#Tw MiA family member

[idontknowreallywhy]

1 - Presence

I’m pretty sure that the more determined I am to sit and write something fluffy in a spare moment, the more angsty it comes out. This morning I was going to write some nice earth and sky but smashed the Virg instead…

And so we have some Virgil post Scott’s going MIA because that’s clearly where the fluff lies. It’s a slightly weird idea and I maybe have fallen off the mixed metaphor cliffedge here, but sensory stuff fascinates me so…

Err… I’m sorry?

In mitigation I might have an idea for a follow up scene when Scott is finally back…

(Not well proofed, thrown down in a coffee break)

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

It was an unexpected thing that finally broke Virgil:

The smell of washing powder.

An odour none of them ever noticed, because it was everywhere. A background chord running through all the linen in the place, over which all the other scents of the household were layered like a complex symphony. Until some of those more discordant scents became too loud and overpowering at which point the item was laundered, and a new score was opened beginning only with that familiar chord as a canvas.

By unspoken agreement, his room remained as he’d left it. Perhaps none of them had truly accepted he wouldn’t return to fill it with life again. Perhaps it just wasn’t necessary to thrust the knives of practicality into that particular wound yet… they weren’t short of space at the ranch.

Virgil would visit, once or twice a week, usually late at night when the effort of holding everything and everyone together had drained the last drop of his resolve and he needed to renew his vow to his big brother.

It required preparation though. He would shower, thoroughly, using a fragrance free soap he had ordered especially. Only when he was positive that all traces of his own cologne, hair products, coffee, his own smell were washed away would he open the door. He didn’t want to add anything to the faint music that persisted inside.

The bed had only been slept in three nights, on that brief visit home before he was deployed for the last time and so nobody had thought it worth stripping the sheets and laundering them. There was a light gloss of super-shiny gel on the pillow and the quiet but unmistakeable melody of his brother lingered.

The blue fluffy dressing gown on the back of the door had been worn longer and played the more powerful tune of his cologne, with a harmony of pancake batter, coffee and, on one cuff, a hint of whisky from the evening he and Virgil had sat on the back porch exchanging dad jokes and Scott had laughed so hard he’d sloshed his drink all over his hand.

He would check everyone else was asleep, then slip to his brother’s door, enter quietly and reverently remove the robe from its hook to wrap around his shoulders, lifting the outsized hood to cover his head. The intense familiarity was always a shock and so he’d stand there for a moment, surrounded by his brother’s song to catch his breath. Then, slowly he would kneel by the side of the bed, his face resting on the edge of the pillow and he would rest for a while and imagine his big brother’s arms around him. He could almost feel Scott’s forehead pressed against his own, or maybe his cheek resting on the top of his head. He’d promise again that he would look after the others. He’d be big brother as long as he had strength left in his body. And somehow, some strength would return. He’d made it through nearly three months now. He could keep going. He could do it for Scott.

He couldn’t linger there for too long. He couldn’t fall asleep here, couldn’t risk a sweaty nightmare eradicating all he had left.

He’d replace the robe and close the door, sneak back down the hallway and return to his own room. Then, and only then, could he allow the tears to fall.

One night he missed a step.

He didn’t check on the others. Maybe he also messed up the stealth part as he was jolted out of his bedside reverie by his youngest brother’s gasp:

“Scotty??!!”

He spun to face the doorway and was able to see Alan’s heart break all over again as the wrong brother looked out from under the hood.

That had been a long night. He’d done his best to explain what he’d been doing and held back his tears as he confessed he didn’t think Scott would come back as a ghost to visit them. He held the devastated child as they both wept and lay awake until the birds signalled another day to survive through was moments away from dawning.

He’d thought little more of it until one evening, well after the kid’s bedtime, Alan burst into the kitchen in a terrible panic and seized grandma by the hand, dragging her upstairs. Curious, Virgil followed and paused at the top of the stairs as he heard Grandma’s low comforting voice interspersed with hiccuppy sobs. They were coming from Scott’s room.

Virgil peered around the half open door to see his grandmother and brother crouched together on the floor, Alan clutching his empty hot chocolate mug and sobbing his heart out. He caught grandma’s eye and she indicated with a look that she had things under control. She’d handle this. He wasn’t needed this time. Virgil nodded and was about to back out when his gaze fell on the bed. And Scott’s robe in a heap by the pillows. And the marshmallows on that robe, surrounded by a spreading brown stain.

Virgil lied and said he had a migraine the following day. He shouldn’t be angry with an 8 year old for wanting to drink his bedtime cocoa with the ghost of his big brother. But he was. Because he, Virgil, was a terrible big brother. Scott wouldn’t have been angry. He’d have laughed and said it was cute and ruffled Allie’s hair and that was why Scott should still be here and Virgil couldn’t do this. They left his food outside the door, with a little get well soon card drawn in a rare fit of cooperation by Gordon and Alan. Alan had surrounded his name in hearts and kisses. He didn’t deserve it.

Late that night, after his usual shower he crept back along the corridor to Scott’s room, quietly opened the door and shut himself inside. Grandma had, indeed, handled it. The bed was neatly made again with freshly laundered sheets and the robe was hung back on its hook, fluffier than ever from the dryer. A new score was opened, only the starting chord could be heard.

Virgil took a deep breath in through his nose and tears filled his eyes.

He was gone.

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(Ok I do need to TBC it as I can’t leave him like that… I’ll fix it I promise)

update: Part 2 “Absence” is here

[paperbakc]

The thing about being the subject of unwanted sexual attention *cough* incest, molestation, sexual bullying from entire groups of classmates *cough* from early teenage years gives you a weirdly solid confidence in getting around your work done with influencing your body when and as subtly needed. I've dated 4 people as a minor and as an 18 year old I'm 100% confident I'll be the hottest ex they ever could dream of having if I work on my body for a month tops after exams.

Talk about silver lining huh? I used to hate my body but not anymore bby ;) I was too hot as a child for my full fledged adult older brothers to resist getting a piece of so haha random same aged ex-admirers are nothing!

B)))

[starsenha]

[16] FIRST IMPRESSSIONS - care to test that theory

synopsis: riki was a big fan of your group Devilish, but when he met you for the first time, he made a very bad first impression and now you hated him. rumors started to spark saying how you hated each other and to calm the rumors, the company decided to make you two hosts a variety show together for two months. wc: 5,7k tw: neck kisses, petnames, semi-public sex, bits of dry humping, dom!riki x sub!fem!reader, fingering, bigdick!riki, degradation, unprotected sex (please wrap it up), kinda down bad!riki, breast play, creampie, slight aftercare a/n: hi my loves, sorry i was mia for a few days i was visiting my family hihi, but I'm back! so I'll take back the update days for first impressions and teacher's pet!

"You're gripping like a fucking emotional support animal," Jongseob teased, looking back at you as your hand clutched his sleeve tightly. 

The after-party was at the same location you had filmed in the previous episode, and the familiarity with it all just eased your nerves. You could hear your heart pounding in your chest, why were you so nervous? 

"Relax. It's just a party." 

"It's not just a party," you hissed under your breath. "Everyone's here, watching, talking. What if I make a fool out of myself? Or I-" 

"Stare too much at your co-mc?" Jongseob, interrupted, a smirk tugging at his lips and his eyebrow raised. 

You shot him a glare. "Don't start." 

As you made your way further into the room, your eyes scanned the room. And then you saw him. Riki was standing near a group of crew members, a drink in one hand and laughing at something someone said. He was dressed casually, but he still looked so hot. But then again, when didn't he look hot, you thought. 

His eyes locked on yours, and you could see them light up. he waved at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He actually looked happy to see you, and somehow, it made everything worse. 

You froze for a split second, feeling your heartbeat kick into overdrive. "Oh no," you muttered, gripping Jongseob's sleeve tighter. "Abort mission. Distract me or something." 

He chuckled. "Distract you? From what? You've been caught, he's looking right at you." 

"Exactly!" you hissed. "That's the problem. Do something." 

Jongseob leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a playful whisper. “You want me to shield you from the guy you’ve been awkwardly falling for during rehearsals? Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

“Seobie,” you warned, your tone sharp, though your cheeks were flushing. “I will ruin your life.”

“Okay, okay,” Jongseob said, holding his hands in mock surrender. "Let's get snacks or something. I’ll save you from the big, bad, ridiculously good-looking dancer.”

The thing is, it's not you were avoiding riki per say. But thing had definitely been a bit awkward between you two since that choreo. But then again, that was maybe only in your head. And judging by the way he waved at you a few minutes earlier, you could tell this wasn't awkward for him at all. 

Since that chore, you became hyper-aware of how hot it was. And it was a problem. You couldn't date, especially not one of the most popular kpop idols at the moment. So you couldn't be attracted to him. But the more you tried to block it, the more you actually thought about him. And that was a problem. He was a problem. 

Jongseob led you to the food table, your head closed as you bantered. You leaned against each other casually, laughing at a joke he made. From across the room, Riki's gaze flickered to you. His smile faltered ever so slightly as he watched Jongseob rest his hand on your shoulder while you leaned against him. 

"Who's the guy Yn brought?" one of the crew members near Riki asked. 

"Oh, that's Jongseob from P1Harmony. He's her friend," Riki replied casually, though his jaw tightened slightly. "They're pretty close." 

"Looks like it," the guy said with a chuckle. 

Riki took a sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing as he watched Jongseob playfully nudge your arm. Too close, he thought.

As you and Jongseob were grabbing a plate of snacks, you felt a presence behinf you.  Turning slightly, you found Riki standing there, his usual confident grin in place. 

"Hey," he said, his voice smooth. Oh no. "Nice to see you here." 

You blinked, feeling your heart slip a beat. "Oh, hey. You too," you tried to sound calm, but your voice wavered slightly. 

Your best friend, who was still standing close just in case, raised an eyebrow at the awkward interaction. "Riki, right? He said, extending a hand. "I’m Jongseob." 

“I know,” Riki said, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “You’re Yn’s friend, right?”

“Best friend,” Jongseob corrected, his tone playful but pointed. “We go way back.”

“Ah,” Riki replied, his smile tightening. “Nice. You two seem… close.”

You stepped in quickly, sensing the shift in tone. “Yeah, we are,” you said, laughing nervously. “Jongseob’s like a brother to me.”

“Brother,” Riki echoed, glancing at the way Jongseob casually leaned against you. “Right.”

As the three of you stood there, the tension became palpable. Riki’s gaze lingered on how you and Jongseob interacted—the easy laughs, the subtle touches, the way you seemed completely at ease with him. Must be nice, he thought. 

“So,” Riki said, leaning in slightly, his voice smooth but carrying an edge, “are you enjoying the party?”

“It’s nice,” you replied, avoiding his eyes. “Everyone seems really happy with how the show’s going.”

“They should be,” Riki said, his gaze steady on you. “You’ve been doing amazing. Especially with… our duet.”

Your face flushed, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your plate. “Thanks. You too.”

“Yeah, that duet was something else,” Jongseob chimed in, clearly amusing by the awkwardness. “The chemistry was… thick.”

“Seob,” you hissed, elbowing him.

Riki’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Chemistry? I guess that’s one way to put it.”

———————————————

You and Jongseob stood in a small circle of crew members, casually chatting about the show and laughing at a few light-hearted jokes. You definitely had been more relaxed because of your best friend by your side, and you ere hontesly glad he came with. 

“I’m gonna grab something to drink,” you said to Jongseob, stepping away from the conversation.

Before you could leave, Jongseob grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, giving you a pointed look. “Don’t drink too much,” he said in a low, mock-serious voice, his lips twitching into a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hand free. “I’m not you, Seobie. I can handle myself.”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, crossing his arms as he watched you go. “Just remember, I’m your ride home.”

You waved him off, muttering, “Whatever,” as you made your way to the bar.

From across the room, Riki caught the entire interaction. His eyes narrowed as he watched Jongseob’s hand linger on your wrist and the way you smiled as you rolled your eyes. The ease and familiarity between you gnawed at him, and before he could think twice, his feet were already carrying him toward the bar.

You leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender to hand you a sparkling water. You drummed your fingers on the surface, lost in thought, when Riki appeared beside you, startling you slightly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I’ve been waiting to catch you alone.”

Your fingers stilled, and you glanced at him briefly before looking away, focusing intently on you drink that was placed in front of you. “Oh? Why’s that, Riki?”

Riki tilted his head, his gaze burning into you. “Why do you think?”

You tensed, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe because you enjoy interrupting my peace.”

“Or,” Riki said, stepping closer, his tone dripping with something unreadable, “maybe because I wanted to talk about what’s been going on.”

You finally turned to him, your expression guarded. “What’s ‘going on’ exactly?” you asked, your voice cool.

Riki raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slight smirk. “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb.”

