

Especially with Roman reaching for her hand.

Nodding, she swallows and accepts his gesture, noticing how his large hand closes over hers, almost protectively.

“Yes.”

________

“That for me?” Solana looks up from the notebook she’s almost certain she’ll have filled and completed by the end of the month. Roman’s presence and question both catch her off-guard. She didn’t really expect to speak to him again today, especially after he already spent time with her earlier that day. She figured he’d had his maximum daily dosage. 

Especially after she’d already prepared and fixed dinner for him, the two of them falling into their now routine of him eating in his office, her in the living room before she makes her way out back to the patio where she either writes or, now, plays with Dulce.

Solana shakes her head, answering softly as Roman sits on the chair opposite her.  “no. It’s…”

“About your mom?”

With him now aware of the nature of some of her writing, she answers, “yeah.” Roman’s question triggers something she’s certain she intentionally never commented on because it was such a shock to her system that she really didn’t know how to respond. “When….when you said it wasn’t my fault….did—did you mean that?”

If she expected there to be delayed response or even confusion on his end, she was entirely wrong because he answers almost on the spot. “Yes. I told you, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She’s starting to believe that. 

Wetting her lips, she informs in that same small voice, “no one’s ever said that to me before.”

Xavier’s unshaven face and dark, judgmental gaze is focused on her, Solana doing her best to ignore the pain that wrecks her body, the beeping of the machines and IV’s in both her arms. The throbbing between her legs is equally scary as it is confusing. What did they do to her, and why did it hurt so much?

He pulls the cigar from his mouth, dropping and stomping it on the floor, gruff voice asking, “why didn’t you fight back?” He shakes his head, spitting at the same spot that’s littered with remnants of one of many poor habits. “You’re weak just like your mother.”

Roman’s firm voice snatches her away from spiraling too deeply in dark memories of an even darker past. She does her best to shake away any sign she was about to dissociate when he surprises her for what feels like the 10th time today, almost quietly sharing, “My mother was killed when I was ten years old.” There’s a synchronous dropping of her mouth and stomach at the exact same time. “You think that shit was my fault?”

The answer is obvious and immediate. “No. Of–of course not. You were—you were just a kid.”

While her response is borderline automatic, coming from a place of pure logic, everything else is so confusing. Roman’s mother is….dead? Not even dead but murdered when he was a child?

Just like hers.

Solana doesn’t know how to process this. It’s not until this very moment that she realizes not once has she ever considered or thought about his immediate family, like parents and even siblings. At the wedding, so many people were present, obvious family members of his, but she’s just now realizing she never considered who was who. Were they all cousins, aunts, in-laws even? 

Where is the rest of his immediate family? Better yet, who makes up his immediate family? She’s aware of the twins and even his older cousin Rikishi, but is there not more?

“So were you.” She can’t tell if Roman intentionally works to redirect the focus back onto herself or if he’s unaware of the fact she’s suddenly wondering just how much about the man across from her she still knows nothing about it. “So why is it different for you?”

It’s an effective diversion and valid question that she’s never once asked herself.

“No one’s ever said that either.” Her voice is only a couple octaves above a whisper, and Solana finds herself sharing more than she’s probably ever divulged to anyone. “When I….when I’m writing, a lot of the times, I’m writing letters to my mom.” Having this conversation with anyone, let alone Roman, of all people, wasn’t on her life agenda. But, it seems like a lot of ‘nevers’ are gradually morphing into ‘actualities.’

It’s such a strange experience, too.

“Like I said, we used to write to each other, and after….after she was killed, I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I think at the beginning, I kept doing it because….because I didn’t want to accept she was gone.” The understanding and underlying emotion shifts to the surface, resulting in her quickly wiping at her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Like I was waiting for her to write me back.” It’s not missed upon Solana how Dulce suddenly moves closer, tucking her body right up against Solana’s thigh. “And I’ve kept at it over the years, cause—she was the only person I could ever talk to.”

Roman repeats the same message he wrote to her, almost reminding her of a lifeline she’s gradually starting to realize is available for the first time in almost twenty years. “You can talk to me, Solana.”

And she is. She doesn’t know how and especially why, but she is, and as heavy as the topic is, there’s a hint of relief at finally having another living, breathing person to speak to and with about these things. 

Especially…..especially someone who can maybe relate to her. “How did you do it—how did you….move past it?”

It’s not the best wording, she’s certain of that. Losing a parent. Having a parent be murdered isn’t something one gets over. 

Solana knows this better than most, but Roman….he’s so composed, so together, so unbroken. 

So unlike her. 

His expression darkens as he answers in an eerie but calm voice. “I got my revenge, and I killed every single son of a bitch who played a role.” His delivery unsettles her a bit, but he seems to easily shift back into that almost patient tone she’s only ever heard him use….with her. “But, I’m not like you, Solana. You're innocent. My ledger bleeds red.” Solana doesn’t know what it looks or even sounds like for Roman to be uncomfortable, but his delivery in the next part definitely feels as such.  “I don’t….feel things like you do. You feel everything. I feel nothing.”

She whispers. “I wish I was like that, that I didn’t feel.” Because it’s true. Because it’s how she initially started to self harm, because she wanted to feel something other than emotional pain. Even physical pain was better than the anguish that racked her every day, 24/7.

He’s quick to shut that down, to tell her the complete opposite. “No, you don’t. That would mean you’ve lost that innocence you have.”

That actually makes Solana smile, chuckle, but there’s not an ounce of humor as she shakes her head. “I–I lost my innocence a long time ago.” Stolen. It was stolen from her a long time ago is the more appropriate way to word it. Stomach a complete freaking mess, she does her best to power through her anxiety at what she’s about to tell him. “Roman…..I—”

“Ayo, Uce—”

“What!” Roman snaps, Solana jumping back away from him, hypervigilance back on high and alert. He briefly casts his gaze back in her direction, and she can almost swear she sees a speck of guilt. Like he’s apologetic for scaring her. 

Jimmy, however, is unfazed by his cousin’s temper. He’s lived with it his whole life. Ain’t nothing new. “Rhodes men were on Bloodline territory—”

“What?” At that, Roman’s head snaps back in Jimmy’s direction. And Solana watches as any sign of Roman, patient and almost kind, is replaced almost instantly with that same cold, stoic demeanor that could strike fear in the heart of even the strongest man. 

He stands up, hands on his hips as he moves a bit away from her. Solana also stands, fighting her urge to move closer to him. 

Jimmy also presents with a seriousness she’s never seen in him, never even really knew he was capable of, to be honest. “We got three guys down. Another two critically injured.”

Roman curses, turning away, back toward Jimmy and her. He then asks, “you got a location on em’ yet?”

“Pearce should have it any minute now.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Roman nods, stepping away from Solana and in the direction of Jimmy just as Dulce walks over, clearly wanting Solana to pick her up. She must also pick up on the sudden shift in the atmosphere. 

Dulce in her arms, Solana finds herself calling for Roman. “What—”

“Not now.” His dismissal is sharp and sudden. It shouldn’t hurt her feelings, because it’s obvious he’s in an entirely different zone now, but it does. 

Solana sinks back into her shell of silence as Solo steps forward. “You want me—”

“Stay with Solana. She doesn't step foot outside this fucking house, you understand me?” Roman’s orders are indisputable, an almost sense of urgency in his tone. “Heighten security around the premises.”

Solana has so many questions. Just what is going on? Why is Roman so on edge all of a sudden? Who is Rhodes and why do they present such an imminent threat where Roman marches out the house, Jimmy on his heels without even a second glance at her.

It’s all so confusing. 

“You need to get inside.” Solo’s equally stoic reminder, command maybe, pulls her from her thoughts. And Dulce suddenly growling at Solo definitely redirects her focus.

“Shhh. It’s just Solo,” she comforts, petting and trying to calm the puppy who quickly upgrades her growling to barking. This also confuses the mess out of Solana.  

She’s not sure she’s ever seen Dulce both growl and bark at someone.

Wordlessly, she walks in the house, past Solo who she notices makes sure to lock the door behind them. 

“Stay in your room," he instructs, and while she has more questions than anything, his austere tone is more than enough for her to not push back. 

Dulce will just have to use the crate if she has to use the bathroom. 

Without another word, Solo carries Dulce up the stairs and into her room where she lays the puppy in her bed and Solana climbs onto her.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she grabs her phone and opens up the latest group text thread she was messaging in. 

Solana: Can I ask you guys something?

Their replies come in not even five minutes later. 

Bayley: Of course!

Naomi: Anything.

Without allowing herself too much time to overthink it, Solana sends out the simple question.

Solana: Who or what is Rhodes?

Solana: Roman just rushed out of here after Jimmy said something about Rhodes men being on Bloodline territory. I’m not allowed to leave the mansion.

Just like the start of the conversation, the replies come in almost instantaneously. 

Naomi: Fuck.

Naomi: Yes, stay put. Solo’s there with you, right?

Solana: Yes.

Solana’s anxiety is only growing. Naomi sounds just as intense as Jimmy and Roman were. 

Her follow up text doesn’t do anything to help the confusion either.

Naomi: The less you know, the better. The guys will handle it.

Handle what, though? That’s what Solana really wants to know. What is the story here, and why did this Rhodes person or group have Roman so wired. 

Just then, another notification comes through. From Bayley, but in their individual thread and not the group chat. 

Solana switches over, reading her messages as they arrive almost back to back. 

Bayley: Rhodes is a person, but…that’s a complicated story.

Bayley: And I'd feel bad telling someone else’s story, but what I can tell you is that Rhodes is Cody Rhodes, head to the Nightmare Factory, the Bloodline’s biggest opp. Tensions have been at an all time high for like two generations with countless bodies dropped on both sides. It’s always a bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity. 

Solana is regretting even asking anything in the first place. Bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity, the same vicinity Roman is heading for as she types. Her shoulders drop, anxiety starting to shift to a new target. 

Concern for his safety.

Bayley: If you’re somehow ever in a situation where someone from the Nightmare territory is around, get the hell out of dodge. They won’t hesitate to kill you, especially with you being Roman’s wife.

Bayley: Or Rollins. Seth Rollins. Especially him. Guy is fuckin’ psycho.

Solana: Rollins?

Bayley: Roman, Seth, and Cody used to be friends a long time ago, like way long ago, and it just….it went bad. Really really fucking bad, and Cody and Roman have hated each other since. Like, I don’t know if hate is even a strong enough word for how much they can’t stand each other. 

Solana: But why?

Bayley never replies. 

________

Roman doesn’t step back into the house until almost 4am. He feels every bit exhausted as he probably looks, more physical than anything, some mental, maybe more than he’d like to admit.

Dealing with anything Nightmare related typically has that impact on him.

Solo meets him at the door, looking as on alert as he did when Roman first saw him at the ass crack of dawn this morning. 

The first thing to leave Roman’s mouth isn’t intentional as much as it is unintentional. “How was she?”

Solo motions to the marble flooring leading to the spacious living room. “She’s waiting for you.”

Roman wasn’t expecting to hear that, and he’s certain it shows in his facial expression. “What? Why? Why is she still up?”

Solo shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her. She don’t talk to me.” Which is more Solo’s preference anyway. It’s his job to protect her, not be her fucking friend. “Everything good?” Roman nods but doesn’t say anything, still stuck on the fact that Solana is still up. “Imma head out.”

Roman’s response is as distant as his expression. He doesn’t care whether Solo stays or leaves. “Alright.”

Once his enforcer is out the house, Roman sure enough finds Solana sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, notebook in her lap as she writes away.

“Solana.”

She gasps, clearly taken by surprise, but when her head lifts and her eyes land on him, she untangles her legs and moves the journal to the side. Solana walks over to him, keeping a distance that makes sense for her. “You’re back….”

“What are you still doing up? Don’t you have work in a couple hours?”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head, adding sheepishly, “I–I don’t sleep much anyway.” He knows this well. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes widen as she hones in on the nasty looking cut near the middle of his hairline. “You’re hurt….”

It’s really not until she says anything that Roman remembers the only “injury” he received from tonight’s bloodbath. “It’s fine.” He then redirects the focus to the main topic at hand. “Solana, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

She ignores him, actually ignores him and instead reaches up to feel the cut that’s maybe a bit more deeper than he realized because her feather light touch brings a bit of a sting. 

“You need stitches.” It doesn’t sound like a suggestion, and he realizes as such following her next surprising action. She takes his hand and leads him into the kitchen, motioning for him to sit down on the stool as she pulls out the medical kit from under the sink. 

Similar to the night of WarGames, she moves in between his open legs and starts tending to his cut, meticulously and carefully stitching him up.

She says not a word, and neither does he. Truthfully, it’s more an unconscious thing than conscious, like neither knows what or if to say something. Especially considering both are currently feeling more than what they know how to properly verbalize, or verbalize at all, really. 

“There….” Roman can tell when she’s done. She gently runs her fingers over her diligent work, her eyes focused on the source of her apparent concern when all he wants is for her to look at him, for her eyes to lock on him. “I think I’m—” And just as Solana goes to move away, to step back and clean up, she’s stopped. 

She’s stopped, because Roman reaches for her, keeping her near him.

His hand is initially on the small of her back, and Solana has the same experience from earlier. That initial tense feeling that quickly mellows into something almost calm, almost secure. 

She’s not sure she’s ever been this close to him, not since the last time she tended to his injuries, not since their wedding day, since their wedding night.

But unlike that last almost traumatic time, she’s not pummeled with anxiety, not paralyzed with fear. 

It’s just the calm. 

His eyes never leave her, bouncing back and forth between her eyes and lips. He then says in a low voice that’s unlike anything she’s heard from him before. “Solana….”

There’s something different about the way he says her name, something more sincere, something almost….vulnerable. 

Roman suddenly has both hands on her hips, holding her, just as her nervous hand moves to lay her palm against his chest. 

His eyes instantly shut at her touch. Interactions with anything regarding Rhodes have always done something to Roman emotionally, but it’s always been something he can manage relatively well. Something simple and easy. There’s nothing simple and easy about whatever the fuck is coursing through him at having her so close to him, having her touch, soft and unsure as the expression in her eyes. 

She doesn’t know what to make of his eyes closing nor does she have time to consider what to make of that because an image, a flashback of a different kind of touch, a much more painful, visceral touch shoots to the forefront of her mind.

And her chest starts tightening, that fear drawing back up. 

“I–I can’t.” Because as much as some part of her, albeit big or small, likes this, likes being close to him, feels safe being this close to thim, another part, much larger and much stronger, can't handle being this close to him. “I’m sorry.” Eyes watering, she breaks away, Dulce is quickly behind her, Solana reaching to hold the puppy as she dashes up the stairs. 

Roman sits unsure, confused, angry. He stands up, pacing across the floor, hands up and on the side of his head before his fist slams against the refrigerator door. He curses, but not from the blow. That shit doesn’t hurt. 

His reaction and frustration is directed solely toward the fact that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s feeling right now.

The same thing Solana is struggling with as she sits on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest, silently crying into her thighs.

Both of them wondering the same exact thing:

What the hell just happened?

[aheathen-conceivably]

The sounds of the desert kept pulling Antoine back toward them, away from the loud lull of the bar that was pouring out onto the porch beside them. There was one reason he wasn’t giving into their comforting call, and it was standing in front of him waiting for him to speak. When he did it was exactly what she expected him to say, “You know she only hired me because of Jo, right?”

Her response came soft and kind, as though it wasn’t the fifth time she has allayed the same fear since Jo had approached them with the offer. “I know no such thing, because it isn’t true. She hired you because you can play.”

He almost said exactly the same thing as the last time he had voiced this concern. They had been alone in their bedroom, far away from the roar of a bar, which was coincidentally where he would have preferred to be at that very moment. But she wants me to sing, Zelda. I can’t sing. I’ve never sung. But he didn’t have to, because she already knew. “Are you sure you don’t want to sing it?”

Zelda looked down briefly at her feet, hesitant to say no to him at all. She didn’t want him to be afraid, to have to get up in front of a crowd and perhaps be even more vulnerable than he had ever been on the piano. Only she couldn’t. Not again. Her time away from the stage had only convinced her that it had never really happened at all. It had become even more powerful than a dream, because now, it was just a memory. A memory so laced with magnolias and champagne that it could only be revisited through hazy eyes and swaying limbs when you were alone on the edge of sleep or fully immersed in a book. It couldn’t have once been her life. 

But still, she would have said yes for him, taken the stage in some Western bar and swallowed her fears alongside a shot of whiskey for him. But that wasn’t the point. 

“It isn’t my song, Antoine. Or anyone else’s. It’s yours and only yours to play.” Then she brought her hand to his cheek, “Just play. See how it feels, if it comes to you. If you don’t sing it no one but us will know the difference because it will be great either way.”

Zelda settled into her chair once he was already crooked over his own, cigarette dangling from his fingers and hands busied on the lighter he always kept in his pocket. Jo swung around her shoulder, placing three beers in front of her before whispering some barely heard reassurances in her ear. 

Zelda left her eyes on Antoine while she tried to ignore the tense glances between the couple next to her, or those Gio was throwing over Jo's shoulder to the bar beyond. Antoine’s hand returned the lighter to his pocket and then rose to the tabs that decorated the top of the guitar. She waited with bated breath for him to look back up at her, to need her again before his hand left the cigarette and found the strings. 

When he didn’t even glance at her or the crowd before he started playing, she couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed; but then he slipped into a trance where neither she nor anyone else seemed to exist.

The song should have sounded exactly the same as it had the other dozen times she had heard it. In truth, she knew the notes and the words just as well as any of her own performance pieces. But now, even though she recognized every one, they were all different. Like the crowd in front of him had somehow added life to the way his hands moved, even if they were in exactly the same places as every other time he had played it.

She knew that it was because underneath his dented guitar and plain white shirt, he was the same jazz musician he had been in the club ten years before. Only now he was on an instrument that added more honesty and rawness to the notes he had composed, even as his skill and improvisation stayed the same. For a moment Zelda forgot to be upset that he seemed to have forgotten her, because it was like watching a transformation through time. He was the same, only somehow, even better than he had ever played before.

The crowd magnetized on him without even a single word sung, and the consistent playing of the notes and the heavy cloud of cigarette smoke hung over the bar like electricity.

Gio turned to Jo, raising an impressed eyebrow as she smiled back at him with pride, forgetting to lace it with superiority or malice for the first time in months. Zelda caught the look between them and didn’t even have time to feel guilty like she usually did when she saw Jo now, because a moment later the words she hadn't really expected began to float down to them from the stage. With them, Jo’s face transformed from simple pride into something much more intimate, like an overwhelming emotion that she had been trying to forget.

As the song went on it was like all three of them were back there in the House of the Rising Sun together, just like they had once been when they were twenty-something and without the weight of worries they wore now. Not an ounce of the betrayal or open wounds still simmering between them were left for those few minutes. Only memories of over a decade together, of shared joy and pain that bound them together like nothing else could. 

On stage, Antoine remained oblivious to them. His eyes were closed and not a trace of his fear from outside remained, because he may as well have been back at the piano he had left behind. They didn't exist, because part of him was back home…🎶

[wongyuseokie]

Stitches | l.sm

Summary: Seokmin is nothing if not the perfect boyfriend, so he decided to manscape a little to spice things up. Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying enough attention, and he’s been stitched up for a week. He’s determined not to let you in on why he’s rejecting your advances, but all it’s doing is making you think he’s not interested. Seokmin sees that you’re upset, but he just doesn’t know how to tell his girlfriend that he accidentally cut his penis and now has stitches in it. 

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ implied smut |  ☁︎ mild angst | ♥ completed works 

Word Count: 1486 words 

Pairings: Lee Seokmin x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: fluff, mild angst (but it's me so idk how long it’ll stay mild), new relationship au!

Content Warnings: mentions of razors, stitches and blood (nothing graphic). Mentions of food.  

Smut Warnings: none, but just implied smut

Authors Note 1: thank you to my lovely seoksluts @the-boy-meets-evil @wooahaeproductions @highvern and @kwanisms for encouraging this <3  Taglist: @aaniag and @dkluvrsclub and @thegirlwhoimagined @ressonancee and @tomodachiii @bitchlessdino @onlyseokmins @gyuminusone because why not <3

“So, you’re telling me you have a cut on your dick?” Mingyu repeated as he wiped away the tears from his eyes. He had been laughing at Seokmin ever since he confided in Mingyu. 

“Shut up, I was right. I should have gone to Jeonghan hyung,” Seokmin whined, and Mingyu laughed more at his comment. 

“No, he’d probably upload your bleeding penis to the group chat,” Mingyu teased, making Seokmin throw a towel at Mingyu’s head. 

“Can you help?” Seokmin pleaded. 

“I think that Y/N would prefer to help you when it concerns your penis,” Mingyu joked, making Seokmin reach for the hairbrush on the bathroom counter to throw at Mingyu’s head. 

“Okay, calm down. I’ll take you to the doctor, and after that, we’re going to discuss why you think throwing things in an argument is a solution,” Mingyu offered, earning a glare from Seokmin. 

