#but the amount of times I have had the conversation switched away from whatever I was excited to be a coincidence

[kittytheroseofkirea]

you know, there's this thing. (queue ramble about nonsense) I learned a long time ago that most people don't want me to start blabbing non stop about whatever thing I am reading or have decided is my thing. Which means that because I think in stories, or maybe patterns (jury is out), I don't talk a lot, period. Which means it is incredibly hard to get me to just talk. But once I get started, it's hard to get me to stop. But this does mean that when I want to talk about something, I have to decide if it's on the Acceptable Things to Talk About List (this list is varied and skewed by little traumas) and if it is, how much do I really need to talk about it, and can it go on any of my various talking to myself spaces. If it is both Approved and something someone might care about, I have to be very cautious when engaging someone in a conversation to see if they actually care or are willing to talk about it. Option 1: they are! We have a great conversation (I hope) where I get to talk about my current special interest (which will vary day to day, depending on what I have been reading, see the "thinks in stories" thing) Option 2: they are only interested for a short time, and I get full of way too much energy and excitement, only to be cut off when the person walks away, because I misjudged and they don't actually care. I hate it when this happens, because I have all this energy/ excitement over being able to finally being able to talk about my thing, and now there's nowhere for it to go. (I am still learning healthy ways to dissipate this energy when this scenario happens)

So, most of the time I don't talk much. I don't believe people care what I have to say, so why say anything. This does mean that I am an amazing listener, because I don't want this to happen to other people.

Downside is that I can't be asked to talk about stuff, because in social situations I don't know how to talk about my interests because I haven't had much practice since probably early Junior High.

It does mean, however, that I pull fairy tales apart to decide what elements are required for certain stories, and then I obsess over that quietly for a while.

This doesn't mean anything, none of it does. but it's a thought I had, and this is the platform of choice for me to talk at myself today.

[angelicqsa]

.ೃ࿐ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 | 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 3, 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖯𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 | 𝖥𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌𝗌𝗌!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

“ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ”, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀɪᴅ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴀꜱ, ɪᴛ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ.” – ᴅᴀᴠɪᴅ ʟᴇᴠɪᴛʜᴀɴ

────────────˚🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡���────────────

Being with bellamy was everything to me. You two were a perfect picture couple, ever since yall met; on the dropship the first day the 100 came down, you and Bellamy had chemistry. Despite you not liking his 'whatever the hell we want' motto you decide to give him a chance, and to let him in your heart. Since then its been nothing but pure bliss and a strong feeling of content. He'd always hold you and whisper sweet nothings and treat you like someone. And for once in your life you felt like you was important to someone, and you felt like you had meaning in life which is something you had never felt before. But now, its as if a summertime sadness has hit.

When Pike and Bellamy had been having these hush conversations he started acting a little off and the soft love touches were soon replaced with intense stares. It was as if a switch had flipped in him, a battle with dark vs light and the dark took over the light inside him. He walks out of the bathroom into your shared room and you ask, "Is everything okay Bellamy? You're acting a little off. You can talk to me you know?" You whisper as he climbs into bed and just stares at me as if i said nothing.

With a gruff sound he responds in a monotone way, "I'm fine. Just some stuff with Pike and Kane." he turns his back towards me before you could even respond he turns off his lamp on his side of the bed. Feeling disappointment wash through me, you turn off my lamp and let out a sigh then turn your back on him and lay there, with him consuming your last thoughts for the night.

That was about a week ago and since then, Pike has became the chancellor with Bellamy's help, Bellamy keeps distancing himself farther and farther away from you it's a contrast to how just a few weeks ago you two were a perfect couple, laughing together, secretly running off, fixing the cars together and just overall enjoying each others company. Everything has changed.

You finish up my work in the library, fixing books and collecting books that were once borrowed. You walk to the bar spotting Jasper, "Hey Jasper. How you holdin' up?" You ask curiously as you pull up a seat next to him. you were secretly hoping he wouldn't blame me for Maya's death for the 15th time in the past month which of course you felt somewhat guilty about, but you're aware that it wasn't you who killed her, and the ones responsible held an immense amount of guilt, not only for her, but for all the victims.

"Hey.." Jasper says drunkenly, while nodding off. He had bags under his eyes as if he never sleeps, which could be possibles considering the grief he was feeling. His grief and his drinking go hand in hand, everytime you see Jasper he's either drunk or on his way to being drunk. It was sad seeing your friend destroy himself.

"How are you tod-" You quickly get cut off to Lincoln being dragged out of medical by one of Pike's goons while angrily cursing at them in Trigedasleng.

"What the fuck is going on!?" You rush over to the scene while looking at Lincoln getting dragged away and you spot Bellamy standing next to Pike without a care in the world that Lincoln; one of his friends, was getting dragged out.

You rush over to Bellamy, anger quickly filling my veins you grab his wrist and mutter to Pike "Can you excuse us for a moment?" you don't even give him a chance to respond before dragging Bellamy to our room.

He looks confused when you first started dragging him, "Hey! what's wrong!" You ignore him.

He tries again and says, "Why are you angrily dragging me like i did something wrong?" Again. Silence.

He sighs angrily and says, "Now you're ignoring me!?" You simply roll your eyes, still angry and stay silent.

"Im so confused! What did i do!?"

The last sentence was shouted as soon as you hit the door and you soon as you shut the door the anger in you swells, the anger that has been continuously increasing these past few weeks that you ultimately end up ejecting at Bellamy with full force.

"Are you fucking serious right now Bellamy!? 'What did i do', 'What did i do wrong?' You fucking know what you did wrong!," Bellamy looks at you in surprise at the burst of anger you just threw at him and tries to interject,

"Is this about Lincoln? I really coul-" You hold your hand up as a sign for him to stop talking and also yell,

"Im not fucking finished talking Bellamy! Im gonna talk and you're gonna fucking listen! I've been feeling like shit for these past few weeks! You've been cold towards me. You've been putting Pike and your loyalty before your loyalty to your friends whos been with you when we were dropped on this planet to die! I-.. I don't know who you are anymore Bellamy, it truly hurts to say that." You feel a pool form in your eyes as you explode, your emotions feel all over the place and you can almost see how this is gonna end. And the 'end' that formed in your mind wasn't a happy ending.

Bellamy looks at you, his eyes soft, opposite to the rough and intense eyes you'd been getting these past few weeks. Bellamy opens his mouth then quickly closes it processing what you had said.

He whispers, scared that an increase of volume might get his heart broken. "Im sorry, i- i didnt mean to make you feel like that. I had no idea you felt like that."