Riki glanced back toward where Jongseob was still standing, laughing with the crew members. “You and Jongseob,” he said, his voice tinged with something darker. “You’re… close.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the statement. “Of course we’re close. He’s my best friend.”

Riki’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering back to you. “Does he always grab your wrist like that?”

Your eyes widened slightly before narrowing. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

Riki shrugged, but his smirk was gone. “Should I be?”

“Of Jongseob?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Riki admitted, leaning in just enough to make your pulse race. “But I’ve noticed you haven’t been able to look me in the eyes since our last rehearsal. What’s that about?”

Your breath hitched, and you quickly glanced around the room. “Keep your voice down,” you hissed. “People might hear you.”

“So?” Riki replied, his voice soft but insistent. “What are they gonna hear? That we almost kissed? That you’ve been avoiding me ever since?”

Your face flushed, and you grabbed your drink, muttering, “Not here.”

“Where then?” Riki asked, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and challenge. “Lead the way.”

You led Riki through the quieter part of the studio lot, your heels clicking against the pavement as you brought them to the shadowed space behind the trailers. The air was cooler here, and the muffled sounds of the party faded into the background.

“Okay,” you said sharply. “Talk. What do you want to say?”

Riki leaned casually against the trailer, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze piercing. “You’re the one who wanted to talk,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But you’re the one who hasn’t been able to look me in the eyes since… well, you know.”

You flushed, though you quickly masked it with a scoff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Riki raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, really? So the avoiding me in rehearsals, the sudden ‘I need to leave’ moments, and the way you’re currently pretending I’m not standing right in front of you—that’s all just coincidence?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said defensively, though your voice wavered slightly.

“Uh-huh,” Riki said, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer to you. His tone turned teasing, his smirk widening. “You’re blushing, Yn.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks despite your denial.

“You are,” Riki countered, leaning slightly closer. “Fuck, it's cute.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, but you quickly rolled your eyes to cover your reaction. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you muttered. “It’s just… warm out here.”

Riki chuckled softly, his voice dropping a note. “Sure it is.”

Trying to regain control of the situation, you straightened your posture and met his gaze head-on, though the effort made your heart race. “Whatever you’re thinking, Riki, just stop. That almost kiss? It didn’t mean anything. Our chemistry is just because we’re great dancers. That’s it.”

“Is that what you really think?” Riki asked, his tone amused but curious.

“It’s the truth,” you said firmly, though the words felt weak even to your own ears.

Riki smirked, taking another step closer until the space between you was almost nonexistent. “Care to test that little theory?”

You blinked, your breath hitching slightly as you instinctively stepped back, only to feel the cool surface of the trailer against your spine. “Riki,” you said, your voice wavering.

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached out to gently lift your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look at him. The heat of his touch sent a jolt through you, and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Admit it,” he said softly, his smirk widening. “There’s something here.”

“There’s nothing here,” you said quickly, though the slight tremble in your voice betrayed you. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Riki murmured, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your cheek. “Then why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not—” you started, but the words got caught in your throat as his lips quirked into a knowing smile. “What are you doing?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as Riki leaned even closer, his face mere inches from yours.

“Just testing something,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you could respond, his lips brushed against yours softly, tentatively, as if giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you froze, your breath hitching as the heat pooled low in your belly, overwhelming every other thought.

Riki took the lack of resistance as permission, deepening the kiss slowly. His lips moved against yours, slow and sensual. He brought his other hand up to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly as he pressed closer, his body heat radiating against her own.

Your hands, which had been pressed against the trailer behind you, hesitated before instinctively grabbing the front of his shirt for balance. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into the kiss instead.

Riki pulled back slightly, just enough to whisper against your lips, “Still think it doesn’t mean anything?”

Your heart raced. His voice was soft and teasing, but the look in his eyes was anything but. You could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Shut up,” you muttered, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking him down into a kiss.

This time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was rough, almost desperate, as if you had both been holding back for far too long. Riki froze for a split second, surprised before he let out a low growl and kissed you back with even more intensity.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed you firmly against the wall of the trailer. You gasped against his lips, your grip tightening on his shirt as his body pressed into yours.

Riki tilted your chin slightly to deepen the kiss, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “So fucking stubborn,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and breathless.

“Shut up,” you whispered again, though your voice trembled with emotion.

Riki smirked against your mouth, clearly enjoying your loss of composure. His hands slid to your hips, gripping them tightly as he kissed you harder, rougher. He nipped at your lower lip, earning a soft gasp from you that sent a jolt of satisfaction through him.

Without breaking the kiss, Riki reached behind you, fumbling for the handle of the trailer door. The door creaked open, and he guided you inside, his lips never leaving yours. You stumbled slightly, but Riki’s hands were firm on your waist, steadying you as you moved further into the dimly lit space.

The door swung shut behind you with a soft click, isolating you from the noise of the party outside. Your back hit the wall of the trailer, and Riki leaned into you, his hands braced on either side of your head. His lips traveled down to your jawline, pressing rough, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

“Riki,” you whispered, your voice shaky but urgent, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he muttered against your neck, his voice low and gravelly.

His hands slid down your sides, settling on your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You let out a soft whimper, your body responding instinctively to the way his hands gripped you, the way his lips moved against your skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling slightly, which only spurred him on. 

Without a word, Riki’s hands slid to your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifted you effortlessly and set you on the small table behind you. Your breath hitched as your back met the cool surface, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating between you.

“You’re so easy to handle,” Riki murmured against your lips, his voice low and teasing. “Like putty in my hands.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tried to glare at him, but your resolve crumbled when his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the table. “Shut up,” you muttered, you voice breathless.

“Shut up?” Riki repeated with a smirk, pulling back just enough to look at you. His dark eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and desire. “Is that all the words you know now, princess?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name, and you hated how much it affected you. “Don’t call me that,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt.

“Why not?” he teased, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself. Aren’t you, baby?”

Your breath hitched again, and you felt a whine escape your throat before she could stop it. Riki stilled for a moment, his smirk growing into a full grin. “Oh,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You’re needy, aren’t you?”

“Riki,” you said, your voice a mix of frustration and desire, as you tried to pull him back into another kiss.

But Riki was having none of it. He pulled back slightly, just enough to make you whine again, his hands still gripping your thighs firmly. “Say it,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Say you like it when I call you that.”

You bit your lip, your head spinning as you tried to regain some semblance of control. “I’m not—”

“You’re not what?” Riki interrupted, leaning in so his lips were just a breath away from yours. “Not enjoying this? Because you’re making it pretty obvious, princess.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and despite yourself, she let out a small, needy moan. His hands tightened on your thighs, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was rougher, more consuming than before. You melted against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” Riki murmured against your lips, his tone dripping with amusement. “Like I can do whatever I want with you.”

“Riki,” you said again, your voice softer now, almost pleading.

“What is it, baby?” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “Tell me what you want.”

Your face burned, your mind a haze of want and frustration. “Stop talking,” you muttered, pulling him back into another desperate kiss.

Riki chuckled against your lips, but he obliged, letting his actions speak louder than words. His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm yet teasing as if he was determined to make you fall apart completely. You felt yourself giving in entirely, your earlier resolve crumbling.

Riki pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. “Admit it,” he said, his voice low and teasing. "Just tell me you want me as much as I want you right now."

You didn’t respond, but the way your fingers tightened in his shirt and the way your breath hitched told him everything he needed to know.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips, and the words sent another shiver down her spine.

You were so overwhelmed. You clung to him as if you needed that to stay grounded. Your head tilted back slightly when his lips trailed down to your jawline once again. You moaned, and he smirked against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. You shivered, your grip tightening on him as his teeth grazed your skin. He bit down lightly, enough to make you gasp but not enough to leave a mark.

“Careful,” you managed to say, though your voice was breathless and shaky. “Don’t leave—”

“I know,” Riki interrupted, his lips brushing against the spot he’d just bitten. “Wouldn’t want anyone else knowing what I’ve done to you.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his smirk widening as he saw your flushed face and half-lidded eyes. “Though, honestly? I wouldn’t mind.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to glare at him, but it lacked any real conviction.

Riki chuckled, his hands sliding to her waist as he leaned closer again. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you actually want me to.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his lips found your neck again, this time pressing a kiss just beneath your ear. Your head tilted instinctively, and you felt you body betray you, leaning into his touch.

“That’s what I thought,” Riki murmured against your skin. “You like this too much to want me to stop.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” You managed to say, though your voice trembled.

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone playful but tinged with something darker. “But I’m not wrong, am I?” His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the table, flush against him. “Look at you. You’re putty in my hands.”

Your face burned at his words, and you tried to find something—anything—to say that would give you back even a shred of control.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said, his voice softer now, though the teasing lilt remained. “Especially like this.”

Your breath hitched, and you hated how much your body reacted to his words. “Stop saying things like that,” you said weakly, turning your face away to avoid his gaze.

Riki gently cupped your chin, tilting your face back toward him. “Why?” he asked, his tone light but challenging. “Does it make you nervous? Or…” He leaned in slightly, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Do you like it too much, perhaps?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you struggled to keep your composure. “I hate you.”

“Sure,” Riki said, his smirk widening. “Keep telling yourself that, even if we both know it's not true.”

You didn’t respond—you couldn’t. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and the way his hands gripped your waist and the heat of his breath against your skin made it impossible to think clearly.

“You’re so quiet now,” Riki teased, brushing his lips against yours lightly, barely a touch. “Where’s all that fire from earlier? Hm?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the whine that threatened to escape your throat. Your body betrayed you again, leaning into him, and you felt the heat pooling low in your belly grow even stronger.

“Look at you,” Riki murmured, his voice low and filled with a mix of amusement and desire. “So needy. And I haven't even touched you yet."

You crashed your lips against his, your resolve crumbling completely. Fuck it. He let out a low growl, kissing you back. His hand find your lower back and he pushed your hips flushed against his. You could feel how hard he was underneath his jeans, and that alone made you whimpered.

You sighed contently, your hands tangling in his hair. He forced his tongue your mouth, tangling yours with his as his hand kneaded at your thigh. He tentatively bucked his hips against yours and you let out a moan. He smirked and did it again, eventually starting to grind his clothes dick against you.

His other hand gripped your hair, tilting your head back so he could nip and kiss at your neck while he continued to ground against you, rock hard. "So perfect," he whispered against your skin.

"Just fuck me already," you whined, surprising even yourself. What just took over you for you to say something like that to your co-mc, in the fucking trailer?

But to your surprise, Riki groaned against your skin, his hand immediately groped your clothed cunt as his lips went against your ear. "Fuck, so needy. Your lucky we don't have much time, or I'd ruin that pretty little mouth of yours with my cock."

You moaned at that, grinding shamelessly against his hand. Riki chuckled and quickly undid your jeans buttons and hooked his gingers in your waistband, yanking down your pants and underwear all at once. He parted your fold with his pointed finger, humming appreciatively.

"You're drenched, baby," he whispered against your ear. Then suddenly, wasting no time, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them up. You yelped. "I know, I know. But I have to work you open before you can take my cock, and we don't have time."

You moaned as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You bit your lip hard, knowing you could let any loud sounds out, but the way his long fingers pumped in and out felt so good you almost moaned louder.

He could feel you getting even wetter around his fingers, but he knew it wasn't enough. He added a third finger, knuckles deep, hitting your sweet spot over and over.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, tears prickling at your eyes from pleasure as your gripped the table so hard your knuckles were turning white.

He kept scissoring you open, hitting deep thrust with his fingers, his thumb presing against your clit, rubbing circled around it. Your vision started to blur. "Fuck, look at you baby. Taking my fingers so well."

You bucked your hips against his hand, your walls already clenching around his fingers. His fingers stilled for a moment, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers, and he could only think about how good you'll feel around his cock. "God," He muttered before leaning close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered roughly, "Already so desperate for my cock, aren't you?"

You had no shame left, and you don't know what happened between earlier and now, but your mind was fuzzy and dizzy. You just nodded desperately, bucking your hips again to make him move.

He chuckled lowly, and pulled his fingers out abruptly. He couldn't deny his throbbing cock in his pants any longer, or the zipper might rip. You whimpered at the loss of contact, your skin covered with sweat. He immediately unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion. "Please, tell me you're on the pill."

You nodded and he exhaled, "Thank God," he muttered, grabbing your thighs and opening them further, positioning himself between your legs. You both hissed when he pushed the head inside you. His eyes fluttered shut, and he took a deep breath. You felt so good, he thought he could almost come right here and there.

He pushed inside, inch by inch, and you felt every vein of his shaft. Your head was thrown back in pleasure, and you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back. after felt like forever, he bottomed out. he had to brace himself, his hands on either side of your hips on the table, as his lips placed soft kisses to your cleavage.