“Stop whining, it could be worse. You could, I don’t know, have severed your entire dick off. All you did was let a tiny little cut, which after a week will be fine,” Mingyu scolded as Seokmin went on his third meltdown of the day. 

“What do I tell Y/N?” Seokmin wailed; he had been a mess after the doctor told him that he’d stitch up his cut, but he’d have to abstain from any activities that would exacerbate his cut–which included sex. 

“Just tell her the truth?” Mingyu offered, confused, wondering why Seokmin couldn’t be honest with you, his girlfriend. 

“No, she’s going to think I’m an idiot,” Seokmin mumbled. 

“I think she already thinks that, ow!” Mingyu yelped as Seokmin smacked his head. 

“Dude, it’s not that serious. Tell her you wanted to make your penis pretty and accidentally sliced a bit of it,” Mingyu suggested earning a glare from Seokmin. 

“Or you could say that you wanted to attempt an “at-home” circumcision,��� Mingyu joked, his suggestion earning another smack from Seokmin. 

“No, I know what I’ll do. I’ll ignore her advances; it’s just for a week, and I’ll make it up with the best sex ever,” Seokmin said determinedly.

“Okay, first ew, second, don’t because you’ll ignore her, and she’ll think something’s wrong with her,” Mingyu warned. 

“No, she won’t. She knows I think she’s perfect,” Seokmin argued. 

“Okay, genius, you do what you think is best. Just try not to slice up your dick again. Besides, you could go to a salon, and they’ll manscape you nicely,” Mingyu teased, making Seokmin whine again and lie back down on the hospital bed. 

“Baby! You’re home!” You exclaimed, running to greet your boyfriend, who held out a hand, stopping you from hugging him. 

“Sorry, I'm sore. I fell during practice,” Seokmin lied, hoping you didn’t catch his tone. He was a terrible liar. 

“Oh baby, should I get you something? Ice? Or maybe I can draw you up a warm bath to soothe your muscles?” You offered, and Seokmin shook his head furiously. 

“No!” Seokmin yelped, confusing you. 

“I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry,” Seokmin said, calmer, and you just shrugged. 

“Well, I hope you’re not too sore for me to kiss you,” you asked, hopeful. 

“Uh, no, I’m not,” Seokmin grinned. 

You walked towards your boyfriend, and you were about to kiss him when he moved his face away. Your lips landed on his cheek. 

“Seok?” 

“You wanted a kiss, right?” Seokmin asked, grinning, and hoped you wouldn’t question him further. 

“Yeah. I guess,” you mumbled. 

“I’ll go change, and we can cuddle and watch a movie?” Seokmin offered, making you smile. That sounded more like your boyfriend. 

“Sounds good.” 

You both weren’t cuddling as you watched the movie. Seokmin had his hand on your thigh but still kept at least a couple of inches of space between you. You were confused, but you did want to cuddle him, so you reached out your arm. Before you could place it on Seokmin’s thigh, he inched away from you, yelping. 

“What the hell?” You asked. 

“Why are you touching me?” Seokmin asked, exasperated, hating how the words sounded and hating how your face fell after hearing his words. 

“I just wanted to get a bit closer to you,” you mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Well, I’m not always in the mood,” Seokmin said defensively. 

“Well, you’re the one who suggested a movie and cuddles?” You argued. 

“That doesn’t mean we need to be stuck together like glue; sometimes I don’t want you cuddling me,” Seokmin spoke quickly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even think. 

“Oh,” you said quietly, looking at your hands. 

“Baby, that's not what I meant,” Seokmin said, trying to backtrack. You looked up at him, shaking your head. 

“No, it’s fine, um. I have some work to finish, so uh, I’ll catch you in a bit?” You said as you got up from the couch and walked off to the bedroom, not giving Seokmin a chance to speak and stop you. 

Later that night, you decided you’d get ready for bed without Seokmin, even though you two liked doing your night routine together. You figured he needed space, so you gave him just that. 

“Baby?” Seokmin called out, and you pretended to be asleep. You felt the bed dip as he lay down next to you. 

“I’m sorry,” Seokmin mumbled as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You placed your hand over his. 

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, turning to face him. This made Seokmin gasp and inch away. 

“What the hell, Seok?” You asked, now annoyed. 

“Baby, it’s just that I need to keep my distance from you right now,” Seokmin admitted, and you glared at him. 

“Fine, keep your distance,” you huffed, grabbing your pillow and heading to the door. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Seokmin asked. 

“The guest room. I don’t know what is wrong with you right now, but you’re not making me feel very wanted, and since you want space, I’ll give you space,” you ranted, walking out of the bedroom and slamming the door behind you. 

Seokmin knew better than to follow you, but he knew he needed to fix this. He grabbed his phone and started texting Mingyu. 

The following morning, you decided to ignore Seokmin until he told you why he was behaving so funny, and while it was incredibly petty of you to do so, you were hurt. 

You emerged from the guest room after you took a shower, and the only thing you could find to wear was one of Seokmin’s shirts since you were determined not to go into your bedroom. You pouted, put his shirt on, stepped outside and made your way to the kitchen. 

“Baby!” Seokmin greeted, and you saw a lavish breakfast spread on the kitchen island. 

“What’s all this?” You asked, gesturing to the food. 

“This is my attempt at apologising for my atrocious behaviour last night,” Seokmin mumbled, looking like a sad puppy. You let out a giggle, sat on one of the high chairs next to the island, and took a strawberry and bit into it. 

“Why are you laughing?” Seokmin asked. 

“I wouldn’t call your behaviour ‘atrocious’ just odd,” you said with a grin and patted the seat next to you. 

“So why were you so skittish?” 

“Don’t laugh, okay?” Seokmin pleaded, and you nodded, allowing him to continue. 

“I wanted to, uh, I guess, groom myself a bit. I think the term is manscaping, and I got distracted and accidentally nicked my penis, and I had to get stitches, and I can’t do anything for a week,” Seokmin explained quickly, and you pressed your lips together to try and not laugh. 

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t laugh,” Seokmin whined, and you giggled and placed your arms around his neck. 

“Oh, my sweet baby, why did you think you needed trimming?” You asked, placing a kiss on his cheek and making him smile. 

“I don’t know to make my penis more appealing.” 

You let out a laugh pulled away, and placed your hands on Seokmin’s pouty face. 

“Baby, I think you have the prettiest dick in the entire world. I’ll yell it from the rooftops if I need to,” you comforted him, making him smile at you. 

“You’d yell it?” Seokmin asked. 

“Yes, baby, I understand, and I respect that. You can always be honest with me. I’ll never judge that,” you explained further, and Seokmin pouted as he nodded. 

“I’m sorry about last night,” Seokmin apologised. 

“It’s okay. Can you at least give me a proper kiss?” You asked, and Seokmin nodded. He leaned forward and captured your lips in the softest kiss ever. 

“Mm, 100 more of those today, and you’re forgiven,” you offered. 

“Done!” 

“Uh, babe, what would you yell about my dick?” Seokmin asked as he walked away to fix you a plate. 

“Oh, simple, I'd say that Seokmin has a very nice DK.” 

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea Right? - Part 9

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

What are friends for if not for meddling? A certain daughter of spring and her heir apparent lover scheme to bring a stubborn Shadowsinger and her Autumn High Lord mate back together.

A/n: remember when I said this would be the final part? I was wrong. Sorry! Don’t hate me. There will be at least one more chapter and an epilogue.

Part 8 Series Masterlist Part 10

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, alcohol

In hindsight, perhaps I was a bit dramatic. But in my defense, what the fuck??

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is my mate?

And he’s known since the moment he met me?

I am a fool, truly. There’s no other explanation. Perhaps I may not be as perceptive as my father or nosey little sister but I’m pretty damned adept in reading a room.

Yet I’d been fucking my mate for two years with zero clue. No wonder my damned shadows enjoy playing with him so much. But to be fair, who wouldn’t? I mean look at him. The muscles, graceful stature, those auburn locks of hair, that arrogant smirk that I want nothing more than to kiss right off his stupid, gorgeous face.

And in the face of the truth, I fled. Like a coward.

“Sissy?” Azalea’s concerned voice interrupts my spiral of self-loathing.

Her little hand squeezes mine. “Ice cream makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

“That sounds wonderful, Azzie.”

With that, my mother gave a soft smile and strode to the kitchen to retrieve my favorite strawberry flavor from the ice box.

I looked down to my sister to find her brows drawn together and lips pursed, wings sagging just a bit. “What’s going on, Azalea?”

“I told Eris that what he did was bad but sissy, I don’t think he’s bad. But you were so sad.”

Oh.

“Oh Azalea, I’m sorry. I appreciate you and your loyalty. I’m lucky to have such a kind little sister and you know what? I bet Eris would prefer for you to stick up for me instead of ignoring my feelings. Because you’re right, he is not bad. He’s not a bad male at all.”

“Then why are you so sad?” question shone in her eyes as she waited for a response.

“I’m upset because I believed that he liked me for me - but now that I know he knew I was his mate from the moment we met, it makes me feel like he only likes me because of a bond that neither of us have control over.”

The winged little girl pondered before replying, “He can still love you for who you are even with a bond. I didn’t have control over being your sister, but I like you a lot. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my sister.”

Her words stopped me in my tracks. Since when was my little sister so wise beyond her years? Yet still - it stings. It stings for there to have been so many secrets and perhaps he had good reason to hide it. Hell, maybe he didn’t even want me beyond the most base level of a mating bond. The sex was incredible. Yet, he was the one who took me on a date tonight. Still came around despite my father’s ominous presence. An ugly voice inside of me whispered that it was all to gain a political foothold, yet the more rational side of me could feel that it wasn’t truth.

A bang on the door interrupted my thoughts.

Azzie’s wings rustle, little legs bounding across the room in search of the unexpected intrusion, her hazel eyes peering out the foyer window. My heart fluttered briefly - could it be him? What would I say?

The racing sensation in my chest faltered as my shadows briefed me of the visitor’s identity.

“Azzie, can you go ask mom to scoop an extra bowl of ice cream?”

She didn’t miss a beat as her little feet took off into the kitchen where she animatedly informed our mother of the visitor at our doorstep.

Another knock and a shout of “Open up the door, bitch! I know you’re in there.” had me letting out a flustered breath and scurrying to allow the nuisance entry into my home, greeting her with “How do you even know where I live?”

“Well,” Layla let out an exasperated sigh, taking a step into the fae-light illuminated foyer. “For one, it’s nice to see you again too. Second, Daemati boyfriend, remember?” Pointing a finger to her head with an incredulous expression, she continued. “Third, you didn’t see me fleeing when my tits were out in front of your entire family. THANKS for that.”

Shame flooded my features but she cut off any attempt at an apology for leaving her in the uncomfortable predicament with Nyx. “Eh, I like to think of myself as a bit of an exhibitionist. I just never imagined my first foray into such endeavors would involve the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. ANYWAY-“ the blonde gave me a pointed look, summoning two bottles of wine from a pocket realm. “I brought vino for our troubles.”

Twenty minutes later and we’d all soothed our wounds with ice cream and Azalea peppering Layla with questions about anything and everything she could think of.

I could have fallen through the floor when she gleefully informed Layla that she did indeed try to stop us before barging in upon her and Nyx’s more private affairs. Layla only laughed and flashed me a vulgar gesture when Azalea wasn’t looking.

Azalea eventually dozed off somewhere between Layla and I’s second and third bottle of wine when she jumped up with a shriek. “Oh my gods! What’s the name of that bar you lot love so much? Rose���s?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Rita’s?”

“Yes! That’s the one. Let’s go! Girls night out.”

“Layla, why don’t we go somewhere the Inner Circle doesn’t frequent? Somewhere a bit more youthful?”

With a dismissive wave she shush’d me. “No way. Let’s be tourists. Wouldn’t anyone visiting want to go to THE spot that the Court’s upper echelon frequent? Let’s go dazzle the citizens of Velaris with our sexy moves. I’ll let you grind against me if you’re good.”

I laughed at my friend’s peculiar method of cheering me up but honestly, a night out to let loose before facing the rocky road ahead sounded like just what I needed.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

———

Rita’s was more packed than usual as an attendant led Layla and I back to the Inner Circle’s standard table, we snaked through the crowded floor, brushing shoulders with the ocasional dancing patron when I overheard a voice muttering about the “sexy High Lord” she’d bumped into at the bar.

I reached to grab Layla’s attention but it was too late as I looked up to find her cozied up to Nyx with my uncles, my father, and my- “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Looking past my friend with her shit-eating grin, I see the gorgeous face of my mate.

————————

Eris

He stood dejected in the basement of the gallery, trying to process what had just gone down.

Never did he imagine this was how the night would turn out. Under normal circumstances, he would be traveling back to his court to look into the father of the Day Court female who’d tried holding him hostage but Helion would look further into it and send word. He was not in a place to fairly handle such a situation given that the thought of them laying a hand on his mate made him burn with rage.

So he stood there, taking steadying breaths about to leave when a low whistle rang out behind him and a large hand clapped his back. “Ouch. Not the ideal way to reveal a mating bond.”

Eris scoffed, readying an unbecoming retort when Cassian continued, “Been there. It’s not easy but you two will work it out. Beer helps. Care to grab a drink at Rita’s while Nyx and Rhys work their shit out? Probably not the best for you and Azriel to be alone together at the moment anyway.”

To his credit- Azriel only let out a semi-annoyed huff and rolled his eyes.

What the fuck was this evening becoming? Mating bond unveiled and now getting drinks with a male who had every right to loathe him.

But Eris didn’t have it in him to deny the offer. So with that, he found himself at Rita’s with the Night Court general.

“I’m just saying that these Archerons, they’re lovely and great but… they’re headstrong.” He put two palms up in the air. “Now before you jump to conclusions, it’s not a BAD thing. The gods know Nesta has handed my ass to me when I’ve needed it many times over the years but sometimes…. Sometimes you’ve just got to give them time to come around.”

Eris could have reminded Cassian that most females would need time to come around to such a reveal but… the male was making an effort and Eris had nobody else to talk to about such a situation.

He supposed he could have tracked down Lucien but the matter felt a bit too sensitive to address at the moment given the rejected bond between he and Elain and the very obvious fact that Eris’ mate was the result of that rejected bond.

“Hey- I’m here making an effort. At least try to appear like you’re not tuning me out.” Cassian waved a hand before him.

“Apologies.” Eris smirked, refusing to let the male see him too down and out. “Just processing everything.”

“Well, finish the rest of this beer and we can order some of that autumnal shit you all prefer in your court for the next round. Unless you’re too prissy and have some fancy shit you High Lord’s prefer.”

Eris recognized the bait for what it was, given that he knew Cassian would be the first to indulge in Rhysand’s top shelf liquors.

Eris lifted the foaming mug to his mouth and downed the entire beer before placing it back down on the counter. “Another Illyrian draft is just fine.”

The large male beside him let out a hum that almost seemed like approval. “Maybe you’re not such a cunt after all, High Lord.”

“Yeah, well keep that between us.”

Cassian held up two fingers as the bar keep gave him a nod and Cassian pointed to a table in the corner.

No sooner than they’d seated themselves did Rhysand and Nyx enter the establishment, a hesitant Azriel behind them.

“Sorry.” Cassian shrugged. “Rhys sent word a couple minutes ago. Figured we could all use a round after this evening.”

Rhys looking a bit disheveled in comparison to that usual air of arrogance he exuded, giving a cocky grin as eyes within the establishment fell upon him. His son on the other hand still appeared a bit out of sorts given the inconvenient revelation of he and the daughter of Spring to his entire family.

The Shadowsinger only gave a curt nod in greeting, expression remaining stony.

Through a boisterous laugh the general teased, “Welcome to the shit show.”

The tension at the table was palpable, Azriel glaring daggers through Eris, Nyx very clearly communicating mind to mind with someone, Rhys slowly losing his resolve in maintaining his collected facade. Cassian, ever the instigator, broke the silence. “So, mates, huh?”

Azriel’s cold gaze averted from the Autumn High Lord to the General, promising violence. “Hey-“ Cassian raised his palms again. “It’s not so bad. She could have been mated to Tamlin.”

Had it not been for the mating bond chafing his ass, Eris could have laughed but he only bristled at the thought of his mate with any other male.

“Ouch!” Cassian yelped as the violet-eyed High Lord kicked him under the table.

“Oh come on! None of us handled our mating bonds perfectly, and I know damn well that any of you would be enjoying this mess if roles were reversed. You’re just pissy, I remember very clearly the shit you gave me when this fucker,”pointing a calloused finger to Eris with a cheeky grin, “proposed to Nesta!”

Eris really wanted to fall through the floor at this point. “But she was my mate, and look at us now? Remember those days at the dining table, Az?”

Shadows whirled violently around the Spymaster. “You’re not obligated to speak every little thought that pops into your mind.”

Though it was clear the Shadowsinger was deathly serious, Cassian only waived him off and Nyx burst out laughing, egging his Uncle on.

“Mating bonds aren’t everything.” Azriel growled out, “You’re not entitled to her. She’s her own person and can choose what her heart wants.”

Eris raised an eyebrow at the implication. He was well aware that he played the bastard role well but he would never-

“Are you implying, Shadowsinger, that I would not let your precious daughter choose? And believe me, I’m well aware of the atrocities and the merits that can come from a rejected mating bind. I remember the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon my brother when his own bond was rejected, the uncontrollable waves of grief that still sometimes roll through him.” Azriel sat, stone faced at the reminder that his wife was not his mate. Eris didn’t give him time to react, continuing.

“But I’m also well aware that if not for that pain and that rejected bond, I would be without my beloved nephew, or my curious new friend who thinks of even the smallest of denizens of your court matter - who treats me like I’m just a person and not the arrogant prick the rest of the world views me as.”

Eris placed a broad palm to his own chest, clutching as if in physical pain as the next words left his lips. “And do you not think, Shadowsinger, that I don’t recognize the fucking treasure that came from that rejected bond? The irony that my brother’s rejected bond resulted in the greatest gift of my life? And while I’d love to covet that treasure, care for her, let her shine for all of those to see - to know that she’s mine - it’s not my choice. It’s hers. If she wants to shine with someone else? Gods, it will hurt like hel, but I’ll remember her with nothing but love in my heart. She wants to stay on her own, making her own way in the world? I’ll stand back and cheer for her. I think you’re well aware that NOBODY chooses for your daughter but her.”

Azriel remained stone faced, a hand resting to the handle of the foaming mug of mead before him. Cassian let out a huff. Nyx smirked and Rhysand only looked at Eris with something that almost appeared to be respect.

Azriel finally shook his head, raising the mug in Eris’ direction. “Then that’s all I can ask for.”

All eyes at the table darted to him in shock. The famed, merciless spymaster standing down.

Eris only lifted his own mug in return and that was that.

The next hour went by as smoothly as possible, the table ordering several rounds of drinks. Eris nearly pissed himself when the shock of a caress against his mental shields caught his attention, Nyxs’ amused voice only stating, “You can thank me later.”

Eris’ brows drew together, puzzled by what on earth he’d have to thank the heir for, as a blonde female fell into the seat beside the male. A familiar scent wafting into his nostrils.

His mate.

Gods, she looked fucking fantastic and Eris knew right away he’d have to glamour the involuntary scent of arousal wafting from him at the sight of her ethereal face, those fucking hips that he wanted to hug as tightly as that little dress did - his inhibited state not helping the situation whatsoever. She only glared at him, as she stood beside the table, sweet voice dripping with irritation,

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. Gods, she was trying to kill him. Her arms pushing up her immaculate breasts. Was he salivating? This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare if her father caught wind of just how the sight of her was affecting him.

But most of all, he only felt love and adoration as he stared at the prickly female glaring daggers through him. Truth-Teller would certainly feel less violent against his skin than the sharp gaze piercing into his heart.

“I didn’t know, I swear.” Eris pleaded.

“Right. I’m leaving.” She huffed.

“Oh no you fucking don’t” the blonde female interjected. “You’re not just going to ice him out. It’ll hurt you worse than any words ever could. You two need to TALK.”

Nyx looked to the female with pride.

“I’m not finished with YOU.” Y/N hissed with rage to her friend.

“Oh I have no doubt.” The female - Layla - fired back. “But first you’re going to work things out with your mate.”

With an irritated look to her friend, she grabbed Eris by the wrist with a reluctant “Come on, we’re LEAVING.”

Eris threw a grateful look to Nyx and Layla, standing with no resistance to the grasp his mate had on his wrist. Azriel grunted and began to stand, but Rhys threw an arm out, keeping him seated. And to Eris’ surprise, the Shadowsinger remained.

Cool air and the aroma of spices from the surrounding establishments greeted the pair, an otherwise perfect evening to drape his arm over her shoulder and whisper sweet nothings into her pointed ear as they passed the shops, but she only tapped her foot with impatience. “Well?? Winnow me to your apartment and let’s get this over with.”

Eris stepped forward, caressing her wrist in a lovers grasp, sensuous smirk forming on his lips. Fire in his blood or no, chill bumps rose up her olive skin, nipples pebbling beneath her dress.