The tears fall down your face as if youre a window on a rainy day, you look down deep in thought and prepare for the answer you might get for this next question. "Do you love me anymore Bellamy?" You say as your voice cracks. You're too afraid to look at his expression, but suddenly you feel his fingers on your chin forcing you to look up at him. He looks broken, he also had tears in his eyes.

"You think i don't love you...? How- How could you think that? I live my life for you. Anywhere you go i go. You've became a big part of my life and showed me what being truly loved is like. I love you always and forever, and i promise ill do everything to make you feel the love i feel for you." He says while crying in guilt for making her ever feel that way. How could he make her feel like that? This girl is the love of his life. The person he wanted to spend all his years with and build a family with.

"I love you Bellamy. So so much." you smile while connecting my forehead with his. "We'll get through this together." you kiss him passionately, all the anger already gone and replaced with love and happiness. See this is the boy you fell in love with.

You two passionately kiss and the kiss progressively gets deeper and more needy. He back away first, breathlessly he says, "Can i show you how much i love you? Baby let me worship you."

You nod your head and kiss him again before he picks you up and you yelp in surprise. "Maybe a warning next time" You giggle as he places you on the bed and starts to move his hands around your body making sure to touch everywhere.

Your body tingles as you feel his hands all over you. He towers over you and kisses you slowly before moving to your neck and making sweet love spots.

'Mmm Bell..' You mutter as he licks and sucks, those mutters eventually turn into moans.

"You gotta keep it down baby. Can you do that for me?" He asks as he pauses from sucking your neck. You nod and he proceeds.

You feel the warmth on your neck suddenly disappear and then you feel your pants being slid off slowly and look down to see Bellamy making eye contact while playing with your panties.

"You're so gorgeous.. how'd i get so lucky?" He says. He then rises up and removes your shirt, exposing your bra. He ends up taking that off and looking at your boobs as if he's seen a million dollars. He starts sucking on one of your nipples while kneading the other one in his hand. You whimper at the blissful sensations while making eye contact with him which just increases the nectar coming out your pussy.

He kisses the nipple he had just been sucking on and moves on to the next one making you bite your lip in pleasure whining at the good sensation.

He then moves to the valley of your breast and starts making open mouthed kisses down to the part where your panties were. He mumbles "These shouldnt be on" and rips them off.

"Hey! i liked those!" You say gasping as you feel the air on your vagina.

"Theres plenty more baby." He says while looking at you with a smirk. He then licks a long strip from your clit down to my entrance. "You're getting my fingers and my tongue today ok baby?" He says while breathing hard out his nose. You love how he still was somewhat dominant even when its supposed to be soft and him worshipping your body you still love the sense of dominance he brings.

"Yes baby thats ok." You whimper out while looking at him with anticipation. He attacks your clit first, circling your clit slowly before sucking which he repeats for a minute. He then places open mouthed kisses on your vagina as he did when he was working on your chest.

You moan at the sensations feeling it deep inside your core almost close to coming. But you didn't want to come that quick and have the night be over with already. You arch your back into his tongue while he licks and suck as if you vagina was a lollipop. You felt close and felt pure bliss ignoring the words he had once muttered earlier 'you gotta keep it down baby' well being cautious of your volume was long gone as soon as his tongue made contact with your clit.

He sucks on your clit which brings you closer to the edge. "F-fuck Bell.. im-im close!" You struggle to say, lost in the sensations and tingles your body was feeling. One last lick did the trick for you and you cum all over his tongue. He smirks and groans as he feels your hot cum. He swallows it before coming back up to kiss you, and when you kiss him you taste yourself all over his lips and tongue.

"Your moans sound amazing, i want more out of you.." He says softly before going back down and sticking a finger inside of you making you moan loudly as you arch your back with your lips parted and your eyes magically shut as he pumps in and out of you. You moan loudly calling out his name as if he was a god.

And that was how you night ended. Feeling worshiped and cared about by the man you love most. But everyone else the next day had heard you being worshiped and you calling our Bellamy's name. An embarrassment but with a good outcome.

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 🤍

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐яєqυєѕт!

─────────⋆˚࿔ 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐪𝐬𝐚𝜗𝜚˚⋆─────────

[ponyosmom35]

he's gone

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

synopsis: reader finds out that Simon passed when Price, Johnny, and Gaz show up at her house.

warnings: angst, death, PTSD, panic attack, crying, I'm so sorry

Link to master list:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She holds her hose tightly in her hand as she sprays her blooming flowers with water. The sun was beginning to set and she felt at peace. Allowing her mind to wash away the stress of the day. The sunlight hits her face and she sighs, imaging that somewhere in the world, Simon was looking at the same beautiful sky. She recalled their conversation earlier that day, a small smile coming to her lips as she remembered his voice. 

She stood in the kitchen, intensely focused on her measuring cup as she attempted to fill it with the correct amount of water. She turns off the water after allowing it to reach ⅓ and carefully moves over to her mixing bowl. She dumps the water in and moves the mixer down, flipping the switch and watching as her kitchen aid whips the cake mix together. The loud noise drowns out the sound of her phone ringing and she carries on. A few minutes later she finishes putting the batter into a pan and throws it into the oven, hoping that a lemon cake would distract her from how much she missed Simon. She looks down at her small ragdoll kitten who plays with her feet and laughs, she picks him up and kisses his little face gently. Still deciding how she was gonna come clean about adopting a pet without permission. 

It had been two weeks since he’d gone. So far she’d been doing better than she expected, managing to keep herself quite busy all day. It was the nights that were the hardest. She struggled to sleep without him. She tried to pretend like her body pillow was the same, but nothing could beat the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. When she came across a post about the little guy needing a home, she volunteered without a second thought. 

He was quite good about calling, he would try to call every other day when in between missions. But as they got new intel he wouldn’t be able to reach out for several days at a time. This week she had not heard from him once. She knew he was going on their first mission.  She worried about him, she knew that he could handle himself, better than anyone in the world. 

She picks up her phone to set a timer when she realizes she’d missed his call. Her heart drops and she calls him back instantly. 

“Si?” she asks anxiously 

“Hi my love” 

“Oh thank god, I thought something may have happened. I’m so sorry I didn’t hear my phone I was baking and it was on silent” 

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t expect you to pick up every time I call”

“Of course I will” she says 

“How are you doing darling?”

“I’m doing good, I decided to bake a cake for whatever reason” she says staring at the mess of flower and egg shells on the counter.