He gave you a bit of time to adjust to his size, but when you put your hand on his shoulder, he lifted his head to look at you. Your lips were swollen and red, your hair disheveled and your cheeks flushed, and it was the most beautiful and hottest sight he's ever seen. You nodded slowly, informing him you were ready.

He let his instincts take control then. He grabbed your hip, hard enough to leave marks, before pulling out almost all the way and thrusting back hard. You had to muffle your moans with your hand as he set a ruthless pace, his thrusts hard and fast. "Fuck, you're so tight,"

With his hard rhythm, your breath was bouncing underneath his shirt. He quickly put it off your body alongside his shirt and jacket, throwing them carelessly on the floor. It was so risky, but you were both so gone you didn't care anymore. he squeezed and pinched your nipples as he continued to pound into you. "Look at those perfect tits, damn."

You were crying out into your hand, and the sight almost broke him. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, hooking them over his elbow and pulled one of your leg up so he could go deeper, the new angle making you see stars, eyes rolling back.

He leaned so he could bite your neck, still careful not to leave any marks, because one he knew you'd kill him, though you were so gone right now he knew he could do whatever he wanted. and second, because your stylist and manager would probably kill you, and he couldn't let you get in troubles because of him.

Your walls tighten around him, gripping him like a vice and he cursed under his breath. "Shit, I'm gonna come if you keep squeezing me like that," he said breathlessly.

You could only moan against your mouth at his words, your mind filled with pleasure and already gone. He replaced your hand with his, clamping it down on your mouth, as he smirked when you moaned against his mouth. His thrust became erratic, his free hand digging into your hip. "That's right, baby," he whispered in your ear. "Can't even think straight right now, can you?"

Your brain was getting fuzzy as your walls clenched around him so hard he could hardly move. You looked at him, eyes glossy with tears. He cursed loudly and his thrust became uncoordinated.

You came hard around him, your face contorted in pleasure as you let out a broken moan. Your eyes rolled back, your back arching, and drooling against his hand, this was the most beautiful sight he's ever witnessed. The look of pure bliss on your face was one he would never forget and would engrave in his memory forever.

He burried his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his own groans and he felt tipping closer over the edge. He was gonna pull out, but your legs wrapped against his waist. He looked into your eyes and when you nodded, he came inside you with a low moan.

You were both panting, and he was still burried inside you. The trailer was silent except for your heavy breathing. You leaned back against the table, your cheeks flushed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Riki stood in front of you, his hands resting on the edge of the table on either side of your hips, trapping her in place. His hair was disheveled, and his skin flushed and sweaty.

You both stared at each other for a moment, the weight of what had just happened settling between you. Your lips were still slightly swollen, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of emotions—confusion, panic, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Riki, on the other hand, looked more composed. He straightened up slightly, carefully pulling out, running a hand through his hair as he tried to catch his breath. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and filled with concern.

You nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she said, though your voice wavered slightly.

“Here,” Riki said, grabbing a tissue from a nearby box and cleaning you up before passing you your disheveled clothes. He was so gentle when he cleaned you up, and he also cleaned the table since some of the mix of both of your cum fell onto it.

You then both got dressed silently. When you were both dressed, Riki grabbed another tissue and stepped closer, his fingers brushing against your chin as he gently wiped a smudge of makeup from your cheek. “Hold still,” he murmured, his tone softer than before.

You froze under his touch, your heart pounding again—not from what had just happened, but from the tenderness in his gesture. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Riki interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he focused on the task at hand. “You look… shaken up. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I said I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your cheeks burned under his gaze.

Riki stepped back slightly, giving you space as he nodded. “Okay. But if you’re not… you can tell me.”

You glanced at him briefly, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “I know,” she said softly.

As he leaned against the table, clearly trying to find the right words to say, your phone buzzed loudly on the counter where you'd left it earlier. The sudden sound made both of you jump slightly.

You grabbed it quickly, your fingers fumbling as you unlocked the screen. Your heart sank when you saw the text from Jongseob.

[Jongseob] I don't know where the fuck are you, but I have to go home. Early photoshoot tomorrow. Your manager's on his way to pick you up. Call me when you can.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes widening as you quickly typed a response.

Riki tilted his head, watching you with a mix of curiosity and concern. “What is it?”

“It’s Jongseob,” you said, your voice clipped. You shoved your phone into your pocket and straightened your shirt hastily. “He left already. I need to go.”

“Wait,” Riki said, stepping in front of you to block your path. “Can we… talk about this first?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you replied quickly, your tone sharper than you intended. You avoided his gaze as you grabbed your bag from the chair nearby.

“Nothing to talk about?” Riki repeated, his tone incredulous. “Yn, we just—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your voice quieter now, though the urgency was still there. “It was a mistake, and it can't happen again. I'll...I'll see you later.”

Before Riki could say another word, you brushed past him and slipped out of the trailer, leaving him standing alone in the dimly lit space. The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.

He let out a long breath, raking a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the table. His mind raced with everything that had just happened, and the way you had left so abruptly only added to the confusion swirling in his chest.

“Of course she’d run,” he muttered to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he stared at the closed door. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He grabbed a tissue from the box and wiped his hands absently, his gaze unfocused. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you—something he wasn’t sure could ever go back to the way it was.

Outside the trailer, you leaned against it, trying to catch your breath as you could hardly feel your legs. "What the hell just happened?" you whispered to yourself.

previous / m.list / next

TAGLIST: @pkjay @d-dilemma @heartheejake @lunaritex @dreeki @inishij @rikirritated @whoiss4m @sleepyxxhead @aanniikkaa @right-person-wrong-time @aespaqq @starry-eyed-bimbo @nerdywitchcrown @yuniesluv @lovestruck-sky @ariluvssssss100 @rei4sunoo @wildtigerlili @jakef3ver @seungminsapuppy @kittsnewera @regalfox @rairaiblog @pairinnn

[charlesslut16]

yn being nervous to meet Carlos family for the first time because she never had a good relationship with her family

-you are family now-

summary : pistanthrophobica : fear of trusting people due past experiences with relationships gone bad : y/n is nervous to meet carlos family

PAIRING : carlos sainz x fem!reader

WARNINGS : a bad relationship with family, anxiety, insecurity

note : CARLOS IS ON THE FIRST PLACE ON THE PODIUM!!!! I FEPEAT : CARLOS IS ON THE PIRST PLACE ON THE PODIUM! I'm SO proud of him!

masterlist 

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

Today was the day. The day you would meet carlos's family. Carlos was so happy that you had agreed to meet them. If you said that you were nervous, it would be an understatement. 

The relationship between your family and you was, you could say, bumpy. You had never gotten the support and love from your family. They always had something better to do. You were never a priority. 

The child that had to play alone because her family was never there for her. No one of your family was there. With 18, you had, finally, decided to leave and build your life without them.

And now you were sitting in carlos's car driving to his parents' house to meet his family. The whole car ride, you were in your thoughts. Playing with your hands and bouncing with your leg.

Carlos being carlos, he noticed instantly that there was something going on. He laid his hand on your thigh to calm you down and distract you, as he knew that you were deep in your head.

“Cara mia, what's wrong?” Carlos asked with concern laced in his voice, while running his hand up and down your thigh. He wanted you to be happy and comfortable. My beloved.

You hadn't even heard his question, too deep in your thoughts. But minutes later, Carlos took your hand in his. The car had stopped and was parked on a side of the road. 

“Are you okay? We can still turn around, and I can tell my parents that we will come another time. They will understand.” And just as carlos pulled his phone out of the console, you answered him.

“I- I… I just… I'm nervous. What if your family does not like me, or what if I do something to embarrass myself. What if I disappoint you, and you will want to not date me anymore?”

Carlos was taken a back on your answer. How could you think that you could disappoint him? You are his everything. He hated that you had such cruel thoughts in your head.

“This will go perfect. You are perfect. You don't need to worry, if we have each other, we are okay.”

You nodded with a smile and carlos squeezed your hand as a reassurement. He started the car and started driving the car again. His hand finding the spot on your thigh again.

For the rest of the car drive, you distracted yourself by playing with carlos big veiny hands or him telling you some facts about his family to calm you down fully.

And then the time came. Carlos parked in front of his parents' house. This was the time. You took a final deep breath, stept out of the car and took carlos hand in your for assurement.

At the front door, Carlos rang the bell, and you waited for the door to open. A few seconds later the door opened and his mother, Reyes, opened the door with a welcoming smile.

She looked at the both of you for a second before pulling carlos into a warm hug. Reyes let him go and just as you wanted to stick your hand out to greet her, she had pulled you into a warm, welcoming hug.

After the hug, she welcomed you in the house and you three walked in. You were still a bit taken back because of the hug. It was something new, to be given such a sincere, loving hug from a mother.

You shook the feeling away and walked into the living room where te rest of the family members were staying. The first person that greeted hugged you was his father, carlos.

Then his older sister, Blanca, and his younger sister, Ana. After the both of them came his cousin Carlos, who you already knew from the Ferrari garage. Knowing that he was there two made the whole thing a bit better.

You let out a breath, knowing and realizing that they were all very friendly and nice to you. It was like the load disappeared from your shoulders, and you could breathe normally.

Every family member asked you question after question, but you were happy to answer them, feeling great that they were so happy to meet you. It felt absolutely amazing that people were interested in you.

You ate dinner and talked about carlos and you, his family, or about normal things. At first, it was weird talking to so many people at dinner, but after some time it came naturally.

It felt like you had experienced it before. Like you were a pro. But you didn't. You never had a family dinner, where you talked about the things that were important in your life.

It felt… It felt like you had a new family now. One that would not judge you or hate you for a decision you made. They accepted you and loved you like they own. Well, that was what his mother had said to you.

After dinner, you all cleaned up the table and when you brought your plate into the kitchen, carlos cousin pulled you to the side, so no one could hear what he wanted to say to you.

“And was it that bad?”

“What?”

“Carlos told me that you were really nervous to meeting us all.”

“It wasn't that bad” you joked, and he gave you a side hug until you saw carlos coming in your direction. His cousin left and was replaced by carlos who snuggled into your side.

And a while later you returned to the table because they all wanted to play a game together. This was also something you had never experienced with your family.

You played until the late evening and stopped as everyone was starting to get tired. You packed every thing away and you and carlos said goodbye to his whole family. The last one was his mother.

“Mi dulce querida, you are a part of the family now. I'm so happy to have met you. You are a lovely girl. Carlos and you are perfect for each other.” My sweet darling.

And as you sat in the car and drove home, you thought about the entire day. 

You were finally excepted and loved by someone who you didn't even know till yesterday. It was like a new you was born. A new you that excepted herself as she is.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

BATMAN/ BATFAMILY MASTERLIST

*DISCLAIMER: SOME STORIES MAY BE TAGGED FOR WRONG DEMOGRAPHIC (ie, Not GN, male or fem) IF SO, PLEASE POLITELTY INFORM ME SO I CAN FIX IT

BRUCE WAYNE/ BATMAN

I Can't Protect You Anymore (Batman X Daughter!Reader)

Turning Into Jason (Bruce Wayne X Daughter!Reader)

Teleportation Help (Bruce Wayne X Daughter!Reader)

Forgotten Birthday (Bruce Wayne X Daughter!Reader)

Finding Identities (Bruce Wayne X Teen!Reader)

Independence (Bruce Wayne X Male!Teen!Reader)

Dick And Jason's Friend (Bruce Wayne X Male!Reader

Addicton To Fear (Bruce Wayne X Male!Reader)

Happy Anniversary (Bruce Wayne X Male!Reader)

DICK GRAYSON/ NIGHTWING

Plan PDA (Dick Grayson X Male!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2/ Pt 3

Movies And Plans (Dick Grayson X Male!Reader)

Telling Truths (Dick Grason X Male!Reader)

Loathing To Love (Dick Grayson X Male!Reader)

Seeing An Unwanted Face (Dick Grayson X Male!Reader)

Escaping Joker (Dick Grayson X Fem!Reader) *TW

Hating Your Presence (Dick Grayson X Fem!Reader)

Betrayed (Dick Grayson X Reader)

JASON TODD/ RED HOOD

MIA (Jason Todd X Male!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Just An Accident (Jason Todd X Male!Reader)

Sleeping Over (Jason Todd X Male!Reaer)

Never Forgotten (Jason Todd X Male!Reader)

Serving Revenge (Jason Todd X Male!Reader)

Practically Together (Jason Todd X Male!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Help Through Change (Jason Todd X Reader)

Selina's Kitten (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Meeting The Family (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Quoting Shakespeare (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Nightmares (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Jason's Partner's Sacrifice (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Opposing Ego (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Shut Up! (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Protecting Children (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Wrong Apartment (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Staying Home (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Under The Mask (Jason Todd X Fem!Reader)

Normalcy In Chaos (Jason Todd X Brother!Reader)

Anxieties (Jason Todd X Sister!Reader)

TIM DRAKE/ RED ROBIN

You're More Important (Tim Drake X Reader)

Childhood Promises (Tim Drake X Male!Reader)

DAMIAN WAYNE/ ROBIN

Trust Takes Time (Damian Wayne X Batmom!Reader)

A New Member Of The Family (Damian Wayne X Sister!Reader)

Secret Friendship (Damian Wayne X Fem!Reader)

Meeting On Rooftops (Damian Wayne X Fem!Reader)

Similar Suffering (Damian Wayne X Fem!Reader)

Needing To Move (Damian Wayne X Reader)

Longing At Galas (Adult!Damian Wayne X Male!Reader)

ALFRED PENNYWORTH

Needing A Cheer Up (Alfred Pennyworth X Fem!Reader)

BATFAM

Lost Control (Batfam X Fem!Reader)

A Part Of The Family (Batfam X Fem!Reader)

Nothing Said (Batfam X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt2

Hanging Criminals (Batfam X Brother!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

New Sister (Batfam X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Much Loved Sister In Law (Batfam X Fem!Reader)

Walking Home (Batfam X Deaf!Batson!Reader)

Little Daredevil (Batfam X Blind!Batsis!Reader)

Being Bruce' First Bio Son And You're Developing Relationship With Damian Would Include...