“As you wish.” And winnowed her straight to the foot of his bed. He’d let her lead from there but if there was one thing he knew about his mate, she firmly believed all was fair in fucking and fighting. It was all in her hands how the night would go.

————————————————

A/n: Thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter! Life has been hectic (seasonal illnesses, end of the fiscal quarter, traveling sports, mental health struggles, etc) and my brain was just not cooperating with this chapter. After writing a few one shots I was able to get back into the proper headspace but found I was still struggling to transfer this chapter from my brain into print. I eventually realized I wasn’t ready for the story to end quite yet so with that being said this is NOT the final chapter. I hope you all don’t hate me for saying it was before changing my mind but it’s important to give the story the satisfying ending that it deserves. 🥰

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria

Eris general: @angiedsv

Series tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe @acourtof-wingspan @paleidiot @anae-naea-zacheria @fandomarchiveilyd @bloodicka @12358

[thousandyearphantombunker]

The Owl House Critical Post, scroll away now I don't know if I am being too harsh in this post but I wrote it anyway so if you don't wanna read something potentially upsetting this is a warning (to those who decide to read please tell me if I'm being too harsh)

I remember initially hating how the show handled its villains, they all felt like jokes, they never felt like threats or like they provided a meaningful challenges for the main cast, they never had any real depth or complexity. but i bit my tongue, I was told that I was basically a dumbass for complaining that Bump openly breaks a law that's supposed to be punishable by death so that Luz could fulfill her witchy fantasy and that he wasn't arrested. the show could've had him make the multiclass student thing be something underground- boom it lets luz live out her fantasy but doesn't ignore what was established about the setting and creates potential stakes if these underground classes ever got discovered! That already made me angry but the cult thing is what I wanted to complain about- i only had basic ass knowledge about cults and TOH fails at portraying that crap, most people in the EC can just quit and do so in a way that makes it feel like they're just quitting a job, it doesn't feel like they fear losing their friends or sense belonging and community, they don't feel like they're anything but jokes. Leaving a cult is scary, often times cults will send their followers into the real world and set them up to have bad experiences so they'll come running back, they'll hire thugs to scare them into staying or position them in away so that they suffer (sending them out without money or the skills to survive), they humiliate those who begin to ask questions so that they stay in line. guilt tripping, putting members against each other, cutting off contact with the rest of the world! The show only adds the whole 'forced to fight on a mountain' thing for flavor! Everytime it brings up actual stuff cults do it feels like it's more for flavor than actually writing this topic with sensitivity- look at how they treat Lilith! Imo It feels like the show insulting people for ever trusting belos, treating them like they're braindead and could've just realized fairly easily that he was evil. It's the most egregious with hunter who was basically fucking born into the EC. the show is also pretty black and white, which is curious for a show that gets praise for its portrayal of religious trauma. You think the show would be more grey. I did deeper research into cults and just got SO tired of people talking about how good the show was at conveying such a heavy topic. The titan reveal also doesn't help- Luz is told by an all powerful deity that she is the chosen one basically and is told that old man is evil and needs to go down- isn't that the same justification that belos uses for his actions- not saying belos should've gotten redemption or forgiveness but this feels wrong. He deserved to die don't get me wrong but using this justification feels gross. What's even worse is that the titan made Philip's life harder on purpose- ah yeah that brainwashed cult victim would totally change his mind especially if you make his life harder- yeah I would've preferred if belos was depicted in a flashback just having a bad time on the boiling isles and cherry picked those bad experiences to justify his actions. Also I hate that the show just writes belos off as greedy and glory seeking when it could've conveyed a message about how people can get absolutely get warped by religious dogma. I do wonder though if I'm being too harsh because TOH is for kids and I was told it would be hard to portray this stuff in a way kids could understand. I can come up with ways to make the breaking the law openly thing less egregious but I am struggling to think of ways the show could have handled the cult thing, I am aware that maybe I'm accidentally saying stuff that is kind of bad faith but this is my truth. I feel like TOH wasn't good at villains and it sure as hell didn't write cults well

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family 8

Chapter 8: Custody Visitation

The kids have a cousin, now.

Rex brings the twins to Anakin, and makes Mereel and Jango wait on the couch while they get the babies to stop squalling. They are upset, screaming, and red in the face. Rex doesn’t care what the Mandalorians want. The kids come first.

He hands Anakin a blanket to cover up while feeding. Anakin rarely minds people seeing him nurse the twins, but something in Rex hates the idea of Mereel and Jango seeing it.

“So,” Rex says. He keeps his eyes on Mereel, and doesn’t look at Jango. Shmi is pressed into Rex’s side and trembling. “What brings you here?”

“I think you know,” Mereel says. “You look rather a lot like—”

“Let me rephrase,” Rex interrupts, because he has no mind for being polite right now, “how did you know where we were, or that we even exist?”

Jango is fidgeting, but Rex can’t see details from his peripherals.

Mereel is stupidly calm, and Rex is jealous. “We heard rumors of someone wandering around in armor that had blue, black, and grey in enough of a quantity that we had someone come by to find out if there was Kyr’tsad in the area, see if maybe we’d stumbled across a new base. They found out you were here, heard you had kids and no interest in bounties or getting involved in any kind of politics or law, and then saw your face and realized… well. You look a lot like Jango’s father. We thought maybe an uncle, or something. Jango says he doesn’t know enough about his grandfather to know if there was any chance of his father having siblings he’s never met.”

It's the sensible assumption. Wrong, but the truth isn’t going to be anyone’s first thought.

“I don’t want to get pulled into your war with Death Watch,” Rex says. “I’m not putting my kids at risk for you.”

“You’re Mandalorian!” Jango bursts out. “So that means—”

“I’m not,” Rex says. He waits for a second to see if either of the people across from him will object, but they don’t. Jango is frozen, and Mereel is… patient.  Rex doesn’t like him. “My biological parent was a Mandalorian, but he never gave me or my brothers the grace of acknowledging us as his children, and the training we received may have been Mandalorian in culture, but we only got to learn the fighting and some of the language, but never to fluency, and never anything that wasn’t useful in battle. Even my armor is plastoid.”

“Brothers?” Mereel prompts.

“All dead,” Rex says. He ignores the wounded sound from Jango, like a little bubble of hope just got dashed.

Mereel makes a low hum of a noise, and says, “there are ways to become Mandalorian.”

“I’m not swearing the Resol’nare,” Rex carefully does not snap. “I am not swearing myself to you. Like I said, my own kids come first.”

The hand on Jango’s shoulder may well be the only thing keeping him from jumping up to pick a fight. Mereel is still so damnably calm. “I understand. That said, can we discuss some possibilities for having you in Jango’s life, as the only remaining blood relative?”

Rex purses his lips, and looks to Anakin. The twins, he thinks, are finished, and Shmi doesn’t feel as tense or scared as she did earlier.

“I’d prefer to have this conversation without the kids in the room,” Rex decides. Anakin twitches next to him. “Shmi, do you mind taking the twins to your room? If you’re okay with it, Jango could go with you and… I don’t know. Help you with one of your books? He’s a bit older than you, so he should know how to read.”

Jango looks offended. “I learned how to read years ago!”

I don’t care, Rex thinks. “Then you should be able to help her, yeah?”

Shmi leans away from Rex’s side to look at him, and then Anakin, and then back to Rex. There’s something calculating in her eye, but she nods. “Okay.”

She gets up, and grabs the hoverpram, and Anakin… well, he puts the babies down, which is more than Rex expected of him, honestly. He kind of expected a fight.

The kids leave. Anakin stays tense, and far away, and Rex listens for the closing of the door.

“So,” Mereel starts.

(Continue on AO3)

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Second Chance - Chapter 3

Masterlist 

Warning: mention of blip, death, life support, jealousy, panic attack 

Word Count: 3.9 k

So the problem with taking a long nap, it was hard to fall asleep. It also didn’t help that your stomach was a little upset from dinner. FRIDAY informed you that the common floor had ginger ale and crackers. You sat on the couch with your sketchbook on your lap and crackers next to you. You preferred drawing comics or line art, realism wasn’t your thing. But drawing portraits of people helped you remember them and the memories. You were drawing your mom when she was in the courtroom. It was rare that she let you come with her and watch her do her thing. She was afraid that you were going to be a target if people connected you to her. 

You missed her so much and you wished she was here to help you through this. When the doctors came into her room at the hospital and told you your options, it was the hardest decision you had to make. But you knew your mom better than anyone, she was your best friend, and you knew she wouldn’t want to be in a vegetative state. So, she was taken off life support and her organs were donated to help save lives. You whipped a tear from your eye before it fell onto your sketchbook. “Why are you crying in the dark?” A voice laced with a Russian accent asked. You jumped, not expecting a voice. In front of you was a blonde-haired girl wearing sweatpants and a SHIELD training shirt. She was fresh out of a shower; her hair was damp and braided. 

“Maybe because I don’t like crying when it’s bright outside,” she shrugged and made her way to the kitchen. You spun around to lean on the back of the couch. The blonde was taking out the leftovers from dinner. “Who are you?” If you were to make an educated guess, she was related to Natasha in some way. 

“Your Stark’s kid,” she deflected your question with a statement of her own. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have more of you running around.” 

“Probably does,” you said. “I wouldn’t put it past dear old dad,” she placed her food in the microwave and turned to face you, arms crossed against her chest. Her green eyes flickered to the beanie you still chose to wear. “I find it unfair you know who I am and I don’t know you.” She smirked and turned to take her food out of the microwave. 

“Where is the fun in that, Stark?”

“Easton,” you corrected her. She raised a questioning eyebrow at you. “I go by my mother’s maiden name since she is the one who raised me and Tony didn’t.” Your mom never spoke ill of the man when you questioned why he was never around. Instead, she told you the truth that she never told him she was pregnant. You stopped asking questions because you didn’t need him. Your mom was all you needed. 

“Well, Easton,” she smiled. “It was nice meeting you. Try to get some sleep.” She walked back over to the elevator and stepped inside. 

“Sleep tight, blondie,” you sat back down on the couch and focused on your drawing. But you didn’t miss the look of surprise on her face as the metal doors closed. You chuckled, popping a cracker into your mouth. You weren’t worried about the mysterious blonde that got food quickly and left. You figured she was supposed to be here since Tony’s AI didn’t alert anyone or alarms didn’t go off. Now you weren’t an Avengers super fan but you knew of them through the news and research for your comics but you didn’t recognize her. She must be a new addition post the Blip. You sighed, biting the end of the pencil. 

You weren’t part of the half of the population that was taken. There was a part of you that wished you were. The car accident happened a few months before the Blip. So you grieved your mom and those you lost. It was hard. You threw yourself into your drawings, and your research, and traveled the world to help others to ignore your grief. It worked. Was it unhealthy? Yes. But you helped a lot of people, wasn’t that worth it? 

You cleaned up the crackers and cleaned the glass you used. There was an ache in your bones and you knew it was time for bed. 

*

You were back on the common floor in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and waiting for your oatmeal to be done. You thanked every god that existed that your taste buds still liked coffee. The microwave beeped and you took it out. As you ate it you made a list of things you needed to do before the weekend was over and your doctor appointment tomorrow morning. Your new room was fully furnished even with kitchen appliances so you could donate your furniture except the desk and bean bag in your office. You could put the desk you had in your bedroom or near the window in the living room. The hall closet would be before seasonal clothes, extra supplies, and a few things you kept that were your mom’s. You had a lot of stuff which meant you needed to go through everything and donate the stuff you didn’t need. But you weren’t sure how long you would be at the tower? Was it a permanent placement? Or until you got better, if you got better. You didn’t like to think about that. “How did you sleep?” Natasha asked, walking up to the coffee pot and pouring herself some. 

“Okay,” you took a bite of your oatmeal. “I think that nap messed up my sleeping schedule.” You giggled. You couldn’t help but stare at the redhead in front of you, trying to compare features from the blonde you met last night. They had similar eye color and teasing look in their eyes. They even smirked the same.      

“You're starring,” Natasha smirked. “I’m sorry but I’m spoken for and I don’t think Tony would like that.” You looked away from her so she didn’t see your embarrassment but a playful smile danced on your lips. 

“Sorry, I guess I’m more tired than I thought,” you looked back at the Black Widow. “Or you're just that mesmerizing to look at.” Natasha groaned, gently slapping you on the shoulder. 

“You flirt better than your father, I'll give you that,” you giggled. “Well I was thinking if you weren’t that tired,” she leaned against the counter. “We could borrow a few of Stark’s cars and go to your apartment to get your things. I can bribe Bucky, Steve, and my sister to help.” Sister? Interesting. But you didn’t dwell too much on that. 

“Why are you offering to help?” You asked with a tilt of your head. 

“This can’t be easy,” she stated. “With your diagnosis, reaching out to your biological father, and moving into a new place with new people,” you smiled. It was not easy. “But I bet having stuff you're familiar with can make it easier.” She was right. The bed was comfortable but you missed your mom’s guilt. The walls were bare, missing your photos and artwork. 

“Thank you, Natasha.” 

“Don’t mention it. I’ll go round up the delinquents. Do you need clothes to wear?” You looked down at your sleeping clothes. You could change into the clothes you were wearing yesterday but they were dirty. 

“Uh yeah,” you scratched the back of your head. “I wasn’t expecting him to offer me a place at the tower.” It was common practice for you to take an overnight bag when you went somewhere due to your random spots of fatigue. You expected to be back at your apartment by lunch night. Natasha frowned. 

“Did you not expect Tony to help you?” The Black Widow asked. You shrugged. 

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” you told her. The frown remained on Natasha’s face. 

“Wanda will have something for you to wear. FRIDAY, can you inform Wanda to meet Y/n at her room with clothes?” The AI confirmed she would alert the witch. You smiled. 

“Thanks again, Nat,” you weren’t expecting this level of kindness from the other Avengers. 

“Just tell FRIDAY when you're ready,” you finished your breakfast and cleaned up the dishes. By the time you took the elevator to the floor you were on, Wanda was outside your door with an armful of clothes. You laughed. 

“Got enough options?” You teased, opening the door for her. She huffed with a roll of her eyes. 

“I wasn’t sure what would fit or your style,” she dumped the clothes onto the couch. “So I brought a lot,” she surveyed the mess she created. “Okay, I may have gone a little overboard.” You giggled and started to go through the pile. You settled on a SHIELD shirt, that matched the blonde’s last night, and a pair of black shorts. But a few dresses did catch your eye and you made a mental note to ask her to burrow them. After a quick shower and changing into clothes, you informed the AI that you were ready. 

“Miss. Romanoff and company are in the garage,” you grabbed your wallet, keys, and phone. “Step into the elevator and I’ll bring you down.” 

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you said, walking out of your room and to the elevator. Once inside, your mind began to race. You leaned back on the metal wall, looked up at the ceiling, and stared at your reflection. Was your apartment clean? You couldn’t remember. It was another effect of chemo - you called it chemo brain. Sometimes you couldn’t remember if you turned off the oven or locked the door. It was why drawing helped so much to pinpoint and focus on specific memories. 

So was your apartment clean? Gods, you hoped so. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You tried to push down your anxiety at the thought of 4 Avengers walking into a messy apartment. The elevator doors opened and you saw Natasha, Buck, and Steve next to a moving van and the blonde you met leaning against a red Mustang. The sight made you smile. “Hey Blondie,” her head snapped to you. 

“Blondie?” Natasha questioned looking at who you assumed was her sister. 

“Easton,” she smirked. “You are the reason I was pulled out of bed.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I believe that was your sister,” you tilted your head to Natasha. The three Avengers watched the interaction with confusion all over their faces. “We met last night. She knew who I was but refused to tell me her name so from now until she tells me her name she will be Blondie.” Natasha shook her head with a defeated sigh. 

“Ya delayueta (idiot),” she said, hitting her sister’s arm. Whatever she said made Bucky chuckle. It was Russian that you knew but you and Steve looked at each other, the only ones not understanding the language. Her sister frowned, rubbing the spot Natasha hit. “You’ll be riding with my sister,” you huffed. Her name was still a mystery but the blonde looked smug. “We’ll follow you.” 

“Sounds good, you smiled, getting into the passenger seat. You didn’t catch whatever Natasha said to her sister before they got into the van. The blonde got with a sigh and turned on the car. “What did she say to you?” 

“Put your address in,” she handed you her phone with the maps app already up instead of answering. You did as she asked and plugged it into the charger. “She told me to stop being difficult.” She began the drive to your apartment. 

“Difficult?” You didn’t think she was. “Why are you being difficult?” But you were curious why she kept her name a mystery. You couldn’t find much about her online with a quick Google search. 

“It’s more fun,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Do you not think so, Easton?” 

“Whatever you say, blondie,” you smiled. “Whatever you say.” 

*

You unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped out of the way for the Avengers to enter. It was a 2 bedroom, 1 ½ bathroom. You used your second bedroom as your office and art studio since no one was coming to visit you. You were lucky to afford a place like this on your own and a glance around it wasn’t a mess. Bucky carried in some moving boxes. “So all the furniture is gonna stay beside the stuff in my office. The pots, pans, and utensils will be donated. I guess we’ll pack as much as we can today and I’ll come back another day to finish it.” 

“Anything you want to prioritize?” Steve asked. 

“My clothes,” you smiled. “As much as I love Wanda’s clothes, I don’t think this is my vibe.” Natasha laughed. 

“I’ll handle your clothes.” 

“Steve and I will get your furniture from your office,” Bucky suggested. 

“And I’ll stand here and look pretty.” 

“Ya delayueta (idiot),” you teased. Bucky, Natasha, and the blonde looked at you, mouths open. “I pick up on languages easily,” A quick Google search also didn’t help. “It’s Russian for idiot,” you told the blonde super soldier. Steve smiled, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“She’s not wrong.” She gasped, clutching her chest. 

“Steve Rogers, how could you?” You smiled. 

“I’ll buy pizza if you do some work, blondie.” You said and walked over to your hall closet to get a cooler and some reusable bags. Packing up the kitchen was going to be your job so you could go through the fridge and pantry. Natasha headed off to your bedroom and Steve and Bucky went to your office which left the blonde in your living space. She put a box together and began to take the pictures off the wall. You couldn’t help but watch her. The living room was decorated with pictures and items from your travels and the research you’ve done. She would look at the picture for a little bit before putting it into the box. It was odd, a stranger was going through some of your most prized possessions, packing them up so you could move into the Avengers’ tower. What a strange life you were living. 

“So,” you looked at the blonde. “What languages do you know?”

“I’m fluent in English and German but I’ve traveled a lot and I can put up with delicate differences.” She nodded, picking up a handmade mug you got while volunteering in South Africa. You continued to watch her. There was an odd look on her face. You frowned, going back to cleaning out the fridge not wanting to think too much about it. 

*

Yelena walked into the spare room you deemed as your office. The space was cleaned out of a desk, a bean bag, and an art easel. There was something about you that Yelena found intriguing but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She put together one of the moving boxes and began to take the artwork off the wall. They were all line drawings of various sea creatures with watercolor accents. Her favorite was the blue whale with her calf. Once they were safely in the box, Yelena opened the closet. She wondered how you could afford this place on top of your medical expenses. A majority of the stuff was extra art supplies and canvas, all still in their original packaging. But what caught her eye was the flying cabinet. She couldn’t help herself as she knelt in front of it and opened the bottom drawer. Was it an invasion of privacy? Probably but Yelena was a spy at heart and her curiosity got the best of her.  

She wasn’t surprised that she found more of your artwork but the contents of the pictures were surprising. It was the Avengers in comic book format. The mission they were on Yelena didn’t recognize so she assumed you made it up. The details were impressive. She put the comic back and picked up another drawing. It was a realistic portrait of a woman. Yelena didn’t know her but she saw similar features of you in her. She made the educated guess she was your mother. Natasha called her on her flight back from St. Petersburg and explained your story to her; diagnosed with cancer and the only family you had left was Tony because a car accident killed your mother. It was weird learning about your life through pictures she had to pack. You’ve traveled and seen the world by choice. You had a loving mother and now a father that brought you in without question. Those relationships weren’t brought together by a Red Room mission. She understood the feeling that grew when she saw you. Jealousy. She was jealous. Jealous of a girl who was dying unless she got a bone marrow transplant. It was ridiculous, uncalled for. But she couldn’t help it. Every time she learned something about you, a warm feeling built in her chest and she envied everything. “For a spy, you're pretty easy to sneak up on,” Yelena jumped, turning around quickly. You were standing in the doorway with a playful smile on your face. “Whatcha got there, blondie?” You asked, walked over to her, and sat down. Smiling, you looked at the picture in her hand. “That’s my mom. It was right before the car accident.” 

“They never found out who caused it, right?” You nodded, taking the picture from her. Yelena frowned, not liking the sadness radiating from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff.” You placed the photo back where it belonged. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you stood up, holding out your hand to help her up. Yelena hesitated (she wondered if you noticed) but finally took it. Your hand was smooth against hers beside the small callus on your finger. “You would have seen them eventually. The pizza is here. I guess you did enough to deserve it.” You teased her. Yelena chuckled, rolling her eyes. She wondered how you kept your heart. It was what Melina said to her and Natasha before the Red Room took them - ‘don’t let them take your heart.’ Life had not been easy for you but you still managed to keep your smile and sense of humor. It was another thing on her list to envy. 