Simon chuckles and leans back in his chair as he imagines her in the kitchen trying to bake. Tears fill his eyes and he attempts to keep his voice steady.

“Is my kitchen still standing?” he asks

“The kitchen smells wonderful thank you very much” she responds 

“What have you been up to this week? Catch me up” 

“I wanna talk about you, where have you been the past week? Are you any closer to coming home? How are you doing? How are the boys?” she says rapid firing her questions 

“We’re all good. But I don’t wanna talk about work, tell me about you distract me” 

She nods to herself, understanding that he didn’t want to talk about it, meaning that their mission didn’t go as planned. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“just talk to me baby, anything” 

“Well it’s been pretty gloomy today so I started reading a new book, it’s about grief. I’ve only read a few chapters but so far it’s been very reassuring and comforting to know that grief isn’t linear, you go through ups and downs just like anything else”

“That sounds wonderful love” 

“Yeah, so I’m gonna try and read for a few minutes everyday. Kylie and I have started a jazzercise class, you should see how awful I am. I can’t look at myself in the mirror because in my mind I’m absolutely killing it, but then I look at the mirror and it looks like i’m half dead” she laughs 

“I’d pay anything to see it” 

“Don’t worry, when you come home you’re gonna get a full performance” she promises, causing him to laugh. The lump in his throat is tightening as the tears fall down his cheeks. He runs his hands through his hair and covers the speaker as he sniffles. 

“I’m counting down the minutes” 

“Me too” she muses “so I think we should get a cat” 

“What?” he asks

“Let me rephrase that, I brought home a kitten last week”

“Did you now?” he chuckles 

“Before you freak out, he’s so cute and cuddly, he was abandoned and my friend found him but she couldn't take care of him, I just had to bring him home!” she defends herself 

“I’m not mad love, I’m glad you’ve got someone to keep you company. What's his name?”

“Junie”

“Why Junie?” 

“Because june is the month we met” she admits 

Simon puts the phone down and covers his face. His heart was crushing at her words. He receives a knock on the door, he wipes his eyes and picks the phone back up. “I love it”

“We’re about an hour out from departure, so I’m gonna have to let you go” he says slipping his mask over his face.

“Okay, please be safe”

“I love you more than anything in this world, take care of yourself okay?” 

“Of course Si, I love you too, call me as soon as you can”

“goodbye love” he says before hanging up the phone. 

She noticed his odd behavior that morning, but decided to let it go to prevent any unnecessary anxiety. She finishes watering the plants and turns off the hose. She walks to the steps and heads inside. She shuts the door, making sure to lock the door as well as placing the wood down to prevent it from being opened easily. She slips off her shoes and smiles at the sight of Junie sitting on the counter. She picks him up and holds him close. The sound of a knock at the door catches her attention. She wasn’t aware of any company. She walks over to the door and opens it to see John, Kyle, and Johnny. Her eyes travel to the British flag held in John’s hands and her smile falls.  

“John?” she asks as her brain struggles to process the situation. 

“y/n-”

“Don’t you dare” she warns holding her hand up to stop him “don’t” 

“He’s gone lass” Johnny says, his teary eyes meeting her own. She shakes her head and glares at him. 

“I just talked to him this morning” she refuses 

“Mission was local, went south and we barely got out. We came here as soon as we could” 

“What happened to him?” she asks, crossing her arms, clearly still in shock from the news.

“Can we come in?” John asks, she nods and leads them into the living room where they sit and she remains standing. 

“Tell me john” 

“Why don’t you sit down” he responds 

“I want to know what happened!” she demands 

“He was hit” Kyle says 

“Where?” she asks, Price shakes his head and stands up, moving over to her and placing the flag in her hands. She notices the tags placed neatly in the center of it and she reads his printed name. She looks up at him as tears fill her eyes. 

“He’s not gone, I just talked to him today! He was telling me not to burn the kitchen down -” she cuts herself off with a sob, and holds her hand to her mouth. “We’re getting married in four months”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, I-I wish I could’ve saved him” Price says gently

“Please don’t say that” she begs

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” he asks gently 

“Stop this john I can’t - I can’t” she says setting his things down on the table as she looks out of the window. Tears stream down her face as she attempts to control her breathing. 

“These are for you” Johnny says, handing her a bundle of letters, each of them addressed to her. There is a small box on the top of the pile. 

Her vision blurs at the sight of his handwriting. Her body becomes weak as two words loop in her mind. Her body falls to the floor as the voices of the three men fade away. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. The man she loved with every fiber of her being. Her Simon. Simon who nearly killed the person who disrespected her. Simon who held her when her sister died. Simon who saved her life. Simon, who built her a bookshelf, redid her entire deck and porch. Never again would he give her one of his bear hugs. She wouldn’t hear his beautiful laugh, or watch the way he separated his food to keep it from touching. No more early morning cuddles, kisses, silly arguments. How would she live without him? What she wouldn’t have given to hear his deep voice in that moment, telling her that it was going to be okay. He couldn't. He was gone. 

She was inconsolable, her heart wrenching sobs echoed through the house. Bringing tears to the eyes of the soldiers surrounding her. Johnny was at her side, holding her shaking body, trying his best to bring her even the smallest bit of comfort. He felt sick to his stomach watching her writhe in pain. 

John had called her parents and the trio waitied with her until they arrived. As soon as John opened the door, they recognized him from the day he brought the news about Emma. Her mother gasps and hurries into the house, seeing her daughter crumpled on the ground, agonizing sobs erupting from her lungs. She drops beside her and rubs her back. Her father shakes Johns hand and walks the soldiers to the door. John pulls him outside and informs him the the truth. 

“Sir, we need you to understand that the work we do is classified, in the eyes of the Government we do not exist unless we’re needed. With a job like this, comes sacrifices we have to make to protect the people we love”

“I’m not following? What sacrifices?” her father says, crossing his arms 

“If one of the people we’re investigating finds any bit of information about out lives or our loved ones then they’d be in danger”

“Are you telling me that my family isn’t safe?” 

“Officially I can’t tell you anything, but you need to know that we’re taking care of the situation, you’re family will be under 24/7 surveillance. You won’t even know they’re around” 

“Is it true then? Is Simon really gone? Man to man, is he gone?” her father asks, staring at Price. 