Date With A Girl (Batfam X Batsis!Reader)

Birthday Blues (Batfam X Male!Reader)

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Engaged to an Italian man and carrying a secret pregnancy, Y/n must decide when and how to reveal the news to her notorious family.

The reader pronouns: she/her

Pairings: the Shelby family x shelby!reader x OC (faceclaim Lorenzo Zurzolo)

Words count: 2.4k

Tw: mentions of death, pregnancy, italian written by me (but there are english translations)

Additional inf.: Y/n's mother, was made up by me as well

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

A Shelby Surprise

Now that the vendetta with Changrettas was over, everyone could take a breath. Finally all the stress was gone and for once the Shelby family wasn't in trouble. They hoped it would stay this way.

The stress was gone, but not for Y/n, Arthur's daughter. What nobody expected coming, she fell in love. What was so unfortunate about this? The man was Italian.

If it happened a few years earlier or a few years later maybe that would have been alright. But not right now when the memory of vendetta was still crystal clear.

The man Y/n fell in love with wasn't a Changretta, but she supposed it wouldn't matter to her family. As long as the vendetta was still a fresh topic, he would be a bad man in their eyes.

As if the problem wasn't big enough, Y/n got pregnant. The man knew about it and wanted to be present in the kid's life, he even proposed to Y/n. But the challange was to tell Y/n's family about it.

So there she was - calling each family member, inviting them for a little 'party'. Y/n had no experience in this stuff, so she considered it the best way, telling everyone at the same time when they're gathered together.

"It'll be fine," Y/n's fiance said, squeezing her hand lightly. "What's the worst that could happen? Will they murder me?" He laughed.

"You really didn't know what you're signing up for when you fucked a Shelby, did you?"

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"Non voglio dirgli della gravidanza,"* Y/n paced around the living room, waiting for the guests to arrive. "What if we only tell them about our engagement?"

*I don't want to tell them about the pregnancy

"Non possiamo, cara mia. La noteranno prima o poi."**

**we can't, my dear. They'll notice it sooner or later.

Right after those words, the sound of knocking filled the room.

Y/n took a deep breath. "Hide upstairs, Nicco. I'll call for you when it's the right time."

The man walked in the direction she instructed as she herself went to open the door.

The Shelby clan. In front of Y/n's doors. Waiting to be let inside. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to tell everyone in the same time.

Despite her running heartbeat, Y/n tried to stay calm as she greeted each person that entered her house.

Something was off when Y/n hugged aunt Polly. The woman eyed her up and down. Did she know? Most likely. She sensed it when Lizzie was pregnant, so why wouldn't she now?

"You probably wonder why we've gathered here today." Y/n spoke, her gesturing more intense than ever. She tried to make her voice sound as light and free of stress as possible, but it was a difficult thing to do due to the anxious feeling in her stomach. Either the stress or the baby inside was making Y/n want to puke right there.

"Yes, we'd love to know." Polly said, a faint smile on her face.

Everyone had their eyes glued to Y/n. Ada watched the girl with worry, as well as Linda who treated Y/n as her own, Polly was fighting the smile from completely ruling on her face, Finn looked extremely confused, Tommy lit up a cigarette.

"Are you in trouble?" Arthur asked eventually.

"Yes and no." That answer didn't clear up anything.

"What do you mean?"

A nervous laugh escaped Y/n's mouth. "Do you remember mum? My mum, your wife, who died many years ago?"

Arthur nodded confusedly. How could he not remember her? He would never forget that amazing woman, who gave him love, hope and a beautiful daughter and then passed away too soon.

"I remember Georgia." Arthur didn't want to talk about her. Years passed and now he had Linda, but the wound caused by his first wife's death was still open.

"Dad, her name was Giorgia. She was Italian, don't try to rewrite that story. The reason why I'm reminding you about it is..." Y/n hesitated fr the last time, "I hope you'll understand my situation."

The times were different back when Arthur and Giorgia were together. Back then, she was just a simple girl who moved to England from Italy and fell in love with a man from Birmingham. There wasn't any vendetta, so their relationship wasn't such a sensitive topic, but nevertheless Y/n hoped her father would understand.

"Can you stop the charade?" Tommy chimed in impatiently.

Y/n nodded. "Niccolò, come here!"

The tall, brownhaired man walked down into the living room. He was dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and elegant black shoes.

"Everyone, this is Niccolò. Niccolò, this is my family."

Everyone eyed the man. Tommy and Arthur were especially suspicious about him.

Niccolò shook hands with each Shelby, taking the time to introduce himself better and get to know everyone.

When the man lastly got to Arthur and Tommy, they refused to shake hands with him, their arms remaining crossed on his chest.

Arthur looked at his daughter. "Why are you introducing him to us?"

"Seriously?" Y/n sighed. "Dad, are you this clueless?"

"Yes, Arthur, are you this clueless?" Polly asked with a full smile on her face now.

Arthur wasn't clueless. He suspected, he knew, but he didn't want it to be the truth.

"Niccolò is my fiance."

The room fell almost silent, if it wasn't for Finn's coughing. He choked on the air and smoke, he was lighting up a cigarette when Y/n broke the news. Finn was her uncle, but they were rather like siblings to each other, because Y/n was even a few years older than Finn.

"He's your what?" Arthur asked.

"Fiance. I'm sorry I haven't told you before, but I was afraid of your reaction."

"An Italian, eh?" Tommy interrogated, shifting his gaze to Niccolò. "Who are your parents? What do they do?"

Y/n added, "O digli il tuo cognome e lo scoprirà entro domani."***

***or say your last name and he'll find it all out by tomorrow

Niccolò smirked and the girl's comment, but then turned back to being serious. "They moved to this country before I was born. My father died in the war, but my mother has a flower shop in London."

"A flower shop?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting."

"I see what you're doing," Y/n said, "Nicco has nothing to do with the Changrettas."

"It's just funny how he appears in your life exactly when-"

"Yes, vendetta, I know. Can we talk in private, dad?"

Arthur and his daughter walked out of the room into a small kitchen. Y/n leaned on the kitchen counter.

"Can you stop?"

"Stop what?" Arthur asked. "I'm just trying to get to know my future son-in-law."

"Can you do it without making it seem like you're looking for a correlation between him and the Changrettas?"

"I don't want him to hurt you. Or any of us. Isn't it any suspicious to you?"

"It's a stupid coincidence!"

Arthur sighed, looking at his daughter with a mixture of concern and skepticism. "Y/n, you know how things are around here. We've been through hell with the Changrettas, and now you bring an Italian man into our lives. You can't expect me not to be cautious."

"I understand, but he's not connected to the Changrettas in any way. I wouldn't put our family in danger like that," Y/n pleaded.

Arthur rubbed his forehead, contemplating the situation. "You could have at least given us a heads up. This is a lot to take in all at once."

He was trying his best to remain calm. The old Arthur would've bursted out of the house a long time ago, but now he was in control of his emotions.

A lot to take at once. Prepare for more, then, Y/n thought.

"I know, dad, but I was scared. Exactly because of that. I'm sorry, but we really do love each other."

"Just promise me, if anything feels wrong, you'll let me know. I don't want you keeping secrets."

"I promise, dad. I won't keep secrets. I want us to be a family, including Niccolò."

Arthur forced a smile. "Alright, let's go back out there. I'll try my best to keep an open mind, for your sake."

Poor Niccolò was left alone with the Shelbys. It was a weight off his shoulders when Y/n was back in the room.

Everyone looked at Arthur curiously. He spoke. "We'll give it a chance. But you," he pointed at Niccolò, "hurt her, and there won't be a place on earth you can hide from us."

Niccolò nodded respectfully. "I understand, sir."

"Can we all just enjoy the evening and celebrate this occasion that is our engagement?" Y/n asked cheerfully.

The atmosphere felt lighter, the family peacefully continued the gathering. Most of them wanted to trust Niccolò and give him a chance.

Arthur and Thomas kept a close eye on Niccolò throughout the night. Their suspicions weren't easy to put to rest, but for Y/n's sake they chose to keep their mouths shut this one time.

After dinner Y/n and Niccolò managed to talk to Finn alone. Y/n decided that the pregnancy would be too much for just one evening and all her fiance could do was accept it. However, they trusted Finn with this information.

"Finn, we have to tell you something." Y/n said after she made sure everyone else is busy.

"Oh no, another big news?" Finn whined. "I don't know if this family can handle more tonight."

"That's why we wanted to talk to you alone," Niccolò pointed out, "it's a secret."

Y/n added, "A secret just for you, Finn. The mission is to keep it until we can tell the others. You understand, soldier?"

"Alright, I guess." Finn agreed with a curious expression on his face. "You didn't kill anybody, did you?"

"No, of course we didn't."

"Quite the opposite," Niccolò added with a chuckle. "Y/n is pregnant."

Finn raised his eyebrow and joked. ""Engaged and having a baby... You didn't waste any time, did you?"

"Proposing is the right action to make once you knock somebody up," Nicco chuckled, "but seriously, it was actually planned."

Y/n giggled, "Life comes at you fast, Finn. Engaged and having a baby. We wanted to share the news with you first."

"Besides it'd be a lot to handle in one evening." Niccolò grinned. "We'll make the announcement in the right time."

Finn shook his head in disbelief, "I can't believe you decided to put so much pressure on me!" He laughed. "Am I supposed to lie to Tommy and Arthur?"

"Like you haven't lied to them before." Y/n pointed out sarcastically. "They aren't going to ask you any questions."

As they headed back to join the family, Finn couldn't help but wear a mischievous grin. The rest of the Shelbys continued their celebration oblivious to the news.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

A few days later, aunt Polly paid a visit to Y/n and Niccolò, surprising the both of them. Despite the surprise, they couldn't not let her inside.

"I need to talk to Y/n," the woman said, "it's a ladies business. Be so kind, Niccolò, and find something to do for the next... half an hour."

Niccolò raised an eyebrow at the request but decided not to push it. "Alright, take your time, ladies." He grabbed his coat, a pack of cigarettes and walked outside.

Polly and Y/n settled into the living room, the air heavy with curiosity. Polly took a moment, eyeing Y/n.

"I know you're hiding something," the woman said, lighting up a cigarette, "and I wanna hear it from you. I'm giving you a chance here."

"Am I hiding anything?" Y/n tried to convinvnce Polly that she was wrong. But she knew the woman has been a little different recently.

Tommy and Michael thought she's starting to go crazy or maybe it's the alcohol that she seemed to be drinking a bit more often, but Polly knew she had been blessed. Blessed with the gift of contacting spirits, predicting certain things.

"Let's start from here. Are you keeping it?"

Y/n's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not gonna tell your father if you don't want me to. I was in your shoes once. I know a place, we will go there and-"

"Yes, I'm keeping it."

Polly smiled widely. "That's wonderful. Would you like to know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"We want it to be a surprise. Besides I don't think it's safe to do... whatever magic you do on a pregnant woman."

"It's not magic, my dear. You can't read cards or tea leaves for a pregnant woman, but I just sense it's a-"

"A surprise. Please, please, please, I really don't wanna find out yet."

"Alright... and now, why didn't you tell us? Any of us?"

"Wasn't that a little bit too much in too little time?" Y/n scratched the back of her neck nervously. "Didn't wanna add to the chaos."

Y/n decided to not mention the fact that Finn actually knew about it.