“Your evil, Easton,” you giggled, looking back over your shoulder. 

“You don’t know half of it.” 

*

FRIDAY told you that Tony was in his lap. You held a box that was decorated in red and gold, tight underneath your arm. In hindsight, you should have known who your father was based on the color of the box but you only saw it once or twice. When the lab door opened, Tony looked up from his workbench. “Hey kid, how was moving out of the apartment?” He asked. 

“Good,” you sat down on an empty stool next to him. “I have to go back again but a majority of my stuff is here.” You watched his eyes glance at the box. 

“Well, let me know if I can help,” you nodded, tracing the lid of the box with your finger and looking away from him. Tony pulled up another stool. “Hey,” you looked at him. “What’s wrong?” You sighed, handing him the box. 

“The letters she wrote to you,” he took the box, eyes wide as he stared at it. “You can read them or not or destroy them. It’s your choice.” 

“Thank you,” you nodded, standing up. 

“One more thing,” you let out a shaky breath. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Do-do you want to come?” You were afraid to ask him, unsure of his response. But your mom didn’t allow him to be in your life, you wanted to give him the chance. The ball was in his court. You could tell he was shocked by the invitation. 

“Of course. I’ll be there,” you felt the weight leave your shoulders. Since your diagnosis, you’ve gone to your doctor's appointment alone. “Just let me know,” you smiled. 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later, Tony,” you left his lap, hearing a ‘see ya’ from behind you. You took the elevator to the floor and into your room. It was a mess, boxes everywhere. You sighed, grabbed your mom’s quilt, and sat on the couch. The quilt belonged to your great-grandmother, who passed away before you were born. She gifted it to your mom when she graduated high school. It was blue and white with stars. You had great memories of you and your mom wrapped in this quilt reading a bedtime story by the campfire. You sighed, falling deeper into the couch and allowing the quilt to keep you warm. The mess could wait and be dealt with another time. 

*

His leg began to shake as he stared at the box still resting in his hand. He felt a panic attack building inside him. It was a long time coming with everything going on but he didn’t have time for it. On shaky legs, he stood up and opened a drawer at his desk pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. It was rare that he drank but he needed something to take the edge off. He picked up the box and sat down on the small couch. 

There was a part of him that thought about destroying the box of letters. He didn’t have to know what he missed in the past; he had you now and could look towards the future, no matter how short it may be. No, he couldn’t think like that. He poured his drink. “Tony, your heart rate has elevated. Should I contact Pepper?” 

“No, FRIDAY, I’m okay,” he wasn’t sure if he was okay but he opened the box. He wondered if there was an order to the letters. Each one was titled - 1st Christmas, High School Graduation, 5th birthday, and every milestone he missed Jessica wrote him a letter. Tony wasn’t sure how long it took before her words began to blur and he wasn’t making sense of anything. He missed you graduating high school and traveling with Captain Mills to help research how global warming was affecting sharks. He missed all of this because he wasn’t given a choice to be in your life. The beating of his heart was the only thing he heard in his quiet lab. His breathing was erratic as he picked up his full glass and threw it at the wall. The glass shattering startled him as he sat on the ground, back against the couch. He pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes, hoping it would help but it wasn’t. He couldn't stop the growing panic inside of him. It was too much.  

Soon he felt fingers running through his hair. FRIDAY must have notified Pepper and he was so out of it that he didn’t hear Pepper enter. “I’m here,” he mumbled. Pepper hummed, pushing some strands off his forehead that were stuck due to sweat. 

“That was a big one,” she stated. “Just sit with me, okay?” Tony didn’t have the energy to resist her as he rested his head on her shoulder. The sweet smell of her lavender perfume washed over him. He felt better, felt grounded. His heart rate evened out and his breathing wasn’t as erratic. “Do you want to talk about what triggered it?” She asked softly. 

“Later,” he said. “Can we just be?” Pepper nodded, holding him tighter. And they would talk about it later. But for now, they were just Pepper and Tony. Not the CEO of Stark Industries or Iron. Not a mother of 1 and a new father of two. In the quiet and empty lab, they were safe in each other’s arms. Just being Pepper and Tony. 

_ 

Taglist:  @likemick

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for having my dad meet my partner formally before my mom?

I’m 17 my partner is also 17. My parents are divorced, I live with Mom, majority of the time, and Dad on the weekends and every other week in the summer.

My mom has pretty much taken on a single parent role of sorts. My dad is very busy and often doesn’t come to things. He also doesn’t realize when things are important to me or my sister. My mom has been taking care of me and my sister’s needs For as long as I can remember.

I’ve been dating my partner for a little over one year now. We met at school and have become quite close. I have met all of the parental figures in their life, and even visited for a mini Thanksgiving. They had two days after Thanksgiving.

My dad and my stepmother are throwing a party for Christmas this weekend. My stepmother asked if I wanted to invite my partner. I said yes, not thinking much of it. Neither of us can drive, so it would be a nice excuse to see each other.

This morning, my mom asked if I would like my partner to come over beforehand to make and decorate cookies. I tend to say no to things automatically, before considering them. So I ended up saying no instinctually. I started thinking about it, and thought it would be OK, but I usually prefer the decorating cookies thing to be just us.

However, my mom is really upset because my dad will be meeting my partner officially before she will. She’s taking it very personally, and I have attempted to talk with her about it, but she won’t listen to me. I ended up admitting to her that I was scared for her to meet my partner for my partner to meet my father. I have mostly learned to ignore anything my father said, but meeting my mom is a bigger deal because she’s a really important part of my life. My mom isn’t judgmental, and they’ve met informally, but it just feels like a big deal for her to meet my partner.

My mom isn’t seeing it that way though. She said that I’m not telling the truth, which is fair, considering I sometimes will lie during to being anxious about how she would react to me saying the truth. She thinks that I think the house isn’t good enough, and that’s why I want to go to my dad‘s house. Our house is messy and cluttered but it’s nice and home. My dad‘s house is very decorated, with lots of more material things. my mom prefers to spend more money on me and my sister, then on stuff like that.

Now she won’t listen to me and I’m really scared that I’ve irreversibly messed up my relationship with my mom.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[lizajane2]

I was reading through some of my drafts and I totally forgot I had this, and while it still needs a little tweaking; I love every part of this conversation:

Morpheus could not bring himself to face Adina. How could he? He made a vow to make sure that no harm would ever come to her, but he allowed it to happen. She was supposed to be safe with him, in his realm.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“Rose Walker is a priority I cannot ignore.”

“I’m not upset that you have more important things that require your attention rather I’m wondering why you can barely look me in the eye. Surely you can spare a minute of your time to tell me if I’ve done something to offend you.”

“No,” he assured swiftly.

“No, I haven’t offended you or no you’re not going to speak with me?”

“I’m addressing you now, am I not?”

“Why must you always make things more difficult than they have to be? I believed… well, it seems I was wrong to assume that we were beginning to become friends after all this time.”

Morpheus didn’t look up from the pages he absentmindedly flipped through, pretending that her presence didn’t affect him. That he wasn’t solely focused on how he was finally able to hear her voice after ninety years. Or the warmth she provided. He’d normally seek her out when he needed comfort but now, he’s reminded of his failure, of what could’ve happened to Adina if he had been too late.

“Would you prefer I no longer stay in the Dreaming? Is that what you wish for? Gods, tell me now or I’ll take your silence as my answer.”  

Of course, that wasn’t what he wanted, nor did he wish to be friends. Could he tell her what his heart truly desires? How he imagines kissing her pink lips and wonders how she might taste? Should he tell Adina how he longs to memorize every curve and crevice of her body with his fingertips and tongue? Would she tremble beneath him and moan his name in a breathless plea? Could he tell Adina that he spends hours on end wishing, imagining, dreaming how it might feel to embrace her without inhibitions? No. No he could not, so Morpheus decided to stay quiet.

Tears stung Adina’s eyes and she quickly tried to blink them away. Could he not see that his silence was hurting her?

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

“No.”

"No?" She turned to him slowly, and his eyes burned bright like stars. He was angry. Adina almost wanted to laugh at his audacity. "Remove your hand, Morpheus."

"I will not allow you to step foot outside of my realm."

"We haven’t had a proper conversation in weeks, and you choose to command me. How dare you treat me as if I am one of your creations."

"You forget your place."

"What place do I have in your life? Two hundred years and I never questioned because I understood, but I see that out of pride and fear, you would rather prove Hob wrong than admit one simple truth. You are lonely." 

"Do not assume to know-."

"I am not finished," Adina interrupted, "and you will listen to me. Do you believe you are the only one here who feels lonely? For a century I had no idea who I was, in a vulnerable state that was taken advantage of by someone I viewed as a sister. Then my own father ripped me of my wings and chained me as punishment for abandoning him. I had no one to pray to, only you. Desperately hoping you might hear me one day."

Morpheus released the grip he had on her wrist and tears formed in his eyes, yet he refused to let them fall. As hard as he tried to forget the image of Adina being in pain, and Jessamy murdered in front of him, he could not. It haunted him. Adina was a constant reminder of how powerless and helpless he had been. He felt ashamed for not being able to protect her and angry with himself for not having more belief in Adina, just as Lucienne had.

"Do you have nothing to say," She asked quietly, giving him one last chance to speak with her, "do you truly not care for me?"

He could not blame her for thinking such a way. It was his choice to stay at a distance, one that Adina respected. But during his time as a captive, Morpheus found himself missing the rare moments when they walked through the garden she had grown in the Waking World. And how he would find her at the steps of his throne with a book in hand. He missed watching her interact with the nightmares and dreams he created. He had missed her.

Adina turned to leave again when he called out to her, his tone less demanding,

“Wait."

“I convinced myself you left," Morpheus finally spoke up and his admission caught her by surprise. “For decades, I believed your love for the Waking World outweighed your desire to stay here.”

“The Waking World or Robert Gadling?”

“Both, perhaps.”

“Yet I choose you every time. For the last two hundred years I stood at your side even when we were apart. Death herself would have to drag me away from you.”

“Yes, I am aware of that now,” he argued, closing the distance in a few strides. Morpheus hated the constant distance between them, physically and emotionally, despite it being his doing. “But it was better than the alternative.”

“If that’s how you truly feel then why continue to give me the cold shoulder?”

“I am reminded of my failure.”

“Morpheus-,” she tried to interject but he only continued.

“I should have had more belief in our friendship perhaps I could have found you sooner-.” His words halted when petite hands rested upon his chest,

“You are not at fault.”

“You're wrong. I swore that while humanity may be careless with your heart, I refuse to falter. Your suffering also became my burden to bear but even with all my precautions and demands, my creation of the Corinthian played a part in your capture.”

“An outcome that neither of us could have predicted.”

“One that I feel partially responsible for,” He placed a hand over hers and intertwined their fingers, squeezing gently. “I failed you.” 

“You haven’t failed me. Here, feel,” Adina placed his hand on her chest so he could feel the warmth of her skin and the strong beat of her heart. “Flesh, blood, and bone. I’m here if you will have me.”

Morpheus had slipped his arm around Adina’s waist, drawing her closer, and rested his forehead against her own. How long has he imagined holding her this way? How long has he desired to be mere inches from Adina’s lips and practically taste her? His thoughts were halted when he spotted the glint of a chain around her neck that was slightly hidden beneath her white satin blouse. To see the ring around her neck surprised him just as it confused him.

“You’re safe here,” he assured softly.

“I know but I like having you nearby even if it is just a piece of you,” she confessed, his gaze still on the ring he held between his fingers as if pondering.

Is it possible, he wondered. Could she feel even a fraction of what he did for her? The ring jingled against the chain as his fingers ever so gently glided up her throat, and he took notice of the way Adina’s chest heaved. As though his touch made it difficult for her to breathe

Adina’s free hand came up to the back of his neck, desperate to keep him where he stood. Morpheus pulled his head back a little to look into her eyes, an expression he’s never quite seen before. Or perhaps, it had always been there. The desperate longing to get closer to the other, to give into the desires that plagued her heart and mind.

“You hesitate.”

“It’s not hesitation but restraint,” he corrected, his fingers now getting tangled in her hair. “I do not know if I would be able to stop.”

“As if I’d want you to.”

[awesome-normal-heroes]

If you don't like Lumity, how do you feel about Catradora and Rednid? 030

Well...

I don't truly ship any of these...

But I prefer Lumity over Catradora and I might prefer Rednid over Lumity...

Why?

Well for Catradora, Catra tried to destroy the world and she tried blaming Adora for it happening (thankfully, Adora calls her out).

As for Rednid, I prefer it over Lumity because they handled Red Action's story arc a bit better than Amity's, in my opinion.

You see, Red and Amity were both jerks at first.

Red:

After her own team viewed her as an enemy over a mistake and getting a terrible haircut, Red and her new friends go out of their way to be jerks to people.

Red and her jerky friends play a mean prank on KO (who only wants to help them) and then Red posts it online.

Despite this, KO forgives them and still helps them... KO's compassion and courage weirds out Red, but she does become a better person because of it, that she (and the rest of the plaza) later helps KO fight a giant robot.

Red treats KO decently from then on.

Red then begins her arc with Enid.

And her arc ends with Rad, who holds a grudge against Red for how she treated KO at first, including the online post, which everyone acts like it never happened.

When Enid and KO learn the truth, even Enid knows that what Red did was messed up (while KO looks back at the memory fondly for some reason) and Enid praises Rad for thinking about KO.

Then Red goes back in time to her past self, to prevent KO's prank video from ever being posted and she talks about how deeply she regrets it, thus Red and Rad get along now.

Amity:

*She was best friends with Willow, until her parents told her stop and be friends with stronger, richer and jerkier witches.

She allows her new jerky friends to pick on Willow and Amity sometimes would make fun of Willow as well, when Willow's abominations aren't working (her parents didn't tell her to do this).

And this happened for years, until Luz arrived to pretend to be Willow's abomination.

*Amity is angry that she's no longer the best student and yells at Willow, then Amity tries to get Luz dissected with the principal's help (it probably was a fake dissection, but it was never clear)... Amity tries to attack Willow and Luz with her abominations, while Willow uses her plant magic to fight back...

Later Luz meets Amity again and brings up how Amity tried to dissect her, which Amity ignores and insults Luz because of her lack of magic... Then when King trips and loses one of his cupcakes, Amity steps on it on purpose, causing Luz to challenge Amity to a witch's duel...

They also have a bet where if Luz wins Amity has to apologize to King for stepping on his cupcake and say that humans can be witches, if Amity wins Luz has to say that humans can't be witches and give up on training with magic forever and then Amity casts a handshake hex for extra measure... If you ask me, it's kinda unfair that Luz lose would lose a lot more if Amity wins; Luz should've said that if she wins, Amity can't be mean to Willow and King ever again...

During the duel, Amity smiles while she attacks Luz...

Then when after the duel and both girls learn that their teachers (Eda and Lilith) were cheating during the battle, Amity was upset that her teacher made her a cheater and runs away... Luz finds her and Amity takes her anger out on Luz... Amity talks about how hard she worked to be the best student and become part of the emperor's coven, then gets angry at Luz for not taking being a witch seriously and tells Luz to confess not being a true witch...

Luz reveals that she is working hard to be a true witch and shows off her light powers to Amity... Luz earns Amity's respect and Amity breaks their deal... Amity walks away and Luz returns to her friends...

Amity never apologizes to Luz or King for her actions...

*Later, Luz learns that Amity and Willow used to be friends, but Amity ditched Willow when Willow didn't have strong magic yet...

Despite learning this, Luz reads a book about a hero befriending an enemy and wants to do that with Amity...

Amity works at the library and tells Luz to leave her alone when Luz tries befriending her... Then Luz befriends Amity's older twin siblings instead and they play pranks on the library... Luz and the twins sneak back at night to play more pranks, then the trio find Amity's diary to show the embarrassing pages to the school tomorrow... But Luz is against the idea and tries to put the diary back... Luz learns that she and Amity both love the same fantasy book series...

Amity walks in outraged at the trio, calling the twins the worst, while calling Luz a bully...

Seriously?

She has the nerve to call Luz a bully?

Why does Luz want to befriend this girl again?

Luz runs after Amity to make amends, then the girls both defeat a corrupted book character...

Amity takes back calling Luz a bully and admits that she hasn't been the nicest witch either and she will try to work on it...

A proper apology to Luz for all her cruelty in the previous episodes would've been nice, but it's better then nothing I guess...

*Amity does slowly become nicer to Luz after the library episode...

But during the Amity episodes, both Luz and the cartoon seem to temporarily forget that Amity was still Willow's bully and ex-friend, which leaves a bitter taste in my mouth personally...

Until the episode where Amity accidentally burns all of Willow's memories and both she as well as Luz have to enter Willow's mind to restore them...

Luz doesn't even stay mad Amity for long, despite burning Willow's memories aka the person that is supposed to be Luz's first friend AND best friend....

Amity even has the nerve to later be angry at Luz for trying to convince Amity to talk about her past with Willow...

Then the Angry Inner Willow appears and tries to burn Amity, but Amity reveals the truth about her parents forcing her to stop being friends with Willow...

Keep in mind, Luz was befriending Amity BEFORE she learned about this truth, so Luz was baiscally trying to befriend Willow's bully because she read a character from her book befriending enemies...

Which makes Luz not a great friend to Willow...

Amity apologizes to Inner Willow, saying that she was too weak to be her friend and promises to protect Willow from Boshcha from now on...

It's ironic that Willow gets an apology for the bullying, yet Luz never does despite being Amity's love interest...

*Amity does protect Willow and later Luz from Boshcha for an episode...

However, they don't hang out again, unless Luz is involved...

Amity slowly becomes so obsessed with Luz, that it sometimes feels like she doesn't care about anything and anyone else unless it's Luz-related... By the time of Season 2, when Amity gets her hair dyed purple (like Luz's shirt), Amity became Luz's blushy number 1 fangirl... Amity lost most of her personality and doesn't even have her own dreams or goals anymore...

At least Red Action and Catra still have personalities...

At least Enid and Adora usually keep their backbones, when their love interests are being jerks...

The same can be said about Princess Bubblegum, when Marceline gave her a hard time...

Luz seems to lose her backbone, whenever Amity is angry at her...

No wonder Luz trusted Hunter instead of Amity with her Belos Secret...

But at least Lumity didn't go through any cheating and love triangle nonsense, like Korrasami did, I will give them credit there...

Anyway, my point is they could've handled Amity's character and the Lumity Story a lot differently...

Because whether you like Lumity or not, you gotta admit that Willow deserved better then constantly getting ignored like that...

[newbie-whovian]

"What would all the Doctors when they and reader have a lover's spat?"

(Absolutely! Thanks for the ask anon! Sorry this took so absurdly long 😭)

All Doctors x Reader - Spats

1 probably started it, not gonna lie, and for the first bit afterwards, he simply refuses to admit he's wrong. He moves on quickly though, a little too quickly sometimes, but he always apologizes (even if it comes much later than you'd prefer).

2 knows that disagreements are normal but when they turn into spats, he can't help but feel a little guilty for making something out of nothing. He enjoys ruffling your feathers sometimes, sure, but he hates the thought that he might have actually upset you, so he makes sure to make it up to you.

3 turns spats into an art form. He is infuriating, plain and simple, and he knows it. Just look at his banter with the Master; he can bicker with the best of them. He tries not to be horribly mean spirited, and if he is, he's quick to make it up to you with a trip in the TARDIS.

4 bickers all the time because truly, he's only ever polite in tense situations. He has his sweet side, definitely, but more often than not, he's unintentionally quite rude. Spats are always over silly things, and he always forgets them very quickly, moving on like a derailed train.

5 insists that he would never, and to give him credit it's barely a lie. Spats are only ever over the tiniest things, and they never last very long at all. He's always quick to forgive and forget because truly, staying mad about the little things is never any good.

6's love language is arguing. Hands down. The spats that he doesn't start are few and far between. But truly it's never genuinely malicious; he loves to have a partner that can dish it back to him because really, what's the fun in one-sided arguments?

7 probably started it on accident; some scheme of his went sour, you were accidentally caught in the crossfire, and although everything turned out alright, you still can't get over the fact that everything would have gone a lot smoother if he'd communicated at all. It's truly like arguing with a brick wall.

8 is Confused™. Spats come as a genuine surprise to him because most of the time he can't think of any reason to argue, unless it's over something completely ridiculous. He absolutely hates the idea of you staying mad at him though, so he's quick to try and make it up to you.

The War Doctor is too preoccupied with getting traumatized to argue. Or have a partner, for that matter.

9 has very little patience for arguments, but he's also not very good at explaining what he's thinking. This leads to some interesting spats where everything could be avoided if he knew how to communicate properly, but c'mon, this is the Doctor we're talking about. He tries his best.

10 is an absolute disaster but refuses to recognize it. This can end in some pretty one-sided spats, where he's in some pretty firm denial about ever doing anything wrong. He's always eager to make it up to you with a trip.