“For now” he responds “it’s imperative that y/n believes this”

“You’re asking me to lie to my daughter? Do you hear her in there? How can I-”

“Sacrifices, we all have to make them in order to keep our family safe. That’s all we’re doing here” Price shakes his hand and walks down the steps “take care of her, we’ll be checking in”

-

After hours of tossing and turning, crying until her lungs and throat burned she finally decides to get out of the warmth of her bed. A place she used to feel the most comfortable, now was empty. She rubs her hands over her face as her headache grows more intense, the lack of sleep already affecting her. Having woken up multiple times from nightmares, she willed herself to stay awake, to protect her fragile heart from the horror of her dreams. Everyday for the past week she’d been reminding herself that dreams are simply just a reflection of the mind, a way for her worries and fears to be shown. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t gone. This couldn’t be true. Simon wouldn't leave her. 

She moves into the bathroom and stares at herself in the mirror, she looks exhausted. The weight of Simon’s absence is evident on her face. Her face was puffy and her hair was tangled. A mixture of tears, saliva, and mucus coated her face. She wipes it off and sighs. Her lips trembling once more as her eyes fill with tears. She grips onto her hair as she tries to breath through her fourth panic attack in 24 hours. Memories of his hands running through her hair flash through her mind. A wave of nausea runs through her and she stares at it in disgust. He always loved her hair, he’d play with it absentmindedly. She was angry. How as she supposed to live with the hair he would kiss every morning, the hair he gripped when he kissed her passionately. She notices the scissors on the counter and grabs them, without hesitation she begins to cut strips of her hair off. She watches as her gorgeous strands fall, some in the sink, others landing on the ground. She sobs as she ruins her hair, unable to stop herself. After several minutes, she drops the scissors and stares at herself, the jagged strands unbalanced. She rushes to the toilet in a split second and empties her stomach violently. 

The sound causes her mother to rush into her room, she bursts through the door and spots her daughter laying against the toilet surrounded by her precious locks. “Oh honey”

-

please forgive me for this! omg I made myself cry. below is the link to when they reunite, I posted this a few months ago. If you wanna read that now, you are more than welcome I'll link it below, however there will be a few filler chapters in-between that I'll be posting!!!

You’re alive? (middle of MW3)

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/724654294153003008/youre-alive?source=share

love you all <3

[divinesolas]

Flowers | The Series | Chapter Twelve | The Question

Summary | The prince has shown up at your doorstep! what could he possibly want?

Pairing | Jacaerys Velaryon × Fem!Reader

Warnings | switches between jacaerys and reader pov, fluff!, hotheaded jace, not proofread

Word Count | 1.7k

a/n | things are finally moving along in this chapter!! i hope you guys enjoy it <3

series masterlist

Jacaerys stares after you as you walk away. The smile on his face is not faulting, he can feel his heart pounding against his chest. A hand grips his shoulders and shakes it. 

“I told you, you are a love sick fool.”

“Shut up.” jace smacks his hand off his shoulder and begins to walk away towards one of the staircases. “Youre still smiling i can see it.” 

He sighs having no reply for him. Hes never felt like this before. Did you cast some sort of spell on him? How can you have this grasp on him where you can dictate his mood by something as simple as a greeting or your smile? He barely knows you but he feels like hes known you a lifetime.

“Are you even listening to me?” he looks at lucerys with a blank look who sighs, “jace-”

“I need to go speak to the queen.” jace says before he sharply turns away from luce and walks through the corridors, his neck cramps from the amount of time he bows as he passes people. He will ask his mother about properly courting you joffrey be damned. As he is almost near his mothers chambers a voice calls out his name and he holds back his sigh. Of course someone had to come bother him now of all times. He quickly takes a deep breath and puts a gracieuse look on his face as he turns. “Lady cassandra.” 

“You fought well today my prince.” he rolls his shoulders back with a smile on her face. He knows she is just saying that to say something good to him as much as wants to say something he just shakes his head. “There is no need to praise a loss my lady.” 

“Dont be so modest not many a man would be able to fight against ser joffrey,” did joffrey even have a reputation for being good at fights? He would have to look into that later. “To celebrate you should join me and the other ladies for tea in the garden.” 

He attempts to hide the grimace that tries to fight its way onto his face. The last thing he wishes to do is gallivant around the gardens with the women of the court. “I am sorry my lady but i must speak with the queen-”

“She happens to be meeting with some of the court now so you are free to come, my prince.” and how does she know his mother is in a meeting now? And why does he speak of her so casually? Before he can question her heleana comes up behind them. “She's right, the queen is meeting some of the lord's right about now.” 

The two greet heleana as she waved them off and walks past them having said what she wanted to and jacaerys faces cassandra once more ignoring that winning look she has on her face. He clenches his jaw before offering her his arm. “Then I would be more than happy to join you, my lady.” 

Her smile grows as she grabs his arm and the two begin to walk towards the gardens. She makes a simple conversation with him asking what his plans are for the rest of the day? How did he feel about the tourney tomorrow? He grew more and more annoyed at her mundane conversation. She was quite frankly not doing anything wrong and he had no reason to get annoyed with her so why was he? 

A part of him tried to convince himself he was just still annoyed that he lost and when cassandra even noticed he was not in the best mood that is the reason he told her but when she was attempting to cheer him up there was a small part of him telling him he was so upset because she was not the girl he wanted to be talking to. She was not you.

—-

You feel yourself sit up, alarmed. The prince? He was here? Right now?

“Good day ser. I am sorry I had no clue you were all busy. I shall take my leave.”

“Nonsense my prince please whatever could you need?” your mother goes to stand by your father's side at the door blocking your view of jacaerys. Your mother turns to you and makes an alarmed face before you realize you must look like a mess. You quickly hope out of the bed and attempt to fix your hair as your heart pounds. 

“I simply wish to speak with your daughter.”

All of you freeze, your parents turn to look at you and you continue to slowly play with your hair.

“It is late my prince-”

“I apologize for showing up like this but I fear this matter is rather urgent.” 

You make your way towards the doorway and your parents move out of the way. 

“We’ll just… be back here…”

You can hear them feverishly whisper to each other as you step closer to jacaerys. You bow and avoid his eyes, “my prince, is there something you needed?” one of your hands moves up to your chest to grasp at where your heart is as you feel like it is about to burst out of your chest. 

He's quiet for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face as his hands trail down to where your hand is and he freezes before looking back at your face and turning his head. A blush forming on his face as he composes himself. 

“Could we step out into the hallway for a moment?”

Your jaw drops slightly and you turn back to your parents who look alarmed and shrug. “If you wish, my prince.” He offers his hand to you and you grasp it. He smiles warmly as he laces his fingers with yours and pulls you out into the hallway.