Aunt Polly studied Y/n for a moment before nodding approvingly. "Well, love, you've made your bed, now you have to lie in it. But I'm not here to scold you. I just want to make sure you're ready for what's coming."

"I know it won't be easy, but I'm ready. I have a husband, almost. I have a house. We can make it."

"Remember, you also have us. Me and Ada can certainly help you with the baby. I'm sure Linda will also love this new little Shelby."

"The baby isn't going to be a Shelby... I'll go with Nicco's last name."

Polly leaned back, taking a thoughtful drag from her cigarette. "Fair enough. But remember, secrets have a way of coming out, especially in this family. And when they do, it's usually in the most dramatic way possible."

"I'll tell the rest of the family soon... can you come with me to dad and Tommy? I'm a bit scared to tell them..."

"Of course, love. There's nothing you should be afraid of, you're a grown woman. When your mother was your age, you were running barefoot in my backyard."

Y/n smiled at the comment. "Thank you, Aunt Polly. I appreciate your support."

Polly stood up, stubbing out her cigarette. She gave Y/n a hug before heading to the door. "Now, take care of yourself and that little surprise of yours. And let me know when you're ready for me to do whatever 'magic' you think I do."

As Polly left, Y/n couldn't help but be grateful for the unexpected ally in her corner. She suddenly felt much more confident.

[strrynigghts]

dinner is served

— könig x main cod members x fem!reader

— cw/tw: mentions of food (eating + making + serving), feeling lonely despite being in a room of people, könig and reader are friends, not proofread, lmk if I’ve missed any!

— summary: könig joins you for dinner

— an: visited my family as I finally moved closer to them, and decided to make them dinner! was excited until I was the only one at the dinner table :) I also want to apologise for going mia! I moved to a different state and I still need to get all my stuff settled! also note that I’ve never played a damn cod game in my entire life and only know who’s who by reading fics written by others or from doing research for 10 seconds, so please excuse any cod mistakes!

after a long day of training with the 141, you’ve decided that you’d make a nice meal for everyone. you enjoyed cooking for them, and it’s been a while since you’ve last been able to make them, and yourself, a decent meal.

you knew it wasn’t going to be easy—the kitchen was loaded with mres—but luckily, the chefs from last night left a couple things behind.

you found mac ‘n cheese, green beans, chicken strips, and lettuce. it was more than plenty to work with, but you were excited to cook regardless.

opening the cans of carrots and green beans, you dumped them into their respective pots, adding salt and pepper as well as butter, to them both. you placed the chicken on a tray and popped them in the oven, and chopped up the lettuce and placed it into the fridge.

after about fifteen minutes, everything was done! you were happy and smiling and very excited to feed your teammates! you knew they loved your cooking, and they were so grateful when you did cook.

you grabbed out plates and cups, putting a little bit of everything onto their plates. you knew that most of them didn’t mind their food touching, but alejandro was sorta picky and didn’t like it when his veggie juice touched other foods. adding tea or water into certain cups, you’ve backed away to admire your work. it was beautifully done and you felt so proud!

“boys! dinner!” you yelled, and much like a stampede, they all came running—except for könig? “made y’all chicken, mac ‘n cheese, salad, and some green beans with carrots to go along with it. it’s important to eat your veggies.”

“thank you lass,” ghost and a few others said. you knew that even though some didn’t say their thanks, that they were still thankful.

“thank you love,” price chimed in, after you’ve passed all plates out—except for königs and yours. they all walked over to the room next to the kitchen and flicked the tv on, three of them on the couch and two of them in the loveseats.

grabbing a plate yourself, you proceeded to add whatever you wanted onto your plate. you always served yourself last when it came to making them food. you didn’t mind, you knew very well that they required more calories due to how much more extensive their training was.

you looked at königs plate, popping it into the microwave for a minute to keep it warm at least. you knew it wasn’t far behind the others, always showing up after the others all have settled into their seats. you grabbed yours and looked at the boys: there weren’t any seats left, and you didn’t like sitting on the floor. you sighed quietly and sat at the table near the kitchen.

there was a lump in your throat, however. you were so excited to finally cook for your team, for your family, but then they go into a different room and turn the tv on. you wanted to talk them, wanted them to talk to you, share stories, all that jazz. the laughter they shared just then didn’t help the lump go down either. your elbows were hanging off the table and your fork poked at your plate. you weren’t even hungry anymore.

you were too far into your mind that you didn’t notice könig grab his plate from the microwave and sit down at the table until he reached out for your hand. you looked up at him and although you couldn’t see it, you knew his eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes staring at you.

“are you okay, y/n?” he sounded so worried, removing his hand away as he sat straighter, raising his mask just to his nose before he went to take a bite.

“not really that hungry anymore.” you cleared your throat, offering him a weak smile as you stared back at him.

“pft, such nonsense maus! this is really good.”

you looked away, biting your lip as you sat in silence for a brief moment. you looked back at könig, only to see that he has his spoon up in your face, offering you a bite despite having your own plate right there. “c’mon, take a bite!” he shoved it closer to your face and you laughed softly, allowing the spoon to push past your lips.

könig pulled the spoon away and chuckled. “see? it’s good isn’t it, ja?”

you felt much better now that your best friend was eating at the table with you, making you laugh <3

image credit found here

[arhaaong]

ARHAA OONG. thirty7. AUTHOR. california native who moved to windsor bay 24 years ago. THE SINGLE (ADOPTIVE) FATHER OF TWO. the OLDEST and only surviving of the OONG family. a TAURUS through and through; every bit as CARING and RELIABLE as OBSTINATE and SECRETIVE. henry golding fc.

BASICS

full name: jordan arhaa warren ong

nickname: just arhaa

age/date of birth: 37 / may 8th, 1987

zodiac sign: taurus ☼ libra ☾ cancer ↑

gender identity: cis man (he/him)

hometown: hermosa beach, california

current location: windsor bay, or

housing: mountainside

time in town: on-and-off, 24 years

sexual orientation: demisexual

occupation: author

PERSONALITY

labels: the phoenix, the benefactor, the mediator

positive traits: gentle , reliable , caring , trustworthy , allocentric , dutiful

negative traits: obstinate , reticent , stubborn , secretive , deceitful

hobbies: cooking, reading, musical theatre, camping, sports, volunteering

languages spoken: english, malay, french

instruments played: guitar, piano

favorite color: blue, red, green

favorite food: anything, but specially pies (he has memories attached to pies)

allergies: n/a

APPEARANCE

height: 6'1

distinguished characteristics: multiple scars throughout his body; a blink and you’ll miss it type of situation. some are from childhood and barely noticeable if you look closely whilst the most prominent ones are around 4 years old, situated in his ribs. there is no itemized list yet, but it is something he is acutely aware of.

tattoos: a phoenix on his back, a minimalist tattoo from the song ‘from eden’ by hozier where the word idealism sits in a small prison and it’s located on his left ribcage, the date of his mom’s passing and his sibling’s disappearance on his chest, the phrase ‘when i was drowning, that’s where i could finally breathe’ on his right forearm. ( ref )

piercings: n/a

right or left-handed?: right-handed

RELATIONSHIPS

parents: robert warren (whereabouts unknown), lili ong (deceased)

sibling(s): adam warren (deceased) (there may be half siblings, who knows?)

children: two adoptive children, a six year old called mia and jack, who is twelve

pet(s): a seven year old golden retriever named pollux

other family members: tbd

BIOGRAPHY

tw: death, car accident, substance abuse

It’s easy falling in love with the sun when all you know is darkness. That much Robert Warren learned when he first met Lili Oong, a ballet dancer who was in California as the new ballerina for Los Angeles Ballet who had moved recently from a little town called Windsor Bay, Oregon. Her warmth eclipsed the harrowing black hole in his chest the moment he laid eyes on her and so, he asked her out on a date that same night. 3 months later, Lili was moving in with him after a shotgun wedding and a positive pregnancy test on her hand, giving up her dreams of becoming a worldly-known dancer for a bigger dream of hers: becoming a mother.

The first few months were a dream; with Robert landing a promotion and Lili having an easy enough pregnancy, using all her newlyfound free time to enrich herself with tools to help her become the mother she never had. Soon, however, their luck changed and their future was forever shifted.

Robert, savvy in his ways but with darkness lurking deep within his soul, was offered a new business venture when an old friend of his opened his mind to the world of the fabrication of off-the-shelve opioids. Knowing soon he'd have a child to take care of and money would stretch thinner than it already was, he agreed without telling his wife and mother-to-be, ultimately becoming a consumer as well as a maker and a seller. The fairytale began to crack, the man who had once been charming and loving became cold, distant and began showing a violent and angry nature that had been unknown to Lili who by now was due to give birth at any day.

Arhaa was born in Hermosa Beach, California into an already broken household with a negligent, abusive, narcissistic father and a loving and caring but mentally exhausted mother who had sadly been drawn to the world of opioids addiction by her very own husband (who made a living out of not only dealing but fabricating said drugs) only a few weeks after giving birth to her second son; Adam. Although the family lead a chaotic and rather dramatic life, the two siblings became inseparable from the very first day Arhaa held his little brother in his arms and vowed to protect him. Despite the trials and tribulations that came with their upbringing, the two siblings had quite a normal childhood. With their father disappearing every other day the remaining three members of the family did their best with what they were handed; providing eachother the love and support they needed to get by with their mother working tirelessly to provide for her family while Arhaa did his best to take care of his little brother, only a few years his junior. Their lives changed a few months after Arhaa's 12th birthday when their father arrived home after yet another escapade to inform his wife he was leaving for good to never return. Free at last, the mother of two packed all the essentials, sell the home her children had grown up in and decided to move the family to Wilmington, her hometown. For a while, the new breath of fresh air worked on their favor; bringing the cursed family a new wave of tranquillity they hadn't known before thanks to the Ong family, yet it was short-lived the day the siblings found their mother passed out on the living room coming from school, lips blue and skin translucid and cold to the touch; he was pronounced dead on the way to the hospital. Unbeknownst to her children and her family, she had been on a battle with substance abuse since Arhaa's birth and it had finally caught up to her, leaving her children heartbroken and alone.

Arhaa's aunt, his mother's sister, decided to take the two siblings in in honor of her sister and although they learned to love and care for eachother in the long run and it ultimately reshaped the way the eldest viewed love and family, the first few years were difficult for everyone involved as each member of the family was in their own way, dealing with the grief of losing the most important person in their lives. One of Arhaa's methods to cope with his new reality became planning for his future; from high school grades and activities and a part-time job to save money, he planned an escape route: NYU. He worked tirelessly for the next two years to earn a spot in the prestigious school and was rewarded with not only an acceptance letter but a partial scholarship.

The eldest Ong sibling moved to New York for college leaving his little brother with a promise: he'd work hard to build a life and a home in the new city and once Adam was done with school, he'd move in with him and they could leave their past behind them. For two years, Arhaa spent his mornings attending lessons and his evenings and nights working two, sometimes three jobs to hold his end of the bargain and find a home the two siblings could share only for Adam to ultimately decline the offer, claiming he was better off in Windsor Bay. With no room to overthink or even discuss the issue, the eldest sibling spent the next year dedicating his full attention to college, ultimately graduating with a major in English Literature and a minor in Creative Writing. It took a couple years and a few odd jobs here and there for the writer to fully earn a space in the New York literary society ultimately making friends with an indie publishing company's owner that upon reading his very first draft of a book, offered him a deal to publish it the minute he was done editing it. At age 25, Arhaa saw his biggest dream brought to fruition when his first novel was published, quickly gaining enough momentum to become a moderate success not even 4 months after its publication.

In a streak of luck, the indie publishing company that initially trusted in him and his vision offered him a new deal to become an associate, offering him a third of the company and a new contract for his next books. The now renowned author happily accepted and worked tirelessly for an entire year on both his next book and signing new talent, wanting nothing more than making other's dreams come true.

A little after his 26th birthday with a bestseller and a deal for three more books, Arhaa decided to move back to Windsor Bay to both work on his second novel and to be closer to his brother. The years that followed brought the brothers a sense of calm and normalcy they hadn't felt in their life with, a family to call their own and to treasure. It felt like life was finally being kind to the Ong siblings until the fateful day the youngest Ong sibling was killed in a car accident only a few miles away from Arhaa's home where the eldest was hosting a birthday party for him. The news were soul-shaking for everyone involved and it send Arhaa into a spiral as he had lost both his best friend and the last remaining family member he had.

For months, he let his pain guide him. Drinks, parties, drugs and bodies passed through him in an attempt to heal wounds that had followed him from birth with little to no result. He'd live life with just enough conscience to get by and spend most nights wide awake, turning in bed letting each and ever skeleton in his closet keep him company in pain and anger. He let grief write his second novel, pouring out every part of him in his magnum opus that ultimately became his salvation. With the help of that second body of work and therapy, slowly but surely the author pulled himself out of the dark whole he made for himself and allowed himself to let go of some of the pain and heartache when he published his novel, two years after his brother's accident earning him another best seller weeks before its release.