11 hates arguments, and it would seem that spats are much more up his alley but that couldn't be further from the truth. He can't stand the idea of disagreeing with you about anything. They're never about anything serious, but he lets them bother him for way longer than he should.

12 is Awkward™ and until you understand his love languages, tiny spats are abundant. He can be pretty rude but that's vastly overshadowed by his protective streak, and the end result is some admittedly frustrating spats.

13 couldn't argue with you if her life depended on it. That being said, you do have disagreements, but she prefers to ignore them until the problem goes away.

[missingmywing]

So as per usual for me and fics, this will be long. Ryomina is fun and has a lot to play with. (Ao3 link)

Day 1: First Meeting/Childhood Friends

I’m playing fast and loose with canon and the actual lore behind Nyx, because as much as I like FFVII I don’t want to just write Jenova 2.0. So my lore is that she is a being of the collective unconscious like the other “gods” in Persona, she’s just much, much more powerful because death is an inescapable, tangible thing that happens rather than an intangible concept.

Also Erebus isn’t… a thing. I understand and respect what the team was going for with how they did Nyx and Erebus with The Answer, but it makes things more convoluted than necessary for my preferences. Humanity’s despair and wish for death doesn’t need a tangible form - Nyx can sense it directly and her radar lights up red when she’s called for directly (thanks Kandori, thanks Kirijo) and that’s what makes her active. Minato’s seal acts like a buffer or a muffler - an interference so she can’t hear herself being called (unless it’s particularly direct). Because you can’t kill death - and even if you could you shouldn’t because unconditional immortality is a very bad idea- and I’m getting off track. Point is I’m making P3 consistent with the lore of the rest of the series rather than “it was aliens, actually”. P2 subverted that, P3 can’t just turn around and play it straight while hiding it under a mountain of conditional lore.

Also exploring Minato as a freshly traumatized child is a fascinating exercise. Newly nihilistic six year old has not realized he’s nihilistic yet because everyone is still assuming the apathy towards everything is a normal trauma response. He and Death have such an interesting dynamic as they both learn.

FINDING OUT HALFWAY THROUGH THIS THAT IT WAS APPARENTLY RECENTLY CONFIRMED THAT TATSUMI PORT ISLAND IS SUPPOSED TO BE BASICALLY ODAIBA WAS INFURIATING. What do you MEAN Gekkoukan is in Tokyo, no it is not I’ve had the hc that Minato spent his junior high years in Tokyo for YEARS do not do this to me Persona. Anyway, I moved it so that I can keep my hcs the same, it’s still in the same general area it’s just outside of Tokyo Bay rather than inside it now. I was so tempted to keep the long-standing guess the fandom has had and put Tatsumi Island in Kobe you have NO IDEA. Fucking Odaiba man. Maruki says hello Nyx.

~ ᙙᙖ ~

In one world, they wouldn’t have met or known each other until Minato was sixteen. Minato would have been not-so-blissfully ignorant of the truth of the events that happened that night of the explosion. Nothing but vague memories of a bright light and broken cars and fire all around.

But in another, Minato remembered.

Unbuckling his seatbelt to look at the ocean far below, the explosion that threw him out of the car, his mother’s teary pleading for him to live, the collision of a robot and monster on the bridge that threw everything else back, the flashes of a chaotic fight, the guilt and devastation in the robot girl’s eyes as she pressed the blue fire containing the monster to his chest and apologized for turning him into its seal-

That was technically the first time he met Death.

But it wasn’t until a month later that they met properly, face to face, and Minato could acknowledge him directly.

It had been… a rough month. The aftermath of the accident had destroyed and consumed his life - left him thrown about from hospital to police station to a different and more elaborate and creepy hospital where he stayed for nearly two weeks while people in lab coats ran tests and poked at the new giant scar on his chest and men in suits tried to get in contact with a family member they could force to willing to take him, and then he was given to his aunt and uncle who weren’t expecting to suddenly have a child to take care of and were upset and scrambling to adjust. And they weren’t cruel or dismissive but he knew they weren’t happy to have him here suddenly and his aunt was devastated about her sister’s death and their smiles were so fake and he couldn’t even cry which made them uneasy and more upset and-

Minato had heard the words “trauma reaction” and “emotional suppression” more in the past month than his entire short life beforehand and he wished he could understand what that even meant but it felt like everything was a blur and just floating past his head.

He knew there was something wrong with him, though. That had been obvious at his parent’s funeral where he didn’t even feel anything and couldn’t bring himself to react or say anything to the parade of people coming over to talk to him.

The doctors who they kept trying to make him talk to acted like it was normal. His aunt and uncle acted like he was broken. Everyone else acted like he was a ghost.

He was pretty sure the ghost comparison was the one that was closest. He had a monster inside of him now, after all. The same monster who was probably responsible for his parents dying and midnight turning weird.

But maybe he was a little broken too because of it. Because he didn’t hate that monster even knowing all that. He didn’t really even miss his parents even though he’d always loved them so much before. He didn’t… care. About anything.

And he wasn’t scared, on the full moon a month after the accident, when the midnight hour hit and there was a sharp, tearing pain in his chest, and the monster appeared in a blaze of blue fire. It hovered over his bed like the evil creature from every scary bedtime story and stared down at him with its chain and torn brown cloak and a sword in its hand.

It looked evil but it didn’t feel evil. He’d always been good at telling what people around him felt - a gentle soul with an empathetic heart his mother had called him - and the monster felt… empty. Empty like he always felt now. There wasn’t any anger or hate like he’d expected from a monster.

He sat up and looked at it blankly, waiting for it to do something. Try to kill him like it had been trying to kill the robot, maybe. When it didn’t do anything he tilted his head and asked, “What’s your name?”

Might as well know what monster he was supposed to be “sealing”.

The creature stared down at him for a moment of silence, then spoke in a raspy, echoing voice - like two pieces of metal screeching against each other in the undertones. “I am Death.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess that’s why you killed people.” He frowned. “If you’re trapped inside of me then are people going to stop dying then?”

“No,” the monster said. “I embody the concept but I am not its entirety. I am merely the harbinger for she who calls the end.”

“What do you mean? What’s a harbinger?”

“An omen. I am a sign that the end has come - that humanity has forsaken its will to live and wishes for the world to end. I am the call to the goddess of death, Nyx, to bring death to all.”

“But that’s… not true. Most people don’t want to die. You can’t say that humans don’t want to live when most people do,” Minato tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know anyone who really wants to die. It’s usually an accident, or because someone else did it on purpose.”

“My very existence is proof that humanity has succumbed to despair and wishes for death. Your sole experiences are meaningless.”

Minato stared at him for a long moment then shrugged. “You’re wrong, but okay. Are you going to kill me, then? I think the robot girl made it so you can’t leave, that’s why she sealed you inside me.”

Death was silent for a moment, then said “My very essence has been sealed within you, bound and entwined to your soul. Your death would mean an end to my existence as well, vanishing into the Sea of Souls alongside you, unable to accomplish my goal.”

“So… no?”

“No. So long as the seal is intact I am incapable of killing you.”

“Okay, so you can’t leave and you can’t kill me. I’m going to sleep then.” Minato fell back and tugged the covers back up, rolling onto his side so his back was turned to the mon- to Death. “Night.”

The Shadow stared incredulously at him for several long minutes until his breath evened out and it became apparent that he truly was asleep.

It seemed the Anti-Shadow Unit had indeed known what she was doing to best undermine him. He was truly and solidly trapped.

… time would tell how this would play out, he supposed. After all, time came for all in the end and death was the most patient of mistresses. Nyx would wait.

~ ᙙᙖ ~

Minato quickly got used to Death showing up. First once a month on the full moon, then as time went on he began showing up in his dreams, and then speaking into his head while conscious outside the extra midnight hour.

It was almost surprising how quickly Minato got used to him - by the time a year had passed Death had become a normal presence in his life. Not a comforting presence, perhaps, but normal. The Shadow, as Minato now knew he was, still disbelieved Minato when he said that humanity really didn’t seem to be calling to Nyx. He remained adamant that it was simply Minato’s small range of existence that hid the truth.

And maybe that was true - maybe the small city he lived in didn’t show how many people were wish for the end. But if there were actually that many surely he would have met at least a few here.

Death did slowly become more curious about the day to day lives of people as time passed though, asking questions first during meetings in his dreams and then directly in his head once he’d figured out how to break through the seal enough to do so.

Minato probably should have been more worried that he was doing that, but most emotions were muted and distant these days so he just learned to ignored the burn and stinging pain in his chest that indicated Death taking an active interest in something going on. Sometimes it was a history lesson or science assignment, sometimes it was a conversation with a classmate or an overheard argument between adults.

He gained an active presence in Minato’s head just in time for the christmas season, actually, so Minato got very used to tuning out the pain of it very quickly because Death seemed fascinated and bewildered by… just about everything about the holiday. Things Minato had taken for granted were now subject to question and he had to ask about quite a few of them himself.

Granted he and Death both realized pretty quickly that the adults around them were simplifying explanations to make him understand it, because Death asked a lot more complicated and confusing questions about humans and traditions and… something about transferral of religion? Things Minato didn’t understand and couldn’t figure out how to ask about because he wasn’t sure what Death was actually asking.

What did someone dying for everyone else a long time ago have to do with christmas trees?

Once Minato asked Death that question in return the Shadow seemed to realize that Minato didn’t understand a lot about what he was trying to figure out and returned to asking more simplified questions.

Some of them still went over Minato’s head - why did it matter about the weird necklace the student helping at the shrine was wearing? The shrines never decorated for christmas, everyone knew that - but at least he could answer why the teenage boy was sneaking the bracelet he’d bought into his pocket so the girl with him wouldn’t see it.

The true shift in their relationship happened around the year mark of the accident.

Death could still only manifest physically on the full moon, but he did so each month without fail. Perhaps to ensure that he still could. But this time was… different.

Because when he did Minato felt something like satisfaction or triumph flicker through his chest as the Shadow appeared - and the fire vanished to reveal a boy the same age as Minato. He looked similar, but had darker and shorter hair, and his eyes were a bright blue. He was also wearing a striped prisoner outfit like out of a movie, but that was obvious enough why.

He looked down, examining himself, and nodded in satisfaction. “It worked.”

Minato tilted his head at him. “You were trying to turn yourself into a human?”

“I’m still not actually human, I’m merely taking this form. But yes. I thought it might better help me understand humans if I could imitate their form. So I tried to copy yours. It’s not exact, but I suppose that’s the influence of my inherent nature.” He hopped up onto the bed beside Minato. “If nothing else, it should be less disorienting to speak with me during this hour in this form.”

He wasn’t disorienting to talk to in his other form either, but he seemed unusually pleased with himself about this so Minato didn’t see a reason to contradict him. “I won’t have to look up at you anymore, I guess.”

“Exactly. I still know that humanity is calling out for the end, but it is strange how much attachment to life the people around you have in general.” The Shadow turned cocked his head with a thoughtful look. “If I imitate and understand humans, perhaps I can understand why that is.”

Minato really didn’t see what was hard to understand about people generally not wanting to die, but he supposed it was a fault of Death being a Shadow. And, well, Death.

“If you want,” he shrugged. “I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about it, but if it’ll help you understand then I think it’s fine.” Death still hadn’t shown any indication that he was about to break out of the seal, after all, so he couldn’t muster any real worry about it.

Not that he’d probably be able to stop him if he did, but… well, the robot girl had entrusted Death to him when she failed so the least he could do was make the attempt.

~ ᙙᙖ ~

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d crossed the line in the minds of adults around him from “recovering from the accident” to “creepy”. But he began noticing it over time as one year crept towards two towards three and his aunt and uncle - rather than adjusting and becoming comfortable in his presence - went from uncertain to uneasy around him.

At first they’d looked at him like they weren’t sure what to do with him, like he was one wrong word from breaking down crying. But now they looked at him like they thought something was wrong with him - like they didn’t want to figure out what to do with him.

He blamed Death, honestly. The Shadow was rubbing off on him as much as he was on the Shadow.

The whispers behind his back that they thought he wasn’t listening to - unnatural, too quiet, emotionless, never cries, never throws a tantrum, never gets happy or upset, doesn’t have friends, looks right through you - definitely made it sound like there was something wrong with him.

He didn’t really feel wrong. He just didn’t feel strong emotions - was more tired than anything a lot of the time.

But maybe that was the proof that something was wrong, because he remembered feeling more strongly about things, remembered feeling excited or scared or sad or happy so strongly he thought it’d overwhelm him. His parents had gently chastised him more than once about an excessive reaction to something.

So maybe they were right and there was something wrong with him. That “something wrong” just happened to be the personification of Death sealed in his chest, and there was nothing he could do about that.

Not… that he really minded. He liked having Death in his mind, asking questions and making him wonder about the world around him in ways he wouldn’t have otherwise. He liked being able to guess what the people around him were thinking and feeling based on their expressions and body language. And it came in handy on tests when he couldn’t remember the answer to something and Death was willing to remind him.

It just meant that Death stayed his only friend because everyone around him found his presence off-putting and unnerving. Even his teachers didn’t really like him if they spent any time outside of class with him. And his aunt and uncle only became more distant and unnerved as the years passed and he didn’t become more open or how he had been before the accident.

So it wasn’t really a surprise when he turned ten and they told him that he’d be moving in with a cousin. Their excuse was that they were trying for a child, and didn’t want to divide their attention between two children who both needed it so he’d be sent to someone who could continue to devote attention to him.

It would have been a lot more convincing if they had been devoting attention to him rather than avoiding him or becoming very strained when they did interact with him.

Minato… didn’t really care, he’d been expecting it, but there was a keen edge of resentment from Death at both the lie and the disregard.

(There was something else there in the undertones that Minato couldn’t quite read. A bitter, sharp edge of emotion that Death tried to hide from him, and Minato didn’t ask. If Death wanted him to know then he would tell him.)

There had been no expectations on Minato’s behalf on his way to Inagawa in Hyōgo - it was a relatively small town comparatively, fairly rural, and he knew nothing about the cousin taking him in. He wondered how they’d been convinced.

The town was… nice enough. Surrounded by mountainous area, forest on all sides, lakes and rice patties in the distance…

Altogether different than the cities he’d grown up in.

His cousin, as it turned out, was a middle-aged no-nonsense man clearly far more focused on whatever his career was than any sort of familial relationship. Given how quickly the man had gruffly brushed through introductions and a tour of the apartment - relatively small and sparsely decorated, the man clearly spent almost no time here - and essentially told him he was on his own and to stay out of trouble, Minato assumed he’d been promised that Minato was low-effort and he’d be able to effectively ignore him.

Which wasn’t inaccurate so he couldn’t complain too much.

(Death seemed to take it the wrong way and got very annoyed, though, which was almost funny.)

It did mean that he had to learn to cook. He got an allowance, enough to cover any food he needed, but unless he wanted to live off of prepackaged food he did need to learn the basics at least.

… although after his terrible start of burned rice and an uneven omelette the man did at least teach him those basics, so he clearly wasn’t entirely uncaring. Or he just didn’t want to risk a fire.

Death was relieved about that, though he did seem to derive some amusement from Minato’s inept attempts at learning to cook. Not that he was any help. Any number of historical or philosophical questions he’d be more than happy to lecture about, but anything practical and he was useless.

It wasn’t a bad two years. Just as lonely, but not bad. Less side-eyes and unease at least.

His cousin was very rarely home, and when he was he was usually working on either paperwork or a laptop. The man didn’t seem to care about friends or social circles, or at least not enough to invite anyone over, and he and Minato largely ignored each other when they were home at the same time. He didn’t ask about Minato’s grades or social interactions either, which his aunt and uncle had still done, which made it harder to really care about them either.

Minato continued to be off-putting to everyone around him, it seemed, but he still wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing to drive them away and make the kids call him scary and the teachers murmur that he was unnerving. It wasn’t just lack of emotional reactions, he didn’t think, because there were a couple of other kids that were like that and they were called “cool” and “admirable”.

But something about him made people shy away and refuse to meet his eyes.

Maybe it was the same thing that made animals nervous around him.

The same thing that made the other Shadows leave him alone during the midnight hour, even though they would attack anyone else able to move around. That ability didn’t seem to happen here, at least - he never encountered anyone else out the few times he wandered around town in the green light.

Which was more than he could say of the city he had lived in - after the first time he’d been out and encountered both a person and the Shadows around, and his presence had whipped the Shadows into a frenzy and made them more aggressive than usual towards any one else around, he’d avoided going out during that hour.

Death made them more dangerous, and Minato didn’t want to be responsible for anyone dying.

But it wasn’t a problem here, and there was something fascinating about walking around an empty town covered in blood and coffins beneath a green moon. It was eerie.

It made him feel the most alive that he had been since the accident.

Still, it was just one more thing that set him apart from everyone around him and he continued to spend most of his time alone. Often with a book. And while animals were more nervous around him than other people they did warm up to him relatively quickly once assured he wouldn’t hurt them. Once he realized that it wasn’t quite as lonely, and he became a friendly face to several of the strays around.

And Death was always there. He never really left anymore, and the pain of his presence had long since vanished. Minato chose not to think about what that meant for the seal. He was a friend, always at Minato’s side, and the years passed had made his comments about being the harbinger existing only to usher in humanity’s death fade into only the occasional thoughtful consideration about one situation or another. His absolute certainty that humanity at large wished for death had diminished significantly in the face of so much constant drive forward from everyone around Minato. Instead, he seemed to be searching for what humans did want - what it was that drove each one forwards to the future, each person chasing after their own goals in life.

Minato certainly didn’t have the answer, and people didn’t like him enough to be willing to tell him, so they contented themselves watching and listening and speculating.

So the two years he spent in Inagawa were peaceful enough, with various animals and Death (both in his mind and in child form) keeping him company.

~ ᙙᙖ ~

And then that peace was summarily shattered when his cousin announced that he was getting engaged and moving in with his fiancee to Osaka, and Minato would be moving in with another relative, a different cousin, in Tokyo.

When it happened Minato felt nothing more than a twinge of disappointment. He’d hoped to keep this peace for a while longer before his presence became a nuisance again.

Death was significantly more displeased, irritated that Minato’s cousin was displacing him rather than adapting around him, concerned about being sent to Tokyo - and there was that something more to that thought that Minato was sensing from him more and more often these days - and handed off to another relative they knew nothing about, a frustration on Minato’s behalf that they’d long since acknowledged he probably couldn’t feel. But there was nothing they could do about it, so Minato packed his few belongings again and was gone.

Had they known what was waiting for them - had he realized the abrupt downward spiral his life was about to take - perhaps he would have mustered the care to ask to stay.

But they had no way to know.

The first sign that something was… off… was on the way to the address he’d been given. Shinjuku had residential areas, of course - nice ones, even. But the address didn’t lead him to a nice one. It was a ragged, run-down area, with dirty alleyways and narrowed glances sent out covered windows.

The fact that it was just outside Kabukicho didn’t help.

It set him on-edge despite himself, and for the first time in years Death pushed against the seal hard enough for it to burn.

“It’s not the midnight hour, not for a couple more hours,” he thought to the Shadow, watching a group of shady looking men muttering in an alleyway from the corner of his eye. “Even if you broke through the seal you couldn’t manifest.”

“It’s possible that I could,” the Shadow shot back. “We’ve never attempted it.”

“We’ve never seen any Shadows out in the daylight, only during the midnight hour,” Minato pointed out, taking a step to the side as a ragged cat hissed at him from under a dumpster.

“I’m not a normal Shadow.”

Minato didn’t respond.

They didn’t know what would happen if Death broke fully through the seal, but it probably wouldn’t be anything good. So Minato would just have to try and avoid being put into a position where it was necessary.

Easier said than done as he quickly found out. His… aunt? cousin? he wasn’t quite sure and she didn’t clarify so whatever- apparently worked in Kabukicho as supposedly a hostess, and had only agreed to take him in because she was hoping he would be a second source of income. Which, given the kinds of places in this area that would be willing to hire a junior high student, did not bode well for his likelihood for staying out of danger.

Death was irritated on his behalf, but it wasn’t as though they could really do anything about it. Any authority figures would just turn a blind eye - that became apparent the moment he arrived at school and met his homeroom teacher, and then the rest of the teachers were no better - and she hadn’t done anything to him yet so he couldn’t use anything against her.

She’d just made it clear that if he wanted to eat he’d bring home enough money to make it worth feeding him.

So he quietly asked around. Several of the other students in his class also had jobs, though whether it was for a similar reason he didn’t know and didn’t bother asking, so he had a few options. Not many, and none of them particularly appealing, but unless he wanted to either starve to death or learn to steal he’d just have to accept it.

Minato settled on the job that seemed like the least effort and one of the ones less likely to be directly tied to any potential host club scams or yakuza operations.

Washing dishes at the back of a host club wasn’t exactly fun, but it avoided the risk of being caught by any police or getting caught up in any drug trafficking. And the midnight hour meant he could grab an hour long nap in the middle so… it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. His sleep and grades both suffered for it, but no one was expecting him to have good grades anyway and none of the teachers cared to check why it was happening, so… he supposed it was convenient.