You don't go too far, your room only being a few feet away from you. He does not let go oof your hand. You enjoy the feeling of his hand laced with yours until the rational part of you remembers it is improper for you to be holding hands so you attempt to slip out of your grip but he grabs your hand once more and looks you dead in the eyes. 

“I find this hard to admit even to myself but ever since i saw you that first day you have plagued my thoughts,” you feel your breath run away from you as he takes a step closer to you, “my prince-” “please my lady i must speak now or i will not be able to speak again.”

You hold you tongue and he takes a deep breath, when did he get so close? You can feel his breath wisping on your face as he closes his eyes. “I have never felt like this before, you have consumed me fully and hold me in your grasp. I must know this, my lady. If I were to ask to enter courtship with you would you allow it?”

Your heart was banging so loudly you would be shocked if he could not hear it. The grip he has on your hand tightens as he eagerly awaits an answer from you. Your mind runs a mile a minute as you attempt to find some words to say.

“It is not a good idea, I am from a minor house.”

“That is of no matter to me.”

“But it should matter, you have every lady from every house vying for your attention-”

“Yet yours is the only one I wish to have. I wish for your eyes to only look at me. I wish for only your hands to grip mine. That is all that matters to me. So you must tell me.”

“Yes.” 

He freezes before a smile consumes his face and his free hand laces with your free hand and he laughs. “This makes me happier than you know my lady.” 

You can't help but grin as well at his overwhelming excitement. A part of you thinks hes about to ask if he could court your but he doesnt. Instead stepping away from, dropping one of your hands before leading you back to the rooms door where you see your parents waiting anxiously on the bed and shoot up upon seeing the two of you. Your mothers eyes drift down to your joined hands and a smile grows on her face. 

“I’d like to speak with you ser.” 

Your father clears his throat and puffs out his chest slightly, “of course my prince.”

You find yourself unable to stop the laughter that builds up in your throat as you see your father attempt to make himself look more intimidated and hide behind the wall as you laugh. 

“What is so funny? You dare laugh at your father?” This only causes you to laugh harder as you finally get out of jacaerys hand to cover your face as you lean against the wall.

You miss the smile on your fathers face as your mother smacks his shoulder and smiles at the prince. You manage to compose yourself as your mother straightens out her dress, “allow me to stay my prince, if you could.”

“Of course.”

Your mother waves her hand and ushers you to walk away and you look between all of them and you walk away, further down the hall until you cannot hear them. You lean against the wall and cover your face with your hands as the reality of the situation creeps in. 

He is most likely asking permission to court you.

Your smile against your hands as heat spreads all over your face. His words play over and over in your head and you find yourself shocked you actually managed to not faint during the conversation.

It was like something out of those fairytale books you read as a child. The prince finding the maiden girl and falls in love and they live happily ever after. The greedy part of you begins to imagine your life here in the keep. Getting to wake up and roam the rose gardens. 

You hear your name being called and you walk back towards the room and run into jacaerys who's just stepping out.

“I'm so sorry, my prince.”

He just shakes his head and smiles, lifting up your hand to place a kiss on the back of your hand before saying goodnight and walking off.

You turn and watch him walk away, the smile on your face only growing as he turns back to look at you once more.

[luxaofhesperides]

ghostlights prompt with "it's okay, you're safe now" hurt/comfort?

It takes over a month to find Danny. 

Thirty seven days of panic and ever growing dread, searching for him every single day. Duke hasn’t felt this way since he was in foster care, running away from whatever home he got placed in to search for his parents. 

The first week was spent trying to find any trace of Danny, working on nothing but his last few messages and a voicemail he left Duke, where all he said was a whispered, Call me back when you can. I might just be paranoid, but I think someone’s following me. I’m walking home right now. I… I don’t know, I feel a little sick, Duke, I— And then static before the voicemail ends. 

There hadn’t been any sign that Danny made it home. No cameras caught sight of him after he walked past a bus stop. No one around on the streets to tell him what happened. 

One moment, Danny was there. The next, he was gone.

He had to recruit the rest of the Bats into searching for Danny, and his guilt of outing Danny as a meta (half ghost, as Danny called himself) was easily buried under his desperation. Duke knows the statistics. The chances of finding someone after three days drop drastically, and after enough time, it’s safe to assume they’re dead even if people keep searching. 

Jason promised to interrogate some traffickers moving outside of Crime Alley, updating Duke weekly on any other kidnappings that might be related to Danny’s case. Tim had been checking around Danny’s neighborhood, slipping in and out of spaces to gather information, leaving behind cameras and bugs on the off chance the kidnappers came back to the area. Barbara hacked her way into the messages of traffickers, trying to find any mention of Danny. Even Bruce had gotten involved, looking into Danny’s background to see if there was anyone that might be connected to his disappearance.

Vlad Masters wasn’t a lead. He had no idea Danny was missing when they called, and he ended the call immediately to begin his own search.

Thirty seven days.

Duke didn’t want to lose hope, but all he could think about were the empty spaces in his life where Danny once was. 

And now, on the thirty eighth day, Duke jerks awake as his cell phone rings at max volume and he scrambles to get it. He’s not risking another missed call, not after Danny disappeared. 

He doesn’t have time to say anything once he accepts the call before Jason is saying, “We found him Duke. Babs is sending the location to the GPS of your motorcycle. Suit up and meet us here.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s…” Jason hesitates. “He’ll live. But these fuckers did a number on him, from what we've read in their files. We’re waiting for you and the others to get here, and then we’ll take them out while you get your boy to safety.”

“I’m on my way,” Duke says, already pulling his suit out to get changed. He hasn’t bothered to bring it to the Batcave for weeks, spending most of his time out on the streets as the Signal. It’s just easier to have it on hand than to go to the Batcave to suit up, or to leave it in the Hatch. He chucks his phone back onto his bed and is jumping out the window of his apartment just a minute later, dropping down to street level just as his motorcycle pulls up on the street.

He’ll have to remember to get Babs a gift basket or something when this is all over. It’s the least he can do after she’s helped him so much over the past month. 

“Thanks, Babs,” Duke says into his comm, switching it to a private line with Oracle. She hums an acknowledgement, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Not that Duke has much in him for conversation; all his focus is on Danny, Danny, Danny.

The GPS on the motorcycle leads him to the outskirts of GCU campus, in one of the buildings that had been closed off after a fire earlier in the year that they still haven’t fixed due to the amount of mobsters who liked to pass through it, using it as a drop sight for arms deals. Red Hood leans on the chain link fence surrounding it, watching as he approaches.