Time passed and with enough help, his life began to make sense again. He cemented his name as a renowned author and made a life in his Windsor Bay; got a dog that became his trusty companion and closest confidant and on his 3-th birthday, Arhaa decided to give his life a new spin by becoming a foster parent, both to play a homage to his family who took him in and his brother when they needed it the most and wanting to be that safe space for kids who needed it. Years of preparing and waiting for the right pick later, he welcomed Jack and Mia into his home, the first children who were put under his care; their tragic story a mirror of his own, their pain and fear something he could not only relate to but was personally affected by. With enough care and love, Arhaa managed to gain the children's trust and later on their love, ultimately asking for their consent to fully adopt them as his own so they could become the family the three of them had been searching for their whole lives and officially becoming their adoptive father at age 35.

[mopeymi]

You Have Terrible Morals and Obligations - Soap/Ghost

Official Part 3

TW: Cursing

Soap saw it coming. The day Price would call them into his office and announce what he so dreaded hearing. He just didn’t think it’d be today, exactly a year from when he joined the Task Force and first fist-bumped “The Ghost’s” shoulder. Exactly a year from when his life would change for the better and he would be surrounded by people that genuinely loved him.

Gaz sat to his right, eyes scanning the files on Price’s desk with evident alarm.

“Boys,” Price sighed as he leaned forward, throwing a file their way. It had a red, stamped ‘classified’ on the side, “That’s the official report. I’m sure you know what it is.”

The room was silent. Gaz and Soap could only stare at the Manila folder, both afraid to pick it up and read the information.

Everything felt distant. Like that feeling when you’ve had one to many and life feels meaningless. In that folder sat the final report for Ghost: MIA is what they put down. Missing In Action.

Ghost; Hardened, capable, trained, MI-fucking-A. Soap wanted to cry. To kick and scream and throw things. They could’ve done more if Price had given them the chance. There was a reason they were a part of an elite Task Force and it wasn’t to sit around whilst a team member’s life is -was?- at stake.

Soap knew not to be angry with Price, though, especially since he had known Ghost the longest. The two were the founding members of the 141 and it was obvious how much Price thought of Ghost as a son.

The three took to mourning the loss in their own ways. Price became a workaholic, spending hours on end in his office writing and typing reports. His bourbon supply had significantly reduced, but neither boys made a comment on it.

Gaz went to visit his family again, returning within a week seemingly at peace with what happened. Soap could still see the sadness in his eyes at times, slightly shiny, but he would blink it away quickly. Gaz and Price had begun spending more time together as well, their spirits seemingly increasing in the time they talked.

Soap, of course, took it the hardest. He shut everyone out, solely training and sleeping. He was unhealthy, however, since he quit eating normal meals. No matter what Price and Gaz did, he never became himself again.

His cheerful and bright personality became dull and hardened. He didn’t joke anymore, rarely talking in general. You used to be able to find him gallivanting across base, all smiles and strut. Now he was either in his barracks or the gym, only doing his duties when necessary.

Price couldn’t take it anymore. He took it upon himself to contact one of the therapists on base, giving the woman all of Soap’s information and scheduling him an appointment.

Soap didn’t take it too well when Price told him it was a direct order. He scowled at the older man, saying it was a breach of liberty, but Price couldn’t give two shits. Soap went where he was ordered like a good little soldier.

He expected to hate it, having to talk about himself and his ‘problems’ (As Price apparently described them.) The therapist was very nice, however. She spoke with a calming voice, none of her words sounded demeaning. She made Soap feel understood and heard and seen.

After two months of bi-weekly appointments, she released him back to full duty - Which Price had taken him off of once he called the therapist.

Soap was invigorated, smiling again and joking with recruits. Moral was boosted once more and progress soared shortly after. The base felt normal again. Everything was back to normal.

Price had a mission set up for the Task Force, some random drug op back in Mexico. Once Soap saw Ale and Rudy, it was like old times. They never once asked where Ghost was, Soap figured Price told them beforehand, and he was grateful for it.

He had learned to love what he had and not think about what was lost, and that’s what he had been doing. Especially after the drug op when Price allowed him two weeks vacation. Of course he spent the time wreaking havoc in Las Almas with none other than Los Vaqueros.

He couldn’t help but feel a small ache in his chest, however. Before Ghost had gone on his last mission, they had talked about coming back to visit the two ‘cowboys’. It took some convincing on Soap’s end in all honesty, but Ghost was never against the idea.

He thinks Simon would’ve loved it. How beautiful the market looked at night, lit up with the different stalls. The way the stars shone down on the city, perfect viewing on the rooftop of where Soap was staying.

When he was walking around the market stalls on his last day, there was an elderly woman selling handmade masks to children. He took an interest in them, walking over to inspect what she had.

When he returned from Mexico, he started brandishing a red skull mask on every mission. No one questioned him.

Okay so that’s all the basic setup to the story that I had in my first little drabble. Now to the REAL drama 😈

(Fluff on the way soon I promise, I still love you and I hope you’ll love me even after what’s going to come. 💕🌹)

[solaneceae]

grief

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) written before green team was split between red and blue, so in this they all died. angst with a side of family comfort. tw: blood and gore, temporary character death, self-inflicted burns

Pac wakes with a deep ache inside his chest and at the back of his mind — like a fresh, open wound that’s still bleeding. He reaches out, for the comforting hum of his soulmate’s sleeping mind on the other side, and finds nothing.

He doesn’t understand. But he also does. He’s surprised he’s not immediately breaking down screaming, but maybe he’s been broken for a long time and just didn’t notice until now.

He finds Pierre and Bad, busying themselves at the anvils. And he asks.

(Nothing, he has nothing, Richas missing, Cellbit insane and on the hunt for him, Forever dead, Mike dead, Bagi dead, Felps still MIA.

Fit.

Fit’s gone. Fit has died hating him.)

“I see,” he says, numb and empty.

And he draws out his sword.

When Red Team wakes the next morning, some of them are still holding onto hope. Hope that it was all a lie, hope that Green would merely be dissolved, its members assigned to the two remaining teams.

Hope is a cruel, fickle thing. And it dwindles fast in the minds of team Bolas as the hours start to trickle by, with no sign of any green-tinted name popping up on the global chat. Even faster when Carré comes back from recon, reporting the disappearance of Green’s spawn barrier as well as their mission NPCs.

The silence within their cave is deafening, only broken by the sound of a hammer hitting red-hot metal over the anvil. Some of them just check their comms obsessively, fraying minds tethering between denial and a complete breakdown. 

Cellbit hasn’t moved an inch since he woke up, sitting up at the center of their shared nest with absolutely nothing in his icy, blue slitted eyes as they stare at his commlink. At the last messages he’d sent to Roier, still unanswered. (His husband is gone. His sister is gone. His best friend, his President is gone. He has nothing left, and his tongue tastes like unspilled blood.)

Phil is looming over a crafting table, mindlessly placing and removing materials with no rhyme or reason. (Étoiles is gone, his best friend and brother in arms, his devil-may-care attitude, his humor, his fearless smile. Fit’s gone, his shameless flirting and unwavering determination. Forever. Forever. Kristin is eerily silent.)

Jaiden sits in a faraway corner, sharpening her sword until the edge can slice the very empty space between atoms. (Roier taught her. He taught her so much. She would make him proud.)

Charlie is off near the ovens, baking bread after bread after bread in a compulsive act of self-soothing that doesn’t quite work. (He thinks of his bitch wife, and hopes he’ll be smart enough to stay asleep today.)

Baghera’s shaking, huddled close to her fellow avian and mentor as she watches him work without really processing it, the crow’s hand occasionally tapper on her arm to keep her from ripping her feathers off. (She thinks of her brother. Her stubborn, annoying baby brother and his cursed bleeding heart. His hair had been cut so short, she’d been wanting to take a moment to even it, maybe style it a little even. She thinks of Pierre, and feels hatred. She thinks of Badboy, and feels betrayal.)

Foolish straightens up, rolls his shoulder as he admires his handiwork. (He thinks of his adopted son, and remembers why Bad always told him not to get attached to mortals. But Foolish never listens, and never will, despite how much it hurts every single time.) “It’s ready,” he drones out, catching the attention of everyone present. Phil turns to him, expression set in stone and unreadable. “Let me see.”

Team Bolas congregates around their leader, slightly bowed in something like reverence as he walks past them towards the shark-totem. Foolish grins, mirthless and cold, as he hands him a metal stick. The head of it is adorned with a strange shape, still reddish from heat. “Good job,” the Angel of Death nods, eyes and hands stained black as a few stray plants and roots wither away under his feet. His flock shivers like a single entity, all of them fastening their masks over weary, tear-streaked faces. Foolish whistles, spinning the branding iron like a majorette would their stick. “Thanks, Crowfather sir! Wanna do the honours?” Foolish chirps.

Philza Minecraft nods, silently letting his robe fall off his shoulders, exposing his naked back. “Let’s do it quick,” he says, looking over each of his fledgelings, who bow their heads in unwavering loyalty. “Today, we don’t let them rest. Not for a second. Doesn’t matter how many times they kill us, we swarm them, again and again. We, teach them pain.” He feels the heat of the furnace on his back as he sits before it, Foolish humming a cheery tune as he pokes at the blazing inferno inside. “Baghera, how many chainsaws did you make?”

The duck tilts her head. He can see her red-tinted eyes through the mask, and they crinkle in vindictive joy. “More than enough,” she coos, and Jaiden bumps her mask against hers, hello, clean, flock, hello. Phil croons out a yesyes. “Good. Very good.” He beckons her over, runs his claws through her hair-feathers lovingly. “You’ve become stronger. I’m proud of you. All of you.”

“Thanks Dad,” the duck hybrid whispers, preening under the praise. “Get ready,” Foolish warns. Phil doesn’t wince, doesn’t brace himself. Doesn’t care. “Jaiden,” he says, and the conure chirps in acknowledgment. “Taunt them. Trick them. Use every dirty tactic you can think of, I don’t care, this is no longer a fight. It’s retribution. Carré,” he turns to the warrior in the cat onesie, “I trust you. Put the fear of you in their hearts.” Carré gives a salute, sword gleaming in the dim light of their den. “Charlie, Foolish, literally go apeshit. Now’s the time.” Foolish laughs, eager, and Charlie’s codified parts glitch in anticipation. “Cellbit.” and the detective perks up. Phil flashes him a cruel smile. “Do what you do best,” he declares, and the Brazilian looks like Christmas came early.

Then red-hot iron slams against the skin of his back, and Phil lets out a gasp as his flesh starts to sizzle and burn. His talons dig deep into his own thighs in an attempt to distract himself from the pain, and the air smells like cooking meat. Cellbit starts howling first, the last of his sanity breaking when the smell hits his nostrils even through the mask, pupils dilating — like a shark smelling blood. The rest of them soon join in, screeching and laughing, too loud, too high-pitched and broken. Then Foolish removes the iron, and Philza almost falls over under the mixture of pain and relief. The rest of the flock rush over to support him, glancing at the result of Foolish’s hard work with barely disguised awe.

Angry red lines, bloody and bubbling, form the simplified shape of a gas mask right between the mangled remains of his ebony wings. A symbol of loyalty, devotion, belonging. (Pack, flock, family, murder.) “How’s it look?” the crow wheezing out, somehow still mustering the strength to make a joke out of his own agony. Jaiden flashes him a thumbs up. “Nice.”

“I want to go next,” Baghera pipes up, wings twitching with anticipation. Foolish nods, letting the others help Philza wobble away to let him recover for a minute. “Alright. Get over here then, sister.”

(There is no coming back after this, they all know that. Those marks would be here to stay, because self-inflicted scars don’t get erased by respawn, as some of them had found out over time. They all count on it.)

***

The trip is like a blur, partly because of the pain making their vision go hazy and, partly because the sky is red red red and it makes their minds fuzzy and time all wibbly-wobbly.

Charlie remembers hot desert sun hitting his shoulders and colouring them an angry red, Carré taking off his hood to breathe properly. He remembers Foolish carrying them through a freezing river, ice-cold water a temporary balm against the fresh burns in the center of his chest. (He doesn’t regret it. The pain is worth it. And the code infection is so cold, cold cold, the blazing heat radiating from the brand mark is almost soothing in comparison.) He remembers Baghera, limping the whole way, yet refusing any help. Pushing herself further than she ever has to keep up with them. Refusing to be a burden, refusing to drag them down. “I’m fine,” she would say, brushing her feathers over the mark on her right hip. “I’m fine.”