It was… fine.

It was fine. It was tolerable, no matter how frustrated Death got, and he could deal with the constant smell of cigarettes and alcohol all around him, could wrinkle his nose and turn away to his book or homework when she came back smelling of alcohol and sex, could tune out the chatter and flirtations from the room over at the club, could ignore the rumbled clothes and bruises peeking out on skin from the hosts and hostesses around the area.

Minato kept his head down, didn’t talk to anyone unless he had to, and no one really approached him. People in Tokyo - or at least this district of it - didn’t seem as bothered by whatever off-putting aura that had always scared everyone else, but they weren’t really inclined to bother with him either. Which suited him just fine.

Months passed easily enough, his cousin (as he eventually did find out) was satisfied for a while with the money that he did bring home and seemed happy enough that he wasn’t going to bother her or get in her way that she didn’t really bug him either unless she wanted one chore or another done while she was out.

She did kick him out a few nights a month to bring men home - though whether they were clients or boyfriends he didn’t know or care - but those were passed studying or doing homework in a cafe nearby that didn’t mind some kids in his situation hanging around all night provided they bought something every now and then. It wasn’t uncommon to see a few others around, sometimes he even studied with a couple of classmates or helped an elementary schooler out with their homework (except one who rebuffed him with a flash of red eyes and a snap that he could handle it himself), but largely he remained in his corner and tried to ignore the rest of the world as Death muttered and complained in his head.

He was equally pouty in his child form on those nights he joined Minato during the midnight hour, perching on the edge of his futon and casting annoyed glances across the room at his cousin on the other futon. Minato rolled his eyes and ignored him, until he flopped backwards and sprawled across Minato in a way that clearly demanded attention and Minato just patted his head and let him keep complaining about the people and world around them.

Minato hadn’t been expecting a christmas gift from her, but she seemed to be in a particularly good mood around that time so he didn’t question it. He supposed she’d caught the eye of a particularly affluent client or something because she suddenly had new clothes and jewelry. Plus decent takeout rather than Big Bang Burger or some other fast food chain.

But on christmas morning she cheerfully handed him a wrapped box with a comment that he’d earned something for his efforts this past year, and when he opened it with a quiet thank you he found an mp3 player and pair of headphones inside. It was the first present he’d gotten in years and quickly turned into the best he’d ever gotten.

It was something to drown out the tedium of the world, to filter out all the static and noise of the world around him into a steady, predictable, stable beat. Whenever it got too much he could simply put the headphones on and turn on the mp3 player and everything would fade away. A lifeline.

A necessary one, because things rapidly got worse after that. The giddiness that had clung to her throughout December began fading rapidly throughout February and into March. She got defensive and quiet, snappish, almost always on her phone, scrolling away as though looking for something. Biting her lip until it nearly bled - an unusual habit for someone so careful with her appearance.

It all came to a head around mid-April, just after the new school year had started, in the afternoon before Minato left for work. He was sitting at the low table, working on homework, when she suddenly made a snarling sound and started a phone call.

He quickly put on his headphones and turned on his music, tuning out whatever angry argument she was picking over the phone. It wasn’t his business, it wasn’t his problem.

It quickly became something near his problem when a bottle shattered against the wall dividing the kitchenette less than a meter away from his head and his gaze snapped up to find her glaring in his direction with eyes blazing and lips pulled into a snarl. Minato froze, unmoving even as Death reared up protectively in his soul and the seal burned beneath the weight of his presence. But a few moments passed of her glaring, chest heaving, before her mouth began moving again as she yelled something and he took note of her glassy eyes and distant gaze and he relaxed as she jerked her gaze away from him to continue shouting. She hadn’t been looking at him or aiming at him, he’d just been in an unfortunate direction. Death reluctantly faded back, but didn’t pull away entirely just yet.

He watched her shake her head desperately and fall to her knees on the floor as tears began streaming down her face and her other hand reached up to clutch at the desk of empty beer bottles she hadn’t gotten around to throwing out yet.

Or just throwing yet, apparently.

With a soft sigh Minato closed his workbook and leaned over to begin picking up the glass shards before one of them stepped on them. The bottle had at least been empty, so they wouldn’t have to deal with stains on the wood floor. The star of Sapporo sat wholly intact, almost mockingly, as he collected the glass in his hand.

By the time he’d finished picking up the glass and throwing it away, it seemed the call had ended and she was staring unseeing at the wall as tears streamed down her face. Minato stared at her for a moment before going back into the kitchen to fill a glass with water and pick up a cloth.

He knelt to set the water down in front of her and held out the cloth.

It took her a few moments to reach for it, but she did. She buried her face in it and sobbed.

Minato shrugged and returned to his spot at the table to continue his homework.

Things did not improve from there.

She became… unstable, switching between listless and desperate in the span of hours. If she was home without a client she was either drunk or drugged, and she either ignored him entirely or demanded he help out more. He quickly became the only one doing chores - if only to avoid being yelled at or risk having something thrown again - and after several months of her unable to bring home as much money as was satisfying to her he became the target of her ire for how little he was also bring back.

Comparatively, anyway.

He ignored it for several months hoping she’d get over whatever rich guy had gotten bored of her and leave him alone again, but it quickly became apparent that it wasn’t likely. It was only a matter of time before she began making threats again, and at Death’s urging Minato began considering his options.

A second part time job wasn’t particularly feasible given how much time the one he already had was taking. He could avoid being at the apartment as much as possible, but he still had to sleep sometime and the last thing he wanted was for her to decide she needed to hunt him down. He could use the midnight hour to shoplift, but that wouldn’t necessarily satisfy her if she wanted actual yen to use.

Well, he could try to start breaking into registers he supposed, but he didn’t know if he wanted to start dealing with the risks of that. Just because there weren’t people or camera didn’t mean there wouldn’t be evidence and just because Kabukicho had an underbelly didn’t mean it was actually illegal. He didn’t need the police to track him down using dna evidence or something. Besides, he had to set the standard somewhere.

He could take a different risk and get a more lucrative job elsewhere he supposed (Death didn’t like that option). He refused to work at the front-facing side of a club, but one of his classmates had talked about a package sorting job that paid well and was looking for a couple more people.

Minato had avoided it before - like most of his classmates did - because he didn’t really want to deal with drug smuggling. But it was a significantly higher pay, and his classmate had assured him that he’d been working there for three years and it really was just organizing packages into the correct address delivery bins. It really was just an ordinary job.

(So long as he didn’t open anything went unspoken.)

So with a heavy sigh and Death stewing angrily in the back of his soul, Minato followed his classmate to get recommended for the job. He was hired instantly, given a brief tour of the small warehouse, given an overview of how to organize the packages properly, warned not to open any of the packages for any reason, and then pointed at a stack that needed to go out the next morning.

The job wasn’t as bad as they’d both been concerned about. It really did seem like a normal sorting job. And it paid well.

None of which put Death at ease as he hovered almost painfully close to the seal constantly these days. It was getting to the point that Minato could almost feel the seal slowly dissolving as the nigh-painful tingling of it rapidly faded and Death came closer and closer to the forefront of his mind as the weeks passed.

Minato didn’t bother fighting him on it - the Shadow would worry regardless and if he did manage to break through the seal and manifest at least Minato wouldn’t have to deal with a fight himself.

(When had the worry of the consequences of the seal breaking faded? He could barely remember the robot girl who had sealed the Shadow inside him now, even if the guilt and grief in her eyes still haunted his dreams anytime he inhaled a lungful of smoke from somewhere. What did he care about the world? If Death broke free and destroyed it - well it wouldn’t be his problem for long.)

The uptick in money satisfied his cousin for the time being at least, so she went back to mostly ignoring him in favor of whatever poison she’d chosen for the day. He spent more time in the cafe than the apartment just for the smell alone, even when she hadn’t brought someone back.

The world faded more and more into the grey of exhausted numbness from there. An endless routine - get up, silently get ready for school, go to school, try not to sleep through his classes, leave for work, work until the daily quota was filled, go to the cafe to study until the midnight hour, leave once the hour was up and the cafe closed, return to the apartment and sleep, then get up again.

It was easy to lose track of the days when he didn’t talk to anyone and spent most of his time drowning out the world with his music. The date on the board and subjects of the lessons were really the only ties to reality that he had between the monochromatic repetition of everything else. The sudden uptick of pressure in the middle of the year to study hard and improve their grades in order to do well on high school entrance exams and get into a good school was a sudden shock to them all, and it did a little to break things up.

But even that quickly dulled back into routine - it was all just memorizing dates and facts and kanji and equations, and with Death in his head to help he wasn’t likely to do badly even if he didn’t bother trying.

Though even if he got accepted there was no guarantee he’d be able to attend. Given his cousin’s increasingly empty eyes and unstable attitude and inability to maintain her grip on money he highly doubted she’d be willing or able to pay for him to attend. Which was one more thing for Death to become angry over, but Minato didn’t really care much.

Even if he did attend, what then? It was just a continued routine. How likely was it that he’d make it to graduation and find somewhere decent to work?

Really, what was the point of it all?

Not that Death let him get away with that. As Minato had less and less motivation or will to bother even trying with anything, Death pushed harder and harder to make him. Pushing him to study, to do well on tests, to remember to eat lunch or dinner even if he continued to skip breakfast. Nudging him to stop by and try that restaurant, or get that soda from the machine with a weird name.

He was less enthused by Minato’s willingness to accept the can of Asahi beer from some of his classmates during one of their study sessions on the roof, but the taste alone meant that Minato wasn’t in any hurry to try it again. Not to mention the way it made the numb disassociation from the world even worse.

The sensation of a near-complete break from reality didn’t quite scare Minato, but it did unnerve him and the alarm it raised from Death only made it worse. So that wouldn’t be any sort of habit he would fall into.

Unlike some people he had to clean up after.

The high school issue was resolved when he got within the top ten marks in the school and was offered a scholarship to the closest high school. It was not what everyone had meant when they talked about a “good” high school, but anything was better than nothing so with a bit of prodding from Death he accepted.

Not that it really changed anything - other than the location, it was simply exchanging one routine for another and he quickly sank back into the grey numbness.

Nothing really broke through it for a while. He was distantly aware of his cousin getting paler and thinner, the desperation towards something rising, until a bit before summer she stumbled into the apartment and cornered him against the wall.

“I need you to get money,” she said, gripping his arm tightly.

Minato tilted his head, feeling Death rearing up close to the seal warily. “How much?”

“A million yen.”

“A million yen?” Death repeated incredulously.

Minato sent her a blank look. “That’s impossible.” How in the world could she possibly expect him to be able to get that much?

“What?” she asked dangerously, leaning close. “Do you even realize the situation we’re in?!”

“No. You never told me.”

Her face twisted into an expression of such frustration he thought she was about to start screaming. She didn’t, instead snapping, “That damn club is demanding a million yen from me for ‘services rendered’ - which is bullshit they’re a shitty club anyway - but now I have to pay it or my reputation and ability to get clients is ruined!”

That club? Had she- “How does a hostess fall for a host club scam?”

“I did not get scammed!” She shoved him against the wall and spun around to storm towards the desk against the opposite wall. “Just get the money.”

He considered for a moment. “No.”

Everything froze, before she slowly turned to stare at him with a darkness brewing in her eyes. “What?”

Minato stared at her blankly. “No. I told you that’s impossible. You got scammed, deal with it yourself. It’s not my problem.” He wasn’t going to get any homework done here. Picking up his bag, he turned to leave.

“Now wait just a damn minute you brat-”

He turned to look at her as she lunged for him and felt the seal burn, stretched so thin it was on the verge of snapping as Death lunged back with his presence, and she stumbled to a stop as the blood drained from her face. Minato waited for a moment before leaving.

He’d have to hope she wouldn’t retaliate.

Apparently Death had scared her enough in that moment to avoid him entirely, because she would barely even look at him other than the occasional glare if they happened to be home at the same time. So he tuned her out as well, putting his headphones on and ignoring her.

Trying to ignore the fact that she was looking more sick and exhausted by the month. It wasn’t like he could do anything about her irresponsibility - he was already giving her the money he was making, and unless he wanted to get actively involved with the yakuza he wasn’t going magically get a job that payed more.

Maybe if she stopped spending her money on ways to forget the problem she’d be able to deal with the issue. Minato had already caved and started shoplifting food during the midnight hour when she stopped bringing groceries home.

Death was getting more worried and frustrated as time passed, and was curling up next to Minato in human form nearly every night for the midnight hour. Sometimes they talked, but most of the time they just leaned against each other to derive what comfort they could. Death clung to him like he was afraid he was going to disappear, which was funny given that of the two of them Death was the one only tangible for an hour.

Death and the mp3 player were really Minato’s only lifelines by this point.

He probably should have been paying more attention. Should have accounted for human vulnerability and desperation and realized what she would end up turning to. Though he really didn’t know what he could have done about it even if he had known - she wouldn’t have listened to him if he told her not to anyway.

December was cold.

It always was, but it somehow felt colder standing in the back alleys a few blocks from Kabukicho’s streets under a flickering street light with a dozen men from a local street gang staring down Minato and his cousin. That explained why she’d rushed in and grabbed him, told him to come with her and hurry and be quiet.

What had she expected to happen if she ran from her debt after borrowing money?

At least it wasn’t the yakuza, he guessed, but this wasn’t really much better. She was shaking with terror next to him, tears welling in her eyes.

“P-Please-” she stuttered, “Give me a little more time! I’m working on it, I promise, we both are, so-”

“It’s been over six months, the hell much more time do ya need?” The man in front snapped, pulling his jacket back to rest his hand on his gun. “I don’t appreciate games, girlie, we got our own expenses. You said you’d have it paid back by now, and I’m holdin’ ya to your word.”

“I-I’m trying,” she protested, hugging herself. “I swear I am, I thought I’d have it by now but the club across the street keeps bribing people to help them steal our business! I’m doing everything I can, if I can get another couple of months-”

“That’s what you said three months ago!” Another one snarled, pulling out his own gun to aim at them. “We’re not gonna keep buying into the lies of a drug-addicted whore!”

“N-No, please-”

What was Minato supposed to do here? There were a dozen of them with guns, and even with Death straining as hard as he could against the seal - to the point where Minato could barely stand from the pain and was very sure that it was about to shatter completely - there wasn’t anything he could do outside the midnight hour. An aura of death didn’t do much good when the men were both used to death and very much armed.

Could he buy time? Even if he did, there wouldn’t be anywhere for them to run. He didn’t think he could defuse the situation when they were this angry over broken promises. He wasn’t going to make stupid promises he couldn’t keep either.

Minato didn’t really care about dying. If he died here… it was fine. He didn’t care. But Death did, and Death was one of the only things that Minato could bring himself to care about anymore, so he should at least put some effort into not dying. And he didn’t really want her to die either. She wasn’t exactly good, he didn’t really like her and she’d made too many mistakes, but that didn’t mean she deserved to die for it.

Not that deserving it had ever saved anyone.

Minato sighed. “Is killing us really going to solve anything?”

The man in front narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t like being lied to, brat.”

“Not saying you should. But she is still paying you back, even if it’s not as quickly as she promised.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If you kill us you can’t get any money from us. I’m not defending her, just pointing it out.”

“You offering to take her place?” One of the men in the back sneered.

Minato sent them a flat look. “I’m already giving her all the money I make, so I kind of already have.”

There were snorts and scoffs from several of them and the man in front smirked. “Sounds like you’re not in the right business then, boy. How about I cut you a deal - I’ll get you a job that you can pay us back in no time, and we’ll let you both walk away from this alive. Do a good enough job and we’ll even let you keep the extra.”

Well that wasn’t an obvious hook or anything. It was probably some sort of smuggling, and they needed someone as unsuspicious as possible to the police. He wasn’t really interested in getting dragged into that because people who got involved rarely left, but they didn’t really have many options either.

“Stall them until midnight and we’ll have plenty of options,” Death growled, clawing at the seal. “I hoped I’d be able to break out before then, but it’s more difficult than I anticipated.”

Ah. Killing them during the midnight hour was probably the easiest solution to the problem, yeah. Almost everyone turned into coffins, so letting Death break through the seal and then dealing with them one by one would be simple enough.

So Minato tilted his head at them. “What kind of job? I need details before I promise anything.”

“Do you really have room to negotiate here?” the man asked, pulling his own gun out and flipping the safety. Minato’s cousin gasped, stepping behind him and grabbing his arm.

Minato shrugged. “Not negotiating. Just making sure I can actually keep my promise before I make it.” He flicked a glance down at his mp3 player - ten minutes to midnight. He could keep them talking for ten minutes.

“Well I guess you’re smarter than that girl hiding behind you then. You don’t really get much of a choice in this if you want to live, though.”

That was assuming quite a bit that he cared about living, but whatever. “So? What do you want me to do?”

The man scoffed. “Well you’ve got spine and an attitude, I’ll give you that. It’s simple - we get packages goin’ to and comin’ from all sorts of places around Tokyo. You’ll be our little delivery boy. Nice, simple, and easy, yeah?”

Minato didn’t bother reacting. “Drugs or weapons? That will change how it needs to be handled.”

A nasty grin broke out across his face. “Oho, got ourself a bold one here, huh? Not even a flinch. Keep that attitude and you might do just fine. Bit o’ column A, bit o’ column B. Depends on the day, and our buyer or seller.”

Helpful. “That’s not much to go off of if you want me to start planning how to get them past the police. I didn’t grow up in Tokyo so I’m not as familiar with it’s blind spots as a native would be.” He wasn’t going to look at his mp3 player, he wasn’t going to try to count the minutes passing. Midnight would get here when it got here.

“Heh, I applaud the initiative but we won’t just leave ya flailin’ around blindly. We’ll pair you off with a couple of our other runners to start, let them teach you the ropes. We ain’t heartless, kid, just don’t like bein’ lied to.”

“Not heartless, merely willing to blackmail teenagers into smuggling illegal items for you,” Death hissed. “Be ready, Minato. It’s going to hurt when I break through the seal.”

“It always does. I’ll be fine; I’m used to it,” Minato thought back, watching the gang mutter amongst themselves. “So you say. I suppose if I get caught I’ll be left to fend for myself?”

The man shrugged lightly. “We gotta take care of ourselves first. Consider it motivation not to get caught, yeah?”

He’d figured.

“No. No, not again, not like this.” The smallest whisper came from behind him, and he had a moment of confusion followed by an unexpected bolt of dread as his cousin suddenly straightened with teary eyes and stepped out from behind him.

“Don’t-” he began- but she didn’t listen.

Why? Why did she choose now to grow a conscience?

“Enough! He’s got nothing to do with this - I’ll clear the debt myself, I promise! There’s no reason to drag him into this even more and I won’t let you-!”

A shot rang out. It echoed around the empty alleyway and rang loudly in his ears. Pain burned burned burned more fiercely than it ever had before in his chest and he was frozen, eyes wide as his breath struggled to come. He almost expected to feel blood on his chest, wished that he could feel blood on his chest, but it wasn’t him who’d been shot.

She let out a shuddering little choked gasp, and Minato turned to see her reaching up to clutch at the wound with wide, horrified eyes. He couldn’t- he couldn’t breathe as she staggered and fell- blood pooling around her as the light above them flickered-

-fire flickered and flashed off the metal, shimmering in the pooling blood, and he saw his mother burned and broken as she smiled hopelessly at him and begged him to live as she and his father and his twin sister wouldn’t and- he couldn’t move- couldn’t help- he was completely helpless-

The men jeering and bickering lightly was distant in his ears as the world faded into a distant grey and the pain burned and the world suddenly shuddered and shifted around them as the moon flashed green-

-and the men’s laughter turned into something startled and alarmed but he could barely hear them and he wasn’t listening-

-and a scream of pain suddenly echoed and bounced off the alleyway as the ground rose up to meet him and his knees hit the blood-covered pavement and his chest felt like it tore itself open and another more monstrous scream joined his own and he distant heard the gang’s voices rise as well-

The blood on his chest and staining his shirt was his own from where the seal had been torn open and Death emerged. The blood on his hands and on his knees were hers. Hers where she was lying on her front surrounded by the pool of her own blood, and he struggled to balance as he leaned forward and rolled her over onto her back. She was still just barely breathing, eyes glazed and distant through her tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, staring up at the green-tinged moon. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry Minoru-kun, I messed up again. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want this. Please forgive me, please I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to, I wanted to live and go see Paris and New York and London like we promised we would-” she choked and coughed, blood streaking her lips as her hand shakingly reached up. Minato reached out and took it, holding it between his as she struggled to breathe. “Please help me. Please don’t let me die, I have so many more things I want to do.” Tears streaked down her face to mix with the blood. “Please, Minoru-kun I’m not ready to follow you yet…”

Minato just distantly watched her and held her hand as she slowly went still and cold and even the echoing screams of the gang members eventually stopped. Everything felt distant and painful and he couldn’t bring himself to move even once Death returned to his side with bloody swords.