Duke all but jumps off the motorcycle to reach Red Hood, barely remembering to turn on the cloaking to hide it from sight.

“Where is he?”

“Basement,” Red Hood answers, and even through the helmet, Duke can hear the tightness in his voice that means he’s doing his best to hold back his rage. “Red Robin and the Batgirls are in there, getting Oracle access to their computers. They’re going to make sure no one slips by us. I’m going to make them wish I had been kind enough to kill them, and you’re going to take your boy straight to the Batcave where the Doc is waiting with Alfred.”

It’s not much of a plan, but Duke trusts the others to do what they need to do. All he cares about is getting Danny out of there. 

“Lead the way.”

They scale the fence easily, and there’s no one on the upper levels when they walk in. Not even a single camera to alert anyone to their entrance. Red Hood leads him down a stairwell, ignoring the way the shadows around them move on their own, Duke’s agitation making them twist into some dark nightmare. 

He sees the flicker of light as soon as they step out into the basement hallway. All the light bulbs above their head are broken, covering the floor in sharp glass, and doors going down the hall are all left open, some barely hanging onto their hinges. The building is a wreck, graffiti decorating portions of the wall, and it looks abandoned. He would bet even mobsters avoid coming down here; it’s all sorts of health hazards.

Normally, he’d be cautious. He would sneak through the wall, sticking to the shadows and staying hidden as he went deeper in, ready for anything. 

Duke hasn’t been thinking clearly in weeks. He sees the light, the soft white glow he associates with Danny, and tears after it like a man possessed. 

Distantly, he hears Red Hood curse behind him, and then he’s turning the corner, feeling the familiar burn in his eyes as his powers kick in and let him see the small ball of light flickering weakly as it guides him through the basement level. 

Red Robin and Batgirl’s voices fill his helmet and Duke doesn’t waste a second in muting his comm; if there’s a problem, they can work it out with Red Hood. Now that he’s so close to Danny, he’s not letting anything get in his way. 

The first guy he runs into is a surprise. Clearly a scientist, judging by the lab coat and the notebook in his hands, paired with the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. He barely has time to open his mouth, looking alarmed, before Duke slams into him, tackling him to the floor and knocking him out with a quick hit to the temple. 

A vent in the ceiling falls down, and Red Robin pops out.

“They’re keeping him in the back, locked in. I’m warning you now, it’s not a pretty sight.”

“I don’t care,” Duke snaps, “I’m getting him back.”

“We’ll clear the way and keep them from stopping you,” Red Robin says.

He whips out his bo staff and sprints away, kicking in a door. Duke follows after him, ignoring the yells from the other scientists gathered in there, leaving them to Red Robin’s tender mercies. 

The light leads him to a room hidden away in the lab, a small window in the door that is too dirty to see through. The door is locked, so Duke feels out the shadows around him and uses one to slip into the room.

And Danny’s there.

Danny, never without a smile, glowing and funny and so, so sweet, is lying curled up on the floor. There are shackles around his ankles, keeping him trapped in the room with the chain nailed into the wall. His wrists are bound in meta suppressant cuffs, leaving him weak and vulnerable. That’s not the worst thing.

The worst thing is the visible wounds Duke can see on him, sluggishly bleeding. There are blood stains all over the floor, cuts along his arms and thighs, clothes torn into nothing but dirty rags. There’s a large incision on his chest, going down from his collarbone to his navel, hastily stitched together in a way that only keeps it slightly closed, the stitches loose enough to be pulled out with a single pull. 

As if sensing his gaze, Danny blinks his eyes open, staring at the space next to Duke. Slowly, his gaze slides over, eyes hazy with pain and exhaustion. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Duke kneels next to him, pulling off his gloves to cup Danny’s cheek as gently as he can.

“Hey,” he whispers, overcome with both grief at the pain Danny had to go through, and relief at finally finding him. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Danny doesn’t try to speak again. Instead, he closes his eyes and leans into Duke’s touch, relaxing. 

“I got you honey, it’s alright. I’m gonna get you out of here and take you to some people who can patch you up.”

He slides his arms beneath Danny’s body, lifting him into his arms. 

He doesn’t remember much of what happens next; it’s all a blur of movement and feeling blood slide over his hands. Later, he’ll hear the others give their report, telling of how they found Danny following the trail of a university professor bragging about a paper that would make him famous for a deeper understanding of meta biology. They’ll recount their scouting, the information they stole, how many people they fought and captured. They’ll talk about how the shadows completely overwhelmed the basement when Duke left with Danny, traveling through shadows at a speed he had never achieved before, going farther than he’s ever been able to. 

Leslie and Alfred input their own medical reports of the torture done to Danny and how long he’ll need to be in recovery, checking for infection and possible side effects to his powers. 

All of that will be important later. 

Duke doesn’t care about anything at all when he’s finally able to return to Danny’s side once Alfred and Leslie are done patching him up. The weight that’s been on his shoulders for the past thirty seven days is gone. The sight of Danny’s blue eyes fluttering open is the most beautiful he’ll ever see.

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, holding Danny’s hand as he wakes.

Danny smiles at him. “Duke,” he whispers, “I knew you’d find me.”

“Always, honey. Always.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: I know it's been a while; been dealing with some health issues and uni work. I shared a teaser of chapter 16, which I actually had to split into two chapters because it reached 20k words and that's just ridiculous for me personally lol. Hope you enjoy <3

CW/TW: Slight angst, mild mention of violence

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

@electronicwitchsandwich

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

Roman’s couch was far too soft for a mind that wouldn’t stop racing.

It wasn’t surprising that Nate couldn’t sleep, even though it had just passed 2am. Her leather jacket was bunched up at her lower back, some kind of feeble attempt at some comfort. But the ache of her body was too much, and her thoughts were circling like vultures around death as she stared at the screen of her phone, aimlessly swiping between apps and trying to lose herself in the virtual world. 

Everything felt… off. Unreal. It was like she was trapped in some kind of dream—the kind in which no matter how hard you try and wake yourself up, no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just a dream, you’re stuck in it. It’s real. And it’s not going away.

Katya: Alexei and Boris are staying at the house tonight. And I don’t know why, nobody will tell me anything.

Nate frowned, her thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. Alexei and Boris weren’t just hanging around for fun—they only showed up together at the house for either alcohol, or business. Either way, it meant something was happening; normally, Nate would be informed about meetings or visits, business endeavours… But the fact that she wasn’t this time, it didn’t sit right.