The sky is red, everything is. The blood-fog rolls in, or maybe it’s the toxic gas disaster. They can’t tell, with the masks that keep them breathing and tinted lenses painting the landscape crimson. They press on, helping each other whenever one falls, because their armors might be shit still despite yesterday’s grind, and they might have nothing. But they have each other.

When they finally find Blue, it doesn’t quite feel like catharsis. Not yet. All seven of them loom over their location - Pierre, Bad, Tubbo. (A shame. A shame he was here. He’d tried, they all knew that. But it hadn’t been enough.) They can’t see Pac anywhere, but given the few death messages that popped into global chat earlier, Phil can take a guess at what happened. (Note to self: extend an invitation to the Brazilian later.) No words are exchanged (quiet, quiet, don’t get spotted), only quick glances and flexing talons and flashes of teeth hidden beneath rubber masks. The sun hits their backs (it hurts, for Phil and Cellbit, who has chosen to place his own brand in the small of his back. He’s forsaken armor for this, he wants to feel every slash and tear, he wants to feel something, anything), their shadow-cast silhouettes stark against the red skies.

(They are pack, scavengers. They are eager to sink their teeth into writhing flesh and sharpen their claws on picked-clean bones.)

Philza raises an arm when Bad spots them, immediately barking out orders at Pierre and Tubbo, who doesn’t look like much of a leader at the moment. (What a shame. He deserved better.) The flock tenses, talons and claws digging into loose dirt, eerie growling and giggling and Charlie’s eager ‘how about now? can we go, please, dad?’

The Angel of Death looks down as his children. He lets his arm fall, and six shadows take off and rush downhill in a cacophony of barks and howls and cackling, hyena-like laughter.

Cellbit can see nothing at all, blinded by burning demon blood in his eyes, in his mouth, in his hair and beard. His knife digs into something soft and warm, someone screams, doesn’t know who. Something trips him and his head hits the ground, stunning him, and a sword stabs him in the shoulder and he laughs, ripping it out to roll away, uncaring of the copious amount of blood he’s losing. He hears the revving of an engine nearby, and wipes the blue liquid out of his eyes just in time to see Baghera slice at Pierre with her chainsaw, severing bone and tendons from his left shoulder to his right hip. Blood and viscera fall out of the gaping wound as he chokes, impossibly blue eyes widening, and then his body falls and the chime of death-respawn rings out over the battlefield. One. 

“First kill!” Carré woops, blocking strike after strike from a hissing Bad. “My turn now,” he grins, feral and they all know he’s the only human here how could a human feel so much like them, and his legs do a thing none of them can comprehend but he’s behind the demon now, thrusting his blade forward and into a groove in the fiend’s diamond armor. Chime. Bad falls, dead before his body hits the ground. Two. The Argentinian Beast swipes to the side, ridding his blade of sickly blue liquid. His sleeve creeps back up his arm, revealing the bottom of their symbol. “Mejórate, noob.”

“Oh SHIT!” Jaiden cackles, busy carving out the inside of Tubbo’s ribcage like a halloween pumpkin. “Carré’s out for blood, we love to see it.”

“Where’s Pac?” Cellbit grumbles, teeth around someone’s liver. Foolish rushed back from respawn, waving at them cheerfully, and bodies an incoming Pierre to the ground to bash his head against a rock until his skull gives and splits in half like a watermelon. “Uuuuh, dunno! Why, wanna eat his other leg?”

“Maybe.”

“Be nice,” Baghera pouts, beak splattered in red as she discards her broken saw, only to summon a fresh one from her inventory. She looks down at it with motherly fondness. “He did kill Bad earlier. And he lost Mike, and my brother. I say we leave him be.”

“Mmmh. Careful, here comes BitchBoy.”

“Oh, hello,” the duck chirps, evading a strike from Bad’s scythe. “Did you miss me, Bébou?” she giggles, thrusting her saw forward and cutting through the demon’s armor like it’s butter. Bad lets out a frustrated what the FUDGE before the blades pierce through the enchantments and through his belly. Chime. “I don’t know if I missed you,” she hums, throws her machine away, summons a new one. “I’m still thinking about it.”

Jaiden howls at her, Foolish barks, and all of them devolve into throat-tearing screams as their clothes soak up all the red, red above, red below, red, red. Philza climbs up a tower and swoops in, deadly precise, skewers another Tubbo that just showed up. “You should really give it a rest, mate,” he hums without an ounce of aggressivity, sitting on the lad’s chest as he wheezes out his last breath. “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.”

“Can’t—” the goat hybrid chokes, bloody foam bubbling out of his mouth as his lungs fill up with fluid. “I’m. Tina. Nikki, Missa.” The name makes Phil blink. “Can’t… abandon them.”

“Suit yourself,” the Crowfather shrugs, then plants his blade into his former protégé’s neck with nary a sound. Chime.

Chime. 

Chime. 

Chime. 

They don’t always win, far from it. Chime . But they don’t care, losing themselves in the cycle of fight-kill-die-respawn-run-fight. Chime. Even when their resources run out, when they have nothing left but their own hands to fight with, they still come, again and again, moved by the collective desire to make them pay. They get less and less kills, armors and weapons gone, their own bodies piling up in a grotesque display. Chime. Chime. Chime. Blue Team tries to run and hide, but Jaiden and Foolish sniff them out like a pair of bloodhounds, always on their tail as the rest of the flock follows. The hours trickle, too slow yet too fast, and Blue is now winning because they kill them a lot more often than Red kills them, but they don’t give a single shit about that stupid bar made up but a stupid eyeball thing that they are done entertaining because THEIR FUCKING FRIENDS AND FAMILY ARE DEAD.

They rip, and tear, and bite when nothing else works anymore. Everything hurts, repeated respaws and the brand mark making their bodies stumble and fall and shake and seize against the cold dirt, making them easy targets. But they keep fighting.

Cellbit starts crying at some point, tears washing off the blood in twin lines on both his cheeks, and he repeats his husband’s nickname like some fucked up mantra as he stabs into Pierre’s chest over and over again, the engineer long dead. Yet he still keeps going, until Phil gently tears him away from the body to press his own bloody forehead against the Brazilian’s, letting him cling to his robes like the crow’s his last anchor to the mortal plane. Foolish and Jaiden come back, huffing, saying they’ve lost track of their target, and everyone stands still for a moment.

Phil’s commlink buzzes. He glances at it, spots something blue, turns it off. No more parlé, no more talks. “I think they’re done for today,” he sighs, helping Cellbit to his feet. “Let’s go back.”

“To the den?” Charlie asks, ripping off his mask to shake off stray pieces of viscera before putting it back on. His entire body is soaked in red, but Phil can spot some green beneath it. His code arm glitching erratically, but he barely seems to feel it. 

Philza nods. “To the nest.”

“Can we burn?” Baghera asks. Her voice is shot, just like after an intense session of karaoke. “I don’t wanna walk back. I wanna burn.”

“Me too,” Jaiden raises her hand, Charlie following suit. “Oooh, we should all do it,” the conure gasps, already piling up dead wood and whipping out her flint and steel. “It’s like a warpstone! But crispier.”

Maybe Phil should discourage that. But his bad knee hurts like a motherfucker, and what’s a little more agony after today. “Sure, fuck it.”

The pier lights up their surroundings as they dance their way into the flames, hot coal burning the soles of their feet. They briefly wonder if this is what witches did back in the day, before their last hearts are drained and they fall into the space-between-spaces, respawn mechanic spitting them out the other side and into the damp coolness of their cave-home-nest-den.

Their wounds are gone, as always. But not the brand, still pulsing with dull pain on each of their bodies. They all put ice on it, mechanically, minds already far away as their timer nears its end for the day.

None of them bother to clean up before it hits zero. The pack huddles into the nest together, blood-sticky and shaky and Cellbit is still sobbing, Jaiden’s arms around him while she croons and chirps, avian words eaten up by her own hiccuping sobs ( help, sad, sad, flock) , Charlie rubbing soothing circles into the cat hybrid’s back as he wails. Carré whispers praise and fighting tips to Baghera’s who’s only half-listening, wrapping up Dad’s sprained wing in a makeshift splint. Foolish sits close, humming absentmindedly as he finger-combs the knots and bits of flesh out of Jaiden’s long hair. “...You guys wanna move to Eggxile with me?” Charlie asks, drowsy and sluggish, Baghera’s hand-wing in his code-infected one. “When we go back. You can- you can take care of Flippa with me, if… you know. If this shit doesn’t work out.”

Jaiden laughs, wet and unstable. “I’d love that actually.”

“Your house has fumes in it,” Cellbit adds, so quiet it’s hard to make out. “I like that. It’s homey.”

“We can keep the masks there, it’s perfect,” Baghera approves, and Phil finds himself considering it because Charlie’s ramshackle house might be turning into code shit, but at least it’s far away, safe, away, away, and he doesn’t know if he can trust anyone outside his flock after this. Not stay on the wall, where everyone and their dog can show up unannounced. “Maybe,” he says.

Then their comms buzz, darkness claiming them quick.

[chaosandcrimson]

no way is that VIRGINIA ‘GINNY’ BENNETT.. they’re a 20-year-old SYNTH notoriously known for being SENSITIVE & GUARDED but there are some people who have seen them being SASSY & SELF-RELIANT. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of a leather jacket adorned with pins and patches, scrawling curse words onto the bathroom stall with permanent marker, and fighting with the only real parent you’ve ever known, but that could just be because they’re considered the TSUNDERE around town. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through..

Take me back when our world was one block wide I dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried Just two kids, you and I

OVERVIEW

Name: Virginia Naminé Bennett

Nickname(s): Ginny

DOB: November 14, 2104

Age: 20

FC: Mia Isaac

Height: 5'3"

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Student (Pre-Law) / Intern at Bishop and Associates

Relationship Status: Single (Closed)

[+] sassy, self-reliant, attentive [–] sensitive, cynical, guarded

BIOGRAPHY

tw: parental abandonment, stalking, harassment

Ginny was brought into the world by parents who had a very specific idea of the family that they wanted. For that reason, they chose to have only synth children, whom they requested be programmed with their list of desirable traits.

They were given the usual disclaimers about how synth programming was more akin to human genetics than to software, in that it could provide a predisposition toward certain traits, but did not guarantee that those traits would develop. They did not end up taking that disclaimer seriously despite numerous repetitions.

By the time that Ginny was 10 years old, she had deviated enough from how her parents had envisioned her to the point that they decided they no longer wanted her. She was picked up by a group of self-proclaimed experts in 'rehoming troubled children' and taken to one of their facilities in the lower district.

She spent about a month in their care before their operation was uncovered by a private investigator from Jones and Jones Investigations. Some of the children who had been with her had families who had reported them missing and whom they returned to. Others had relatives who could take them in.

Ginny ended up spending a lot of time at their offices while they were dealing with the aftermath of the case. It was there that she met their receptionist and a member of Citizen Uprising, Sam Bennett, who decided to adopt her.

For the next 5 years, Ginny lived with her adoptive mom and her mom's long-term boyfriend. He wasn't quite like a father to her, but the two of them bonded over having traumatic experiences and the deep-seated anger that they both felt. Since Sam and Taurus were both heavily involved in CU, she was often taken to meetings with them, which was how she met her best friend Roxas.

When she was 15 years old, her mother decided to leave Taurus after he brought explosives into their shared home. It was Ginny who discovered them, and while she still had that burning rage inside of her, and a part of her understood where he was coming from, she realised that she didn't agree with his methods. He did not end up taking the breakup or her disagreement particularly well.

It was when he showed up at Ginny's school that Sam took drastic measures to remove him from their lives. She quit her job at Jones and Jones Investigations, left Citizen Uprising, and ultimately filed a restraining order against him.

Ginny has remained active in Citizen Uprising in spite of how her mother feels about it. It has become a source of frequent disagreement between them, with Sam expressing concern for Ginny's safety, and Ginny expressing the belief that not getting involved is tantamount to being complicit. It often ends with Ginny storming out of the house and slamming the door behind her.

At one point, she ignored Roxas for two days because he said that he thought her mother was right about something. He finally managed to get her to talk to him by showing up at her house, not to see her, but to hang out with her mom.

For the past year, her mom has been in a relationship with Fox Vos, whom she often confides in about their disagreements. He is the one person who can get her to meet Sam in the middle because she feels like he actually listens to her side of the argument. She isn't quite at the point of calling him dad, but she has definitely thought about it more than once, and she does consider him family.