He wondered if he was supposed to cry here. If he was supposed to feel grief and loss the way everyone had said he should for his parents and sister. If he was supposed to feel anything beyond the disconnected exhaustion and pain of the shattered seal.

“What am I supposed to do?” he wondered aloud, staring down at his cousin’s body blankly.

A soft sigh came from above him, and suddenly Death had discarded his swords and knelt down to wrap his arms around Minato. “I think we both know that normal rules do not apply to you.” A pause, and his grip tightened. “I am sorry for that. It is my presence that has stolen pieces of your humanity and suppressed your emotions.”

Well they hadn’t talked about it, but it made sense.

Minato let go of her hand and twisted around to lean against Death. “Maybe. I don’t blame you for it though.”

“… I know. Perhaps it would be easier if you did.”

“I doubt it. I waste enough energy on just staying alive. Hating you or the robot on top of it just sounds exhausting.”

Death let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “I would say that I don’t understand you, but I unfortunately do after spending nearly ten years in your soul.”

Minato hummed tiredly, closing his eyes and trying to tune out the pain still stinging his chest and blood still seeping through his shirt. “Whatever consequences it may have,” he said quietly, “I’m glad you did. I wouldn’t have wanted to go through this without you.” His lifeline. One of the two things that kept him sane and grounded in the static haze of this life.

The Shadow let out a shuddering breath and hugged him tighter. “I am glad that my presence has brought you something other than pain, at least.”

“Death, you’ve been my best friend for most of my life now. I’ve been with you longer than I’ve been without you.” He reached up rest a hand on his shoulder. “You should know by now that you’ve given me plenty more than pain.”

Death went still for a long, long moment, and Minato waited for him to process and accept that before responding. When he did, he caught Minato off-guard. “I suppose I can’t deny that. But… Death is not accurate for who I am anymore. For whatever I may have given you, you’ve given me far, far more.” Minato blinked his eyes opened and craned his neck to look up at him. “I am Thanatos - and you have given me so much of yourself, shared so much of your soul with me even beyond the nature of the seal, that I have become a Persona.”

“A Persona?” There was psychology terminology in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite remember through the exhaustion of the night’s events.

“An aspect or manifestation of your soul. It’s-” he paused, amending, “-likely a bit too complex to explain in your current state. In normal cases a Shadow is the parts of yourself you deny, a Persona is the part of yourself you accept and project unto yourself. I’m a special case, for obvious reasons. Consider me an extension of your soul who wants to protect you, for now.”

“That’s what you’ve been for years,” Minato muttered, closing his eyes again. “So even thought the seal is broken now, you’re staying?”

“Yes. I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll remain at your side for as long as I can.”

“Saying it like that makes it sound like you’ll leave eventually.”

Dea-Thanatos was silent for a moment, and Minato felt his bone chin brush his head. “… eventually I may have no choice, and I’m sorry for that. If I had my way I would remain by your side forever.”

“But?”

“But I have a feeling the events from nine years ago are going to come back and haunt us soon. Death was separated into many parts that were scattered, and I was sealed within you. If those parts are rejoined, Death will come again and usher in Nyx. I will have no choice.”

“We can’t just prevent the pieces from being rejoined?”

“I doubt it. Nyx, even incomplete, is the source of the midnight hour and the Shadows. So long as we exist, so to will they and so too will the Shadows. I suspect things will come to a head very soon.”

“And we’ll be in the center of it,” Minato sighed, tipping his head against him. “Okay. I still want you to stay with me. As long as you can.” He wasn’t sure what his life would be like without Thanatos, but given how much the Shadow had been a constant companion and push forward he doubted it would be better.

“I will. You should sleep - my breaking through the seal exhausted you thoroughly. I’ll keep watch and prevent any Shadows from coming near until the hour is over. From there, though…”

“Someone will see the bodies and call the police,” Minato murmured as he finally began giving in to sleep. “Since I’m injured too I probably won’t get in trouble.” Hopefully. Whatever Thanatos had done to the gang members, it definitely wasn’t something he could be blamed for.

“Then rest - you’ll need it.”

~ ᙙᙖ ~

Minato woke up in the hospital a week later.

It was incredibly disorienting to experience - the neutral tones of the room, the beeping of the monitor, the IV in his arm, the fuzziness in his head - but Death- Thanatos- rose up to press against the back of his mind with a familiar reassuring coolness that helped chase away the worst of the confusion.

As long as he was still here, it was fine.

It took several long minutes of just thinking and reorienting himself to remember what had happened. While he didn’t feel the grief or pain everyone seemed to expect from these things, there was at least a twinge of regret that things had turned out as they had.

But what was done was done - there was nothing he could do about it. No one could change the past. Time moved forward regardless of wishes.

So he move forward with it. When the police questioned him what had happened he was mostly honest - until the events of the midnight hour happened when he feigned confusion. His cousin had been shot by the gang, and yeah he looked like he’d been stabbed but he was pretty sure it had been from behind, and he had no idea what happened to the gang because he’d passed out after being stabbed with a knife.

He was pretty sure the police came to the conclusion that his cousin had been involved with a yakuza or something, but she clearly hadn’t told him anything about her job so he somehow wasn’t held responsible for any of her actions and was simply handed off to his uncle - a high ranking and very wealthy businessman also in Tokyo - although in the Shimbashi district instead of Shinjuku.

Sure. Whatever.

His uncle was… distant, at best. Much like his other cousin had been, the man was busy with his work and wasn’t interested in interacting with him beyond the necessities. That was more than fine with Minato - it was nice to be invisible and self-sufficient without expectation again. He even got an allowance without needing to get a job again. It was a minor relief he hadn’t expected to feel, but it was there.

He still went to the same high school for the final three months but his uncle explained that he’d be leaving for an overseas business trip around March so Minato would be transferring to a different high school with dorms for the next year.

Minato was incredulous for… several reasons. The fact that his uncle was going out of his way to ensure he’d be… safe? successful? not left completely alone? for the year was surprising enough. The fact that it was an incredibly expensive private high school was even more so.

At least until he was told the name.

Iwatodai High School, on Tatsumi Port Island just outside Tokyo Bay.

It sent Thanatos on immediate high alert, and Minato understood a few moments later. The Moonlight Bridge leading to the island was where his parents had died and Death had been sealed inside him.

The the island itself was where everything began.

Thanatos had been right - the events of nine, nearly ten, years past were coming back to haunt them.

He didn’t show any of the realizations on his face, but he had a feeling that this wasn’t a coincidence. The man gained custody of him and immediately went on a business trip oversees and sent him to the island where this had all begun nearly ten years ago?

Especially now that Thanatos had broken through the seal.

His uncle may not know anything about what had happened, but someone did and this was no coincidence.

And so, come April, Minato left Tokyo proper and got on the train heading to Tatsumi Port Island for the year. Even with his headphones on and music blaring in his ears it couldn’t quite drown out the world around him this time. The buzzing beneath his skin from Thanatos was agitating, stirring up his own feelings of apprehension.

Whatever was waiting for them - scientists and laboratories and Shadows and Personas and at the end of it all the personification of death itself, and maybe, just maybe, a robot girl who had looked at him with such sorrow ten years past - most of it probably wouldn’t be good.

He probably wouldn’t even survive it.

But at the very least, he thought as he stepped from the station and into the coffin-strewn street to the dorms, he wouldn’t be alone through it. Thanatos would stay with him.

Although getting to the dorms and finding him smiling cheerfully behind the check-in desk with a quip that he was here awfully late made him suspect that the Shadow- Persona, would likely be stepping up his obnoxiousness and pushiness towards socializing and trying things.

… the contract was unexpected, but Thanatos likely had his reasons - even if he was pointedly keeping them to himself for the moment - so Minato just sighed and signed the book. As he handed it over he asked, “Are you planning to tell me what that’s about?”

Thanatos just smiled enigmatically at him, folding the contract close to his chest as though it was something precious. “All in due time, my dear Minato. All questions will be answered and all secrets revealed soon enough.” He closed his eyes thoughtfully for a moment. “No one can escape time. It delivers all equally to the same end.” He focused back on Minato and the fold vanished with a twist of his wrist. “You can’t plug your ears or cover your eyes to escape.”

The lights of the dorm began fading around them, shadows creeping up the walls and across the floor, and Thanatos smiled and reached out to Minato as they wrapped around him.

“And so it begins.”

And then he was gone, returning back to Minato’s soul with something mischievous about him that Minato didn’t feel like figuring out, and Minato was left standing along in the dark entranceway.

No one could escape the end. He’d known that.

They both knew that whatever happened in this place, during this year, would be an ending of sorts. It was just a matter of what kind of end. He placed a hand on his chest, where the scar from the seal still lay. But whatever it was - they couldn’t escape it. They knew that.

So they would just have to take what happened as it was, no matter what it brought.

He was at the beginning of the end.

“Who’s there?!”

~ ᙙᙖ ~

This was fun! It was also twice as long as it was supposed to be, but such is my curse with writing these days. The Ryomina was more implied than explicitly stated, admittedly, but I got caught up in the childhood friends part of it.

Also blink and you miss it Akechi cameo lol

[evansbby]

I apologize for taking so many days to get to this. Please don’t take it personally. This chapter was phenomenal, and I loved that it was so long! Don’t ever apologize for thinking you wrote too much.

I’m going to get a few things out of the way before getting into the heavier stuff. 1st, Wanda is a horrendous friend to reader. She only pays her any attention when she hasn’t got a man around, and she’s way too much of a drinker, and a mean drunk at that. 2nd, Curtis is disgusting. It pains me to say so because I usually love a Curtis, but this one is just a pig. Trying to get reader at the party, then settling for Wanda, and stringing her along while he’s with however many other girls along the way. 3rd, as impossibly hard as it would have been, reader should have told Sharon the truth in the beginning. It would have been mortifying, and probably would have ended the friendship, but it would have saved them both a lot of pain, and reader a lot of guilt.

Now onto Ari and Steve. Neither of them would give her a breather so she could think things over, or figure anything out. She needed a break from both of them for that. The main difference I see between them is that Ari manipulates her, is sweet when she hits her breaking point, but doesn’t apologize or take responsibility for the havoc he’s caused in her life. Taking her on a picnic seems nice, but he basically kidnaps her, and brings her someplace completely secluded. She had no choice in the matter. At least he didn’t force himself on her. Steve apologizes, takes responsibility, and tries to explain his issues, albeit unsuccessfully. He does try though. He also tells her how he feels, and not just because he’s forced into it. He came to her in the window, he allowed her to stay in her safe place. Reader either misses or ignores red flags with each. She was the other woman for Ari, even if naively. Once a cheater, always a cheater. She was not his first, and likely wouldn’t be his last regardless of what he said. I know she didn’t understand the situation in the beginning, but she still continued on with it when she did. He told her repeatedly he’d dump Sharon, but led them both on for an extended time. Huge red flags. With Steve, he was on a ledge, drinking, and told her he’d taken medications. He said more than once he hoped he would stay comfortably numb, that it would be enough, that he didn’t care if it was over. He was crying out for help. She kinda got it, but not quite, and sent him on his way. That was as red a flag as could be. The wind was an ominous sign, and she even felt that it was. The night was not going to end well. I will give Ari credit for calling for help when Steve passed out. What Steve did to reader in his bedroom was awful. He attempted to rape her, and make her feel like she asked for it. I’m not going to excuse that. It was wrong. He has definite issues. He does seem genuinely sorry for it, and took responsibility for it.

Now for poor Kira. As soon as you first introduced us to her, I knew Ari had done something horribly wrong to her to change her and her life so much. He did that maliciously, and ruined her life. She will never forget that. It will be on her mind everyday. She doesn’t deserve that. That she was his friend’s little sister who trusted him makes it even worse. I think reader and Kira could be good friends, and help each other a great deal.

All that considered, to answer your questions:

1. Although Ari’s picnic had a beautiful setting, I prefer Steve coming to the window. It was more sincere.

2. Wanda is an awful friend. If she hadn’t been so drunk, mean and desperate she may have heard correctly that Curtis TRIED to have sex with reader, reader refused!

3. Sharon had every right to be upset with reader. Reader not only cheated with Ari, she didn’t confess when she should have.

4. I believe there were more than just nude pictures involved in what Ari did to reader.

5. After weighing the behavior of each, neither of which is anywhere close to perfect, and how they acted afterwards, I’m Team Steve. Please don’t kill him off.

Thank you so much for all your hard work in writing this chapter as well as the previous ones, and thank you for sharing your gift with us. 💝

Oh my gosh please do not apologise! It’s taking me ages to slowly get through all the feedback and I’m not even close to done so it’s good you took all the time you needed! I get that it’s a super long fic and I’m honoured that you and so many others read through it!

so you are staunchly team Steve as are many other people on here 😂😂 I feel like if I was a reader and not the author, I’d be on team Steve too just bc of how tragically he’s written hehe I’m a sucker for tragically written characters!

And you’re very right, Steve was crying out for help multiple times when he climbed through reader’s window… it was all just a big cry for help but it went over reader’s head. She can’t be blamed tho, she had problems of her own. But I get why she would blame herself 😭

As for Ari… well you really dislike him don’t you 😂 and I get why… he’s done a lot of unforgivable things! But one thing I will say is that he didn’t REALLY kidnap her I mean she clearly lowkey wanted to go with him and it did her good to get some sunshine and leave her dorm room where she’d been rotting! I mean sure it was technically kidnap but you know 😂😂😂

ANYWAYS, thank you so so much for this super long and lovely review! It’s always a pleasure reading what you have to say about my fics! Thank you soooo much 🥹🥹🫶🏼🫶🏼

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

The Circle of Truth

Not Natural ✨ The Devil's Trap ✨ Holy Water ✨ The Demon's Altar ✨ Midnight Meeting ✨ The Hunter's Trap ✨ Sharp Secrets and Bloody Blades ✨ A Hunter's Beast Tamed ✨ No Chick Flick Moments ✨ Witches, Bitches, and Beasts ✨ Cursed or Not ✨ Poison Lips and True Love's Kiss ✨ Swallowing Hard Truths ✨ Salt and Burn ✨ Five More Minutes ✨ A Hell of an Identity Crisis ✨ Spilling Tea and Baring Teeth ✨ How to Break a Devil ✨ How to Upset Mother Earth

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: SPN inspired, ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats), demon Kells, hunter Dom, magic, another SPN character surprise, getting caught, fighting, secrets revealed, mentions of sex, mentions of blood drinking, mentions of death, mentions of curses, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of past relationships, mentions of mpreg, jokes, teasing, insults, attempting to choke an immortal, angry boys, terrified boys, definitely not cuddling, boys no longer secretly in love ⚰️ rating: mature

The night air felt thick enough to choke on- or maybe Kells was just feeling too much and his lover had played with the collar around his neck all day. He'd kept it taut while the devil tried to teach him how to shoot though he realized quickly his Hunter didn't need any training. The boy was a badass, he just didn't prefer a gun. He'd yanked on it when their lesson eventually got them too worked up and he rode his alpha to the ground. At one point he even wrapped the chain around Col's wrists to prove how much the beast trusted him. At dinner he'd taken to pranking, he'd choke Keliphos as he moved to eat and somehow even that devolved and he slid under the table once the witch was gone to bury his face between Dom's thighs and suck his spend from inside him. It had been a long glorious day of bruised throats and straining cocks but eventually the human passed out and the nephalem ignored all he'd learned to instead act on his own in secret.

He wasn't actually doing anything he wouldn't tell his omega about, he just didn't want to cause a fuss. If his plan turned out helpful he'd tell him automatically but if nothing turned out he didn't want to get anyone worked up or upset. It didn't take him long to search out a circle of the flowers he needed in the witch's garden. It was so perfectly grown he knew what it was made for- exactly what he was about to use it for. The scent of the yellow flowers was almost too intense but it probably just felt that way because the smell was thick in hell. It clung to the crossroads demons who moved between realms and grew in the places they were called to most. It felt cloying but he kept going, moving through the motions to summon his friend.

"Oh Kells, it's been a wee time! You could have at least stopped home to check in." Her accent was as thick as her long red hair and it warmed his heart to hear she didn't seem upset. In all technicalities she was his boss and he hadn't been doing shit for hell. "Well don't you look lovely. Would it be bold of me to ask if ya found something to keep you away?" She purred, her soft fox shaped eyes taking him in under the moonlight.

Keliphos grinned, stepping further into the circle to give her a quick hug. Once upon a time or two they'd been very close- it was hard to deny a beautiful woman with a dancer's body and enough power to make you melt- literally, but thankfully not to anyone she liked. Since taking over hell she was even stronger and more sure in herself. Normally he'd be giving her a good grope and stare, especially in the little red silk Xena dress she wore but not anymore. He gave her a chaste snuggle and a kiss on her cheek before stepping back and smiling stupid wide. He didn't mean to grin like a loon but he was realizing how badly he'd been looking forward to telling her. Maybe he did have a few people he called family already.

"I did. Row, I can't even explain. He's- fuck he's perfect. A stubborn asshole but… You'll love him. He's so great you won't even care he's a human Hunter." He joked.

Rowena rolled her eyes and she could do it better than anyone, to the point that it always made him laugh. "A Hunter? I suppose the brutes can be lovely boys but I wouldn't have thought you'd fall for one. Honestly I didn't believe you could settle down at all. The sirens and succubi will be so disappointed." She purred a playful tease and he chuckled. "So tell me of this perfect Hunter I'll love, what's his name?"

The devil paused, his gaze flicking away a moment as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He was surprised at himself, he trusted Row more than most but part of him wanted to keep Dom all for himself.

"Oh my, you're truly head over heels I see. You don't have to tell me but whatever did you call me for? Did you miss me?" She soothed, her lips curling up at the corner.

"I always miss you, my Queen." He winked back exaggeratedly before taking a breath. He trusted her and they'd probably need her help in the long run. Astaroth was one of those demons that mostly stayed in hell. Fucking weirdo. "His name is Dom. Dominic- but Dom." He knew she would recognize the name, most of hell knew of the fucker's penchant for stealing boys but everyone knew about the one that got away.

With that new knowledge Rowena looked around, seemingly realizing where she was. "Keliphos dear, what have you found your way into?" She worried for him.

"A family." A new voice made them both look to the house where Tom was stalking closer. "Rowena." He gave a polite greeting, nodding his head to her once as he joined them in the circle and smacked the nephalem on the back of his head.

"Shit! Fuck you, you're not my real dad." The devil teased, crossing his arms and faking a pout. He was actually quite nervous, he'd just summoned the queen of hell on fucking Gaia's property without permission but when the two witches hugged he took a breath.

The look Tom gave the brat was something between shocked and annoyed but he seemed to be playing so he let it go. "Would you like to explain what's going on?" He asked.

Keliphos felt something he never had before- he'd spent centuries tortured by his own father but nothing Astaroth had ever done truly chilled him to his core like being leveled a possibly disappointed glare from someone he'd called parent. "I um- I just wanted to ask her about mom for you." He muttered, sighing deep and pushing the leaves around on the ground with his foot.

"Mum? Who- what's going on here boys?" The queen asked, she'd been friends with them both for a long time but never thought they'd cross paths or have a goal in common.

"One of Astaroth's victims. You know he's my father Row, Tom knows too don't worry. We think he still has one of them. An angel? Ramiel? Do you know of him holding anyone down there?" Kells asked hopefully- so hopefully that he could feel nerves in his belly. A soft touch brushed his shoulder and he caught Tom dropping his hand when he looked over. Has he been trying to comfort him?

Rowena tilted her head, watching the two ancient beings together. There was a connection there she didn't understand but it wasn't her place to push. "I don't believe so but you know I don't like going anywhere near him." She explained, shaking her head. Astaroth had tried to make her one of his baby mothers as well but Kells had warned him off. She still believed that was part of the main reason the demon had bed her, his father wouldn't normally touch what he had. Though of course she could have protected herself. "I'll ask around though, check myself if I have to. If this angel is important to you both I want to help." She explained, smiling between them. "Now with that settled, tell me of this boy. It's not yours, is it Tom dear?"

Tom cleared his throat, giving a subtle shake of his head before answering. It was enough of an exchange that Kells narrowed his eyes but he wanted to trust the man he called Mitéra once. "He is the Hunter I took in, yes. I'm trying to keep him out of this as much as possible."

"Yeah and I'm getting well tired of it from boff you arseholes." Both Tom and Kells cringed at the human's voice and they shared a worried look before glancing behind them to find Dom standing there glaring at them. The kid was barely dressed, a pair of black briefs and open unlaced combat boots was all that protected him from the outside but the devil knew it was far more than he'd worn to bed. "'Ave ya jus' missed all the times I've bloody explained? Can ya not feel the bruises round ya neck from already being in trouble today? And you! Stop treating me like a child! I was already grown when we met, you can't fucking keep me out of shite." He growled at the witch next before pushing past both of them to greet Rowena.

"Hello love, you must be Dom. You have a little-" Row purred before licking her thumb and tracing his bottom lip. It came away red and Kells knew it was left over from when he fed the boy but when she sucked it clean he got nervous. "Oh my, quite the appetite I see. No matter, perfectly normal under the circumstances. No surprise you wish to keep him from the fight Tom dear, how long?"