Katya: Where are u anyway??

With a sigh, she typed out a response.

Nate: Lana’s

Nate: And that’s weird. You didn’t overhear anything or…

Katya: No. It was all very… weird. They didn’t even see me standing there. They went into dad’s office.

Nate: Right… 

Nate: Lock your door and get some sleep if you can. If anything seems off or if you hear something, call me.

Nate: I mean it, you call me if something happens.

Nate: Promise me.

Katya: Ok

Katya: Nate, you’re my best friend, aside from my sister.

Katya: There’s nobody else I would call.

Katya: ily 🩷

Nate: Love you too x

A knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach, but there wasn’t much she could do from here. Whatever was going on at the house, it would have to wait until she got back. She had business to take care of before then. And as guilty as it made Nate feel for lying to her sister about her whereabouts, she had to keep reminding herself that it was for Katya. For her future. Both of their futures. A dangerous life with dangerously high stakes had to be neutralised before chaos struck. Because once chaos strikes, one only has a certain amount of time before a complete implosion.

And chaos had, indeed, struck.

Switching over to her conversation thread with Boris, she thought about texting him to ask what was going on, but as soon as she opened the chat, her eyes were drawn to the unopened image attachment at the top of the screen.

Bloody hell, what now?

The second the photo loaded on her screen, she had the impulse to fling her phone to the other side of the room, far away from her eyes. A grotesque image of Boris in front of a mirror, flexing, his pale skin bare of any clothing. Completely nude. She groaned audibly, her face scrunching in disgust.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, immediately closing the chat and tossing her phone beside her. Of all the things she didn’t need to deal with right now, Boris and his misguided attempts at seduction were at the top of the list.

“I brought you a blanket.”

Nate turned around quickly to see Naomi standing in the doorway, holding a blanket in her arms. Tentative, as if she wasn’t sure how Nate would react to her showing up in the middle of the night. Everyone made the executive decision to stay at Roman’s house that night, considering the meet up occurring the day after. And for a minute, Nate forgot where she was exactly—a place she really shouldn’t be.

“Oh,” she exhaled, calming her nerves. “Uh, thanks.”

Naomi offered a small smile and walked over, holding the blanket out to Nate. “I figured you didn’t have anything with you… the big guy ain’t exactly stocked up on guest amenities.”

Nate couldn’t help but snort at that, taking the blanket and setting it in her lap. “Yeah, I noticed”

Lingering for a moment, Naomi shifted on her feet. “Mind if I sit?”

“Sure, whatever,” Nate shrugged, leaning back into the couch as Naomi sat next to her, tucking one leg under the other and glancing around the room before her gaze settled on Nate again.

“I, uh…” she started softly. “I just wanted to apologise about the whole engagement party thing. I didn’t mean for it to… well, I don’t want you to think I was there to start anything. I wasn’t spying or nothin’.”

Nate tilted her head slightly, her tired eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You weren’t?”

“No, not really. I mean, Roman asked me to be there, yeah, but I wasn’t tryna make trouble. I was just… watching, I guess. I don’t want you to think I, like… have it out for you or anything.”

Nate studied Naomi’s face for a moment, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but she found none. She seemed genuine, even back at the party. It was a strange contrast to the tension Nate usually felt in the presence of Roman’s inner circle.

“Okay,” Nate cautiously accepted. “Then what exactly were you doing there?”

Sighing, Naomi pulled her hands into her lap and played with the edges of her robe sleeves. “Honestly, just tryna keep an eye on things. I know how the big guy can be… how intense he can get. I think he’s just worried about… you bein’ around—about whether or not he can trust you. And I guess he thought I could give him some perspective. But I wasn’t there to judge you.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, her scepticism still evident, but she nodded slowly. “Right…”

“Look, I get why you’d be pissed about it. Hell, I’d be too. But for what it’s worth… I don’t see you as a threat. I don’t know the full story, but my ass has been around enough Roman Reignses in my life to know when someone’s got potential.”

“Potential for what?” Nate huffed through a low, humourless laugh.

“To be somebody Roman trusts,” Naomi said simply. “That ain’t something he gives lightly, y’know? But I think he sees something in you. He wouldn’t have let you stick around this long if he didn’t!”

The comment caught Nate off-guard, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Roman’s trust wasn’t something she’d ever considered herself earning at any point during any of this. And to be frank, he’d be wise to share that sentiment. Nate didn’t exactly trust easily either.

“I’m not really looking to be Roman’s most trusted ally here,” she muttered, trying to deflect.

“I know,” Naomi nodded. “Doesn’t mean it ain’t happening, though.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment as Nate pondered the words. Still unconvinced that Roman Reigns trusting her was on the horizon, in any universe. 

“I think you’re handling everything pretty well. Given that the boys are a bunch of barnyard animals.”

Nate scoffed, shaking her head. “If this is me handling things well, I’d hate to see what a disaster looks like.”

Naomi chuckled quietly. “Girl, you’re doing just fine.”

Nate let out a deep breath, feeling a little of the tension ease out of her shoulders. She wasn’t sure she believed Naomi, but it was nice to hear something other than suspicion for once. 

“Thanks,” she said after a moment, keeping her voice subdued.

Naomi smiled and gave her a small nod, standing up from the couch and stretching out her arms. “Well, I should let you get some rest. It’s been a long ass day.”

“Yeah,” Nate quietly agreed, watching out of her peripherals as Naomi took a step towards the door, paused, and glanced back at her.

“If you need anything whenever you’re here… just let me know, okay?”

Nate finally broke out a tiny smile. “Will do.”

With that, Naomi left the room, leaving Nate alone again in the quiet darkness.

On the plus side, Nate managed a fitful hour and a half of sleep before she jolted awake, her body stiff from the awkward position she’d fallen into on the couch. The blanket Naomi had brought her was tangled around her legs, offering little comfort. With an irritated sigh, she pushed it off and sat up, her head heavy, and the room thick with early-morning silence.

3:45am. She groaned as she read the time on her phone, running a hand through her hair. Honestly, she could have just gotten up and driven back to Tribeca, or to Lana’s place. Could have. But she didn’t. She put up with the discomfort of sleeping in Roman Reigns’ house, on the couch. God, if Dimitri could see her right now… No, she didn’t even want to entertain that possibility. 

Suddenly, the soft creak of footsteps caught her attention. Her eyes snapped toward the direction of the stairs, narrowing slightly as a dark figure emerged.

Roman.