MISC

-

[murdcrofcrows]

stats • pinterest • connections

full name: dominika armenevna volkov nicknames: dom, domi, nika gender / pronouns: cis woman, she/her age & birthday: 30, october 25th occupation: principal ballerina, new york ballet company gang affiliation: burning gods, soldier orientation & status: pansexual kinsey scale - 2, widow strengths: enchanting, charismatic, dedicated weaknesses: manipulative, selfish, bitter

diving deeper -

*     ◟    :    〔   mia goth  ,      cis woman    +   she/her    〕      DOMINIKA VOLKOV ,      some say you’re a  THIRTY YEAR OLD  lost soul among the neon lights.      known for being both  ENCHANTING and MANIPULATIVE,  one can’t help but think of  HORNS  by   bryce fox  when you walk by.    are you still a    SOLDIER / PRINCIPAL BALLERINA at    BURNING GODS / NEW YORK BALLET COMPANY,     even with your reputation as THE MOUNTEBANK?     i think we’ll be seeing more of you and FLAVORED LIP GLOSS THAT GLISTENS IN THE LIGHT , A SMOOTH RUSSIAN ACCENT THAT FLOWS THROUGH THE AIR LIKE A WHISP, BLOOD DROPS ON SOFT PINK SATIN  ,    although we can’t help but think of LOVE QUINN (YOU), MIA WALLACE (PULP FICTION), MADDY PEREZ (EUPHORIA)   whenever we see you down these rainy streets. 

BACKGROUND.

tw: death, murder

born in russia to an influential family both politically and in the criminal world. dominika was spoiled despite the strict expectations set forward for her.

private schools, home tutoring, dance classes to teach her balance and coordination before she could begin pointe at eleven years old. along with etiquette classes she was taught defense, basic weapons and combat training, and things to do in the event of a kidnapping or other similar instances.

in a power grab, people were hired to take out the entire volkov family. unfortunately, they were mostly successful. as far as dominika knows, she is the only surviving member.

a close family associate who did both security and odd jobs for the volkovs came to the moscow academy of choreography which dominika had been enrolled in since she was young, only returning home for school breaks. the associate informed her of what had happened and insisted on hiding her until they could safely get her out of the country.

the academy helped hide her until they could develop a suitable plan, traveling and devoted volkov friends when rumors would get too hot about her existence or attempts were made on her life.

eventually, they were able to devise a foolproof plan through a matchmaking company - she would travel to new york city and be the wife a wealthy older man. dominika did not tell the others when making said plan that she had no intention of staying married to the man, but her private plans were simply none of their business.

she thanked the family associate and the academy for their above and beyond service and made her way to america. while she awaited her green card and other documents, dominika became a dutiful wife when she wasn't dancing for the new york ballet company. she even managed to get herself put into the man's will which, admittedly, was her plan all along.

normally, dominika tries to keep her hands clean when it comes to violence and disposing of loose ends but every so once and awhile it is necessary. her husband had served his purpose and was worth more to her dead than alive. she treated him well for their time spent together, it was only fair that she be compensated for that time and service.

she played the part of a grief stricken widow for the allotted time she felt she had to. further using her skills to continue building on the inheritance left to her by gathering information, playing the stock market, and draining unsuspecting target's bank accounts.

these skills were noticed by the burning gods organization when she'd tried, and nearly succeeded, using her tactics on one of their own. instead of retaliating, they offered her a position and she's been with them ever since.

dominika plans to rise to the top in the organization some day. she continues to be happy with her position in the ballet company, both enjoying dancing and performance along with the access it gives her to more wealthy members of society. when she's not on stage she transforms into who she needs to be to get a job done or spends her time finding ways to stay entertained throughout the city.

she continues to look for more information on the people responsible for killing her family and ways to remove the current family who took their place. out of principal and revenge, though she has no intention of ever returning to russia.

QUICK CONNECTIONS.

friends, social group

friends of the volkov family

missing/not dead volkov sibling or cousin

rivals

casual encounters/exes

romantic potential

a confidant or two

people to do her dirty work for her when needed

security detail

HEADCANONS.

she is looking for a way to get a retractable metal nails type weapon but is picky and very specific about it.

while not liking to participate in violence unless she has to, she thoroughly enjoys watching it and you can often find her at fighting events.

more to be added

[specsbeloved]

OC INTRODUCTIONS!! [noobsies au] pt 1/2

ELODIE HUTCHINSON (Queenie/queeny) Age: 18 Sexuality: unlabelled gender/pronouns: Cis female. she/her height: 5'9 looks: blue eyes, freckles, blonde(??) she dyes it a lot. naturally a brunette but would still be blonde in canon era.

Interests: theatre, skating, cooking, driving and music. Romance??: Specs’ gf. Ik. very mature of me to make my oc date my blorbos. Bestie: Splasher is her bestie. Ride or die. Womb to tomb.

Canon era: She is from queens!! Hence the nickname!! She ruled queens with on of finchs (sk1ttery) many ocs. When specs, skit and bumlets all went to queens to recruit the queens newsies they had to face her and quill. Els is known to be quite stubborn, cocky and loud. On good terms with brooklyn. Has had multiple run-ins with the law but always talks her way out of it or just bolts away. Learned German from an older newsie when she was very young. Tends to hop between burroughs avoiding the law and meeting up with her besties from around the city.

Modern era/noobsies era: Again from queens, but moved to hattan when she was 16/17. She also lived in england for a while when she was younger leaving her with a partial accent. Met all of the hattan bunch via school but was not friends due to her incredibly awkward nature. She and Splash often sat together in the corner of each class. Specs and her were both down bad from the get go but it became excruciating during the rehearsals of mamma mia in which they were cast as sophie and sky. (I have written a fic of the events during rehearsals). About a month after they started dating some bad home stuff happened leaving her badly injured and homeless. She ended up at the specs house which then took her in and refused to let her leave knowing she had nowhere else to go. She still lives with them all to this day.

When splash moved away from queens the two separated but when els moved to hattan she got dragged around with the Brooklyn lot. Els was one of the Brooklyn lots get away drivers for this period and has a good bond with most members. Hotshot birthed the nickname queenie for her and is one of her closer friends from the group as well as graves.

Her Background (tw: abuse, alcohol, manipulation?? Nothing detailed dw) No siblings. She was an only child with no grandparents. Her father was physically and mentally abusive and her mother was neglectful. The night she went to specs there was a particularly bad situation between her and her dad. Els spent most of her free time alone or with splasher, practically growing up with him. Her father was an alcoholic and els also briefly developed this addiction as well before splasher and graves dragged her out of it. (they.)

Deep down els is a sweetheart and will show it in her own time. She loves to care for her friends whether that's by helping them when they don't feel good, buying them presents, cooking for them or “dealing” with a shitty parent/family. Protecting others is always her priority and she usually does this through brute force. Despite this she is a big softie and her love languages are physical affection and quality time. 

[findopulencerp]

                            𝖒𝖎𝖆 𝖒𝖈𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖘

she was born twenty-six years ago, she is a werewolf who lives in dillon as a student, and is in sumerki orda. she looks an awful lot like kathryn newton

“Reality is for people that lack imagination.”

tw: gun mention, violence, death Mia was a surprise baby. When she was born, her other siblings would soon be somewhat functioning adults living on their own, and her childhood had been lonely because of it. An oddball of the family, her mother always referred to her as her little firecracker. Her family loved the small community, but it nearly bored Mia to death. It wasn’t hard to be a firecracker in the sleepy little town that she grew up in, that was located in northern Montana. Most of her early memories consist of her trying to let her family see her as an adult and let her venture out on her own.

The dream was to go to an Ivy league school and leave the small town she’d been stuck in her whole life behind. Mia exceled in school, though she never bragged about her grades. It was simply her ticket out of there. She craved excitement and adventure, but she didn’t want to move under the circumstance she had and Mia would grow to regret not living in the moment and enjoying what she had.

One warm summer night changed everything. The pack wasn’t a threat. They liked to keep to themselves, but fear makes people do imaginable things. Hunters were a prime example. There was no warning, only sudden screams of terror as the massacre began. Gun fire echoed through the air and she remembered how her heart raced as her and her older brother raced to safety so they could keep their lives. The rest of the night was blurry and that is how she prefers it stay.  Mia tries not to think of the events that night, though suffers from the occasional night terror.

Neither of them was the same after their pack was nearly annihilated. In one day, what was left of their lives was packed up and they’d moved to Opulence for a fresh start. They were supposed to be safe there. At least, that is what her brother continuously told Mia.

Living under her brother’s care, Mia graduated from Highschool, though she didn’t make it easy on him. Tormenting him with boys and any rebellious activity she could find. Even to this day, she goes out of her way to deliberately bug him as she continuous to live with him while attending her last year of college. Instead of her Ivy League school, she settled for the University nearby to stay close to her only remaining family member.

“what power did she attain when settling in opulence?”

Mia is an empath. Auras started shining around people when she stepped foot in Opulence. At first, she didn’t understand it and ignored it, but as she gotten older, she has investigated more and has become comfortable with it.

this character is…retired

[smallmxgic]

nathan rhys

BASICS

FULL NAME: jonathan sebastian rhys NICKNAME(S): nathan, nate (only by his aunt & uncle), johnny (only (rarely) by shannon) AGE: 25 DATE OF BIRTH: june 1st ZODIAC SIGN: gemini PLACE OF BIRTH: seattle, washington ETHNICITY: white NATIONALITY: american GENDER: cis male SEXUAL ORIENTATION: asexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic RELIGION: neopagan OCCUPATION: self-employed tech consultant LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, german ACCENT: western american

APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: reilly dolman HAIR COLOR: blonde EYE COLOR: blue HEIGHT: 5'11" WEIGHT: 175 lbs BUILD: bulky, but not muscular or overweight TATTOOS: two stars on his left shoulder, lion on back of right calf, sun/moon/star triangle on the inside of his right wrist [x] PIERCINGS: left nostril, both earlobes, right industrial DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: tattoos

PERSONALITY

POSITIVES: friendly, curious, intelligent, focused NEGATIVES: indecisive, hesitant, bouts of energy, a bit of a perfectionist LIKES: computers, dogs, tea, sushi, anything fantasy DISLIKES: being in the middle of big crowds, coffee, being interrupted, most board games, being called ‘jonathan/john’

FAMILY

FATHER: unknown MOTHER: mia rhys AUNT: stephanie huber (legal guardian) UNCLE: andreas huber (legal guardian) SIBLING(S): none PET(S): a rottweiler named hans FINANCIAL STATUS: upper middle class

BIOGRAPHY

tw: drug abuse/addiction mentions nathan’s mother was a heroin addict, his father just some random john– nothing more than a sperm donor as far as he or his aunt & uncle are concerned. because of his mother’s drug use, nathan was born addicted to heroin, just like she was. unlike Mia, however, he escaped that life immediately; kept at the hospital for nearly four months after his birth to detox & become healthy. during that time, mia disappeared– probably went back to her old habits– & her sister stepped in to take care of her newborn nephew. stephanie, along with her husband andreas (a german immigrant), raised nathan as if he were their own son. he was raised knowing they were his aunt & uncle, his mother flitting in & out of his life. (it turns out, after she disappeared from the hospital, she was in & out of rehab centers all around northern washington, always trying, but never succeeding, in overcoming her addiction. in time, though, she does eventually beat it for good, allowing nathan to start building a relationship with his mom.) one thing nathan was known for growing up was fidgeting. he always needed something to do with his hands. his aunt & uncle tried dozens of different things to help hone in that extra energy, & nothing seemed to work. until they stuck nathan in front of a computer with his uncle (who works with computers & code) one day & the pre-teen was enthralled. in what seemed like no time nathan picked up everything there is to know about computers– software & hardware. in an obvious move, nathan kept with it & now has his own tech consultant business that he runs with mike, contracting out their skills to whoever needs it.

VERSES

v;; when tech & magic cooperate (witch)

as a kid, the trio discover their innate abilities to hone & use magic. unsurprising to anyone, nathan’s strengths lie in the manipulation of technology, & there is very little he can’t do to or with anything that has a circuit board.

v;; computer extraordinaire (human)

all the same, just without the magic

v;; clan nelson (mcu)

instead of being a rhys in seattle, nathan & his mother are nelsons, a small part of a large, family-oriented clan in new york city. after his birth & mia’s disappearance, nurses reached out to one of her many relatives in the city & it wasn’t long before a hoard of family members showed up at the hospital to take care of the newest member of the nelson clan. growing up surrounded by cousins, there is one in particular that nathan gravitates towards: franklin. being nine years older, nathan looks up to him & they certainly grow close as he gets older. with so much support & growing up in hell’s kitchen, nathan is much more outgoing, more sure of himself, still full of sunshine & radiating happiness, & finds his love for computers thanks to one of his teachers. after graduating from m.i.t., nathan lands a job at rand industries as a computer technician, though he can be found doing side jobs for anyone & everyone that needs it. (& if he happens to show up at his cousin’s law firm to help fix a computer once in a while or to grab lunch, so be it.)

[we-are-savages]

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