The words were out before the hidden goddess could stop her but the mated pair just looked between them confused. "They've been together a little over a month." He tried to answer carefully, seeing what the Queen could feel out with her magic. He could find out a lot himself but his power was more focused on the earth. Rowena was better at feeling out people.

"Wha's tha' matter? Wha's going on? Ain't you 'ere about Ramiel?" Dom was still half asleep and easily grumpy. He didn't like being woken up because his boyfriend disappeared from his bed. He just wanted to curl up and get more sleep but no, of course not.

"You know of the curses?" Tom asked his friend and she nodded back, the two of them all but ignoring the others which just served to annoy them more.

"You know I summoned her right? Fuck are y'all talking about curses for? What does it matter-" Keliphos stopped short when he saw a small flash of Row's purple tinted magic head from her hand to his lover's belly. Too much started circling his mind, feelings he'd been having, things Tom had said, the way Dom was acting… but- "But that's impossible." Suddenly he felt almost woozy, his whole body flushed hot and sweaty and his head felt light. His stomach rolled so hard he had to step away from the others in case he got sick. There was no way. There was no fucking way. It was impossible.

Tom walked quickly to the halfling's side and he bent over with him. He had been terrified for that moment to happen until he understood everything that was going on but he couldn't take it back now. "Breathe. I've been trying to understand. I wasn't sure before. Please unders-" His words were cut off when the nephalem jumped him and suddenly his back was hitting the soft forest floor and his breath was cut off by the other man's hand.

"You fucking lied! You said you weren't hiding anything and you lied! You were going to let him fight like this? How dare you! How fucking-"

"KELLS! Get the fuck off 'im!" Dom shouted at his alpha. He'd never seen this side of him, his eyes were stormcloud bright and thunder was rolling in above them. He could feel electricity in the air that promised Col's wings were close to showing. "Wha' the fuck you doing? Tom's family! Stop!" He knew his man probably couldn't hurt his best friend but he was still scared to see them fight.

Tom's head hit the ground hard as Kells slammed him down, his fingers squeezing his throat until he felt something almost snap. "What if Astaroth sees him? What if he gets hurt? He's been feeding on me Tom! He's been hunting! How fucking dare you!" The witch didn't even fight back as if he felt like he deserved every word and bruise but in the next moment there was something on the devil's back and he pushed it off hard. When the pained noise he heard was in Dom's voice he felt reality crashing down around him. He pulled away from Tom as if he'd been burned and turned to see his mate on his ass in the dirt.

Dom watched his beast scramble off Tom while apologizing profusely before he crawled closer but he seemed almost scared to touch. "I'm sorry! Fuck I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" It took the human a moment to tell but he thought his monster might be crying.

"Everyone shut the fuck up! The next fing said better be an explanation. I'm exhausted, I'm starving, I feel like 'ell, I'm tired as fuck of being treated like I'm a breakable child, and now me arse 'urts. Don't bloody say it!" He snapped before Kells could make some comment like- 'and not in the fun way'. If he heard something like that he might actually explode.

Rowena stepped closer, her heels finding a way to click on the dirt as if they were spelled just to make her sound powerful. She crouched down next to him and laid a dainty hand on his shoulder. "Dear boy, don't you know already? Can't you feel it?" When he just shook his head she smiled softly. "You're pregnant."

Kells choked on a sob, he hadn't expected to feel so much more having the word said flat out but he felt almost human and powerless. An evil little voice whispered in his mind that it couldn't be his, he was cursed, but he knew Dom better than that. Something had happened and either his curse was broken or… there was no or. He'd promised the kid it wouldn't happen and yet…

"And you so upset you tried to kill Tom?" Dom's voice went flat, he knew he was overwhelmed but that still felt like an important reaction.

"No! Fuck. I was upset because he's obviously known and didn't tell you! He was going to let you go after Astaroth while you're- and it could hurt the- ya know." The devil sniffled. How many times could they fight in 24 hours? How many times could he be terrified to lose his mate?

"Say it. Say wha' you so pissed about. I thought you was upset about your curse but-" Before Dom could finish his statement Col was crawling close and shaking his head. He sat with his legs spread around the boy and he cupped his lover's face between his hands.

"No. Don't you dare. I'm not upset about- it. I'm upset that it could have been hurt. I'm upset that I accidentally lied to you! I don't want to do that. You're my mate Dom, I know how you felt about it and I never wanted to make you- until you were ready." There were actual tears beading down the devil's cheeks and he looked like the little boy he barely got to be.

"For what it's worth I was trying to learn everything I could before you decide to go after Astaroth. I wouldn't put my family at risk. You're correct though, I should have told you the moment I felt it. I apologize to you both. It shouldn't have been possible though, not with that curse. Unless…" Tom paused, taking a deep breath. "Unless the curse was only for your demonic side. If you haven't noticed Dom is bringing out the angel in you more than any of us thought possible. If that's the side of you that- mated him… perhaps he's able to break magic like that. I would not be surprised."

It was hard for Keliphos to trust that. It was hard for him to trust anything but he knew at least what he said about Dom was true. He'd knotted him. He knew he knotted him, and he knew that was his angel side. "How long?" He asked and watched Rowena lay a hand on what was his. He couldn't completely fight a growl but that more than anything made him realize how true it all was. How real.

"A month, I would say. Naughty boys." She purred and Dom blushed.

But… that would mean- "I fucking told you!" He huffed at his boyfriend and the demon tilted his head. "I told you tha' was our first time but you tried to say it didn't count!"

"You told me? Real mature babe. What are you, seven?" Kells huffed wetly. They could never completely stop bickering.

"And a 'alf. Bite me. Besides the Queen 'ere I fink I'm the only mature one. The two of yas are supposed to be ancient and ya act like bloody children! I need you to grow the fuck up Kells, and fast. We 'avin-"

"We're having a baby. I know. I get it. Shit." The devil blurted out before the human could say it. He needed to prove he could. What he didn't expect was Dom's eyes going wide and his heart starting to race. Maybe it wasn't just Kells having trouble coming to terms with it. "Babe?"

"We- I need- bed please?" Dom stuttered and his lover moved fast, standing and scooping him up in his arms like he was the child. Oh fuck.

Keliphos gave their friends a quick- "Later." before he was rushing his mate back inside. He didn't stop until they were safely tucked away in their bedroom with the door shut and them comfortably in bed. "Dom, you good?"

The Hunter snorted a laugh, that question felt absurd given the situation by at least making fun of his boyfriend made him feel more like himself. "Jus' wanted you alone." He sighed, straddling his devil's lap. "Is tha' why I'm so 'ungry for yas? Is tha' why we so…" He trailed off, hiding against Col's neck.

Kells laid his palms against Dom's ass though part of him wanted to be touching somewhere else. He wasn't sure either of them were ready for that shit. "I think that's just us. But yeah, maybe there's something about my blood that's good for it- them?" He shrugged but still got a nip for saying 'it'. "Dom please just- are you angry with me?"

The Hunter took a deep breath, letting that ozone scent relax him before he sat back and locked eyes with his lover. "I don't know if it's sunk in yet. But… we talked about it yeah? It's jus' a little sooner 'an someday." He laughed but fuck there were so many butterflies in his belly. "You?"

"Fuck no. I was just scared- I am scared. I don't know how to do this shit. But… I'm glad it's with you. I wouldn't want anyone else. Hey, c'mere?" He hummed until the boy smiled and pressed closer, those strong arms wrapping behind his neck. "I love you." He said it so simply, as if they'd been saying it for years instead of just the day. It felt that easy. Somehow.

"I love you too." Dominic grinned, kissing the idiot he found himself bred by. It certainly wasn't the answer to anything but it definitely helped them face everything. "Can I sleep? Can we deal wiv it tomorrow?" He whimpered against searching lips and the demon nodded, helping him out of his shoes before they got comfortable in bed. He rolled over because spooning was the most comfortable position for sleeping, not that the two of them cuddled. Of course not. He felt his alpha's hand trembling where it rested on his hip and kept moving closer. Closer. He let out a sleepy sigh and slotted himself against the nephalem, fitting like a puzzle piece against him. When the monster finally got enough courage and let his touch cover the boy's belly Dom hid a smile against the pillow. He knew that took a lot for his man, he wouldn't make it worse. "I love you." He heard his mate whisper but he didn't say it back, he wasn't exactly sure that one was for him anyway.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

This was a long one but I hope you all enjoy it! Surprise! Though I know the hints have been strong. It still seems like Tom is hiding something- what could it be? Will Dom be able to step back from the fight? Will they find Ramiel? Why was Dom able to break the curse? What will their child be? Keep reading to find out! Thank you so much 🖤⚰️

[zooophagous]

"So sorry I'm late." Artemis shuffled out of her blazer as she found her way to her side of the table. She always sat at the same side of the same table, Strauss seemed to prefer the location because of the window. It gave him something to look at when he didn't care to make eye contact.

He was using it now, starting listlessly out the window with his usual black coffee only barely tasted and settled between his folded claws, savoring the warmth of the mug. He looked up briefly and waved his hand in dismissal. "Do not apologize. An immortal has all the time in the world." He smirked.

"I got hung up in meetings. We're re-doing our entire security protocol for visitors. I didn't expect Troy's new boy friend to be around so much and we aren't really built for outside visitors."

"Does he know anything of what this place is?"

"Only what Troy has told him. Officially I guess this is an experimental hospital and both of you are patients with shiny new diseases that may or may not be super powers. It sounded a bit of an involved lie."

"Not really a lie though, is it."

"Depends on whether you classify these conditions as diseases." She shrugged. "But, that's not really what our meeting is about. I hope you're feeling well? I have some questions for you that are going to be uncomfortable."

"How do you know they are uncomfortable for me if you haven't told me what they are yet?"

"It's a topic you've been very avoidant about in the past. It has to do with your origins."

"Origins? I am a former doctor from Trier. I have been open about that."

"No. Your origins as a vampire. See? You're doing it again."

"Ah." He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Yes, that is a delicate subject."

"But it is one I very much want to know more about. I understand that this topic is upsetting, I won't make you keep going if you don't want to. If you need to skip a question, you can just say 'skip' and I'll move on to the next one, ok?" She poured herself a mug of coffee from the metal pot and began loading it with sugar and cream. "These are mostly yes or no questions, to make them easier to answer at first. I may ask you to elaborate on an answer. You may end the questioning at any time."

She sat down with a warm smile and folded her hands neatly in a mirror of his own pose. "If you humor me, I promise I'll get you into the research library, as agreed."

"About that, Frau Van Helsing." He pulled his gaze from the window and stared at her with unblinking eyes.

"I was wondering if it were possible to change the terms of our agreement, before we begin."

"How so?"

"Initially, I had asked for access to the research library, to be able to conduct my own personal research on vampire physiology at my liesure."

"Yes. What else did you want?"

"Well. I do not think you actually want my stories in exchange for that. What I mean is, I believe you would allow me into the library whether I cooperated or not, if I asked nicely. This means that it is not a worthwhile exchange to inflict pain onto my own psyche for it."

Artemis stifled a chuckle. "Well, Strauss, you're right. I wouldn't deny your request whether you cooperated tonight or not. You got me." She shrugged and splayed her hands out palms up. "Truth be told, everyone has the right to an education, and everyone deserves to know their own body. I have no good reason  to deny you that kind of reading."

Strauss smirked. He seemed to remember Troy mentioning that he was Artemis' 'favorite,' and he was beginning to believe it. "So, I request a more fair trade. I will share with you my most painful history, and in return, I request that you share yours."

She blinked in surprise. "Mine?"

"Yes. There is much I don't know about you. About this place. About your research project in general. I am of the opinion that much of my ignorance is by design." He sat up tall in his chair and looked at her coolly down his nose. "I should like to ask open questions about it and get honest answers. I will also do the same for you. We will have no secrets with each other."

She bit her lip. It was a hard bargain, but also not an unfair one. "That might be sort of a breach of the therapist-client relationship."

"I don't care." He replied slyly. "It is my offer. Or we can continue to make small talk. It is your choice."

"You know what, Strauss?" She tilted her head. "Fine. But the same rules of courtesy extend to me. Give me a heads up about what's coming, I'm allowed to skip questions, and I can stop at any time. Fair?"

"Of course. I enjoy our meetings and I want you to enjoy them as well. I do not want to find some sordid information to blackmail you or hold over your head, Frau Van Helsing." He reached his claw across the table to 'shake' on their agreement. "I only want to know you a little better. To know you as you know me."

"Alright. We can do that." She met his hand and gave it a firm shake. His spider-like appendage curled around her hand and held it, and lingered just a moment too long, and he let go and sat back content.

"Begin, then. I know you are eager to pelt me with questions."

"Yes. Ahem." She found herself back to her seat, looking ever so slightly flustered. "As I said earlier, these questions have to do with your origins as a vampire. They are yes or no questions, and I may ask you to elaborate. If you want to skip a question, just say 'skip.' First question."

She sipped her coffee and made determined eye contact with the creature that sat unblinking across from her. "You passed away and were buried at approximately 55 years of age."

"Yes."

"You were living alone at the time of death."

"Yes."

"You died in 1790, or thereabouts?"

"Yes."

"Ok. They start getting harder. When you became a vampire, were you bitten? Or did you become a vampire by other means?"

"That is not a yes or no question. But, if you must know, I was bitten, yes."

"And you consumed the blood of another vampire orally to complete the transformation?"

"...Yes."

"And did you become a vampire of your own free will?"

He paused. He finally broke his stare and glared out the window once more. A scowl tugged at his lips. "No."

"Can you tell me more?"

"Skip."

"Strauss."

"Why does it matter?" He snapped. "Why are all of you so damned obsessed with the night I died? I became a vampire and now I am here instead of collecting mold with my wife and daughter. That is all that is important."

She paused, taken aback at his sudden aggression. "Strauss. Luther." She reverted to his first name to hopefully snap him out of his mind frame for a moment. "I'm not asking these questions to torment you. It's important because we want to know more about how someone becomes what you are. Not just the biting and physical mechanic, the mindset too. We want to know if you sought it out. If you wanted it at any point, even if you regret it later. We want to know someone's motivations for doing so, or whether they're recruited, or lied to for it to happen. Or just forced."

He turned his head to look at her again. "I was murdered."

She drew in her breath sharply. Of course, no matter which way it happened, it was technically a murder. But she knew what he meant. "What happened to you?"

"I will start from the beginning. To give you the best idea of the condition of my mind at the time. I ask you in advance not..." He swallowed hard. "Not to judge me. And do not interrupt. It is a hard story to tell."

She sat quietly. "Go ahead. No judgment here."

He inhaled sharply and pushed his coffee cup away to nervously drum his fingers on the table. "I have told you before that I was once married. I had a wife, and together we had a single child, a daughter. My wife became ill with a sickness of the mind... she could no longer bear to be around myself, or the child, soon after her birth. She left us shortly before our daughter was a year of age.

I did nothing to stop her- please do not think that this was a cruelty on her part. Her ailment was one still poorly understood  by medicine today, and the treatment is only now in its infancy. At the time she stood no chance against it. For her own safety and happiness, I would not, could not force her to remain with me. I am, and I was, a difficult person to understand, and it was only with effort that she was able to meet me at my level. Effort she no longer had the strength for."

He rubbed and scratched as his neck and temples. "It was a hard blow, but it was not my fatal one. I was tasked with the raising of our daughter alone. It was difficult work, even with hired help. I was lucky to have the money to give her what I could. But I did not hate the work. In fact, child rearing came to me quite naturally."

He blinked heavily and stared very pointedly at the floor. "It was, despite everything, one of the happiest times of my life. I felt this little growing thing was one of the few beings in all the world who did not find it a chore to communicate with me. She had no unkindness for me. She was genuinely happy to see me, and I to see her. All she asked for were that her needs were met, and that when she spoke, someone paid attention. Her laugh made me laugh, and her smile made me smile. That small girl had more of my heart than I ever knew."

"And she became sick."

"Yes." He breathed heavily again. "Sick, deadly sick. For days and days she grew worse, suffering terribly, covered all over in rash and fever that refused to break, until finally it did, and her little body grew colder and colder and colder." He shook his head.

"I was more than broken. I was angry. I was furious. Furious at God, for allowing every prayer to go unanswered. Furious at myself for my failure as a physician, and furious at the concept of medicine as a whole. What good is the church or science or any doctor, if they cannot even help one little girl?" He dragged his nails along the table, leaving a deep groove in their wake.

"I wasn't entirely ignorant of the arcane at the time. I had a concept of it, as I'm sure all laypeople do, but I believed it all to be fake. However, it was the only thing remaining that I hadn't tried. There are no shortage of lying mediums who take your money in return for a concocted message from the so-called dead. They were not what I wanted. I was chasing resurrection. I wanted... I wanted..."

"You wanted immortality."

"Yes. I told you not to interrupt. But yes. I had failed utterly as a doctor. But there were mentions, whisperings of people who had cheated death. Those who had beaten it, and beaten it for years, for centuries even. What kind of doctor would leave a lead like that unexplored? I had a duty to at least try. Even if it could do nothing for my daughter, I could perhaps find a way to spare a similar heartache for my patients. I could find a way to save the next sick little girl. Once and for all."

He paused again. "Please do not judge me."

"I'm not, Strauss. Who did you go to?"

"It took many years of searching. I let my medical practice fall to the wayside. I became obsessed with this one, singular goal. If it was real, it would all be worth it. And finally I found them. It was not any one singular vampire I came to, but a group, a pack. I believe your lot refers to them as a 'coven.' At the time I believed them to be the saviors of mankind. I know now that they were cruel degenerates. Not only unsympathetic but actually malignant to the world as a whole. Interested in nothing more than their next bit of amusement, and I amused them very much."

He scowled deeply. "They told me they could show me the secrets of immortality quite easily, and that I would be able to impart the gift in turn. I didn't know, at the time, what a vampire was, or what it meant to become one. They gave me a demonstration. I was dragged into their house and into a dark room, where I was attacked and stabbed over and over. I believe I was bitten several times as well, but I am unsure. I only know that it hurt. I tried to fight for my life, but what is a man against a creature like that? Against a pack of creatures like that?"

Artemis sat quiet with her hand over her mouth. He continued. "I was brought carefully to the brink of death by bloodletting when one of them pressed their hand to my lips. They had cut open their palm, and demanded I taste it. "Drink! Drink!" They told me. "Drink it or die!" I was... afraid of death. More afraid of death than I was the unnatural horror in front of me. I know now it was a mistake. I did as I was told, and they laughed at me. After all of that, they laughed at me. I was left on the floor to finish bleeding, and I did, about an hour or so later. I tried to stand up and run away, but I was too weak."

"So what happened to you then? Do you remember any of the transformation itself?"

"No. The only mercy of this mechanism is that I was not conscious for any part of it. I must have been discovered, or else left where someone who knew me could find me, for I was buried with my name in the family plot near my daughter. I regained consciousness underground, and I began to panic, but I found the lid to my prison lifted easily, despite the fact that it was stone and weighed several times what I did. It was obvious right away that something had changed. The first thing I noticed was that I could somehow, even at a distance, hear every heartbeat in the chest of every passer-by. But I could not hear my own."

"Did you ever go back? Confront them?"

"I tried. There was nothing I could do to take vengeance for myself, they were stronger than I was even then, and I was outnumbered. They would only tell me that... that I got what I had asked for, and there was nothing they could do to take it back. I asked what I should do, and they would only show me their fangs and tell me that I 'knew' what I needed to do. I understand now that they meant I was to be a predator of humankind. What I needed to do was feed."

"And they didn't offer to help you?"

"I never returned to them, I hated them as much as I was afraid of them, even then. I carved a living for myself in the graveyard as best I could. I would not ask them for any guidance. Not if it meant living the way they did. I had followed this idiotic venture to help people, not to murder them, and I wasn't about to start now. Not just because I was sad or hungry. I would sooner destroy myself. It was meant to be in the name of medicine, in the name of a little girl whose father loved her very much. I wouldn't dirty her name by attaching it to that."

"I see. Where are they now? Do you know?"

"Their condition is unknown. The house they had made their den in burned down one evening. It was deliberately set, and a crowd of people watched to ensure nothing came out. I was not involved in the arson- I hated them, but I was still no murderer. Not even for a wretch such as they. I heard screaming from within the depths of the crumbling embers but there is no way of knowing if any of them escaped. There were perhaps a dozen occupants, but I could only make out the screams of two or three. It is possible the others are still out there. For all of our sakes, I hope not."

Artemis reached across the table to touch his hand. He flinched, but then returned the gesture and held her hand for comfort.

"That was a lot of information. Thank you for being so open with me, Strauss. I don't think anyone would judge you for that story. Grief is a powerful motivator. Certainly a better one than... I don't know, a lust for power or something."

"Maybe I do lust for power. You don't know." He smirked, though it was more an effort to contain tears.

"There's just one more question for you."

"Go ahead."

"You always refer to her as 'my daughter' but never by her name. What is her name?"

He finally allowed a tear to fall.

"Hanna. Her name is Hanna."