In this low lighting, he looked even more imposing—which she didn’t think could be possible—with his black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and the fitted T-shirt stretched across his chest. It was clear he hadn’t exactly been asleep either.

Roman crossed the room without acknowledging her at first, his focus entirely on the bar in the corner. He wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet as he methodically poured himself a glass of whiskey with a slightly clumsy exterior. Something about his demeanour screamed stress, despite the carefully controlled facade he always maintained. The whiskey sloshed in the glass, the sound crisp in the otherwise silent space.

She watched him for a moment, wondering what the hell had brought him downstairs at this hour. Was he still riled up from earlier? Was something else gnawing at him? Nate didn’t have the energy to ask, but she couldn’t help but feel unnerved by it. Especially when he turned, one drink in each hand, and headed toward the couch—the couch she was on.

Instead of choosing any of the empty chairs scattered around the room, Roman sat down at the opposite end of the couch from her, his broad frame taking up more space than necessary. The leather creaked under his weight, and Nate tensed slightly, unsure of why he’d chosen to sit so close. She had expected him to stay aloof, maybe ignore her entirely like he just did moments ago. But here he was, settling in, clearly not in a hurry to go back to where he’d come from.

He held out one of the glasses in her direction, and she hesitated. Eyed the drink suspiciously.

“You look like you need it,” Roman muttered, his tone edged with something almost… defeated?

Nate blinked, caught off-guard. Roman wasn’t exactly the sympathetic type from what she’d witnessed, especially not with her, and the offer made her brow arch in confusion. Nevertheless, she took the glass from him, her fingers brushing the cold condensation, but she didn’t drink it. Instead, she just stared at it, trying to piece together what was going on in his head.

They sat in silence for a long, drawn-out moment. She took little intervals to glance over at him, the sharp lines of his profile barely softened by the modest light. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles tight around his own glass as he took a slow sip.

It was strange—seeing him like this. Roman was always so controlled, always in charge, but right now… something was off.

Nate wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the weariness etched into his face, but the usual tension between them felt muted, replaced by something entirely different. Heavier. It was almost like Roman was trying to drown himself in nothingness, the drink in his hand a poor substitute for whatever was really bothering him.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Who’s your contact?”

She snapped her head toward him, furrowing her eyebrows. “If I told you, you’d just have another thing to be mad at me for.”

Immediately, she regretted the sharpness of her tone. Her irritation, the bone-deep exhaustion, everything was making her more short-tempered than usual. She sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice softer this time. “I didn’t mean to… I’m just tired.”

Roman didn’t react to her apology, didn’t even flinch at the attitude—she was sure he had become accustomed to, or at the very least expectant of, her disposition by now. 

He simply took another drink, staring off into the distance, as if her words didn’t even register. She studied him carefully now, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the subtle slump in his usually rigid posture. It was clear—whatever had him in this state wasn’t about her.

The sight of him in this light, in this position at 4am… it stirred something in her. Roman was always so invincible, so unbreakable. Witnessing him this drained, this… human, pulled at her in a way she hadn’t expected.

She sighed again, this time not out of frustration, but pity. “Becky Lynch,” she said quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the glass. “That’s my contact.”

Roman finally turned to look at her, his brows narrowing. “Aiden’s daughter?”

Nate nodded, watching his expression closely. She could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out why she, of all people, would be reaching out to someone deep in the bloodline of the very people she’s trying to catch out, fully knowing that there was a low chance of her actually being truthful. Roman wasn’t the type to ask for clarification outright, but the question was written all over his face. Why Becky Lynch?

Her exhausted eyes met his. “There’s literally nobody else,” she said, barely above a whisper. “No information anywhere that you can find that’ll be more helpful, more valuable than what comes from Becky. She also…” she paused for a second, “never really had a great relationship with her dad, so…”

Roman’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger. It was recognition. Maybe. He leaned back slightly, giving her a once over in that quiet, calculating manner he always had.

“So,” he murmured. “A bit like you then.”

Her heart gave an unexpected jolt, and for a moment, the silence between them felt more intimate, more charged than before. Roman wasn’t asking for more information, wasn’t pushing her for answers. He was simply… acknowledging something. Something they both understood but never talked about.

Nate leaned back into the couch, finally taking a sip of the whiskey Roman had handed her. It burned as it slid down her throat, and she grimaced slightly, setting the glass on the small table beside the couch. Her eyes drifted back to him, noticing how he hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything since his last comment. He just sat there, staring off into nothing.

It wasn’t hard to see that Roman’s mood had been exceptionally dark and volatile since she’d arrived—snapping at anyone and everyone who came near him. Whatever he was going through now was the comedown, the aftermath of exerting so much energy into being angry. Drained, like whatever had been pushing him to that edge had finally started to wear him down. 

And for some reason, it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

“So…” Nate started, crossing her arms and leaning forward, studying his expression. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you? Or are we just gonna sit here pretending that everything’s fine when you’ve been in a mood foul enough to scare off half your family?”

Roman’s eyes flitted in her direction, wordlessly contemplating whether or not to even bother with her question. She couldn’t blame him. Asking Roman to open up was probably more like trying to pry a locked door open with your bare hands—frustrating and usually pointless.

“I mean,” she continued, her tone more defensive, “It’s not because I care or anything. I just need you to be at one hundred percent. We need to figure out who’s responsible for the shipment. And whoever killed Priest isn’t gonna wait around while you throw temper tantrums.”

Nate expected him to snap back at her, to say something biting, but he just stared down at the whiskey in his glass, swirling the amber liquid around in slow, measured circles. The silence dragged on again, and she was starting to think he was going to ignore her completely when he finally spoke.

“I’m havin’... ex-wife issues,” Roman muttered, the words coming out like they’d been dragged from the back of his throat.

That was… unexpected. Nate raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Ex-wife issues? The words didn’t even sound like they belonged in the same sentence as Roman Reigns. He seemed too… detached for something like that.

“You? Married?” she asked, her tone laced with playful disbelief, though she didn’t push too hard. “Now that’s a twist. Never pegged you for the type.”

Roman let out a dry, humourless chuckle, still not looking directly at her. “Yeah, me neither. I try not to regret it. But it’s hard not to when you’re dealin’ with… shit like this.”

Nate couldn’t help but smirk, though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “Well, exes can be psychotic sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, this ex has filed a whole ass custody petition for our daughter,” Roman said, the words slipping out before he had a chance to catch them.

Nate blinked. And then blinked again.

Roman… had a daughter?

That was a hell of a thing to drop in the middle of the night like that.

“I didn’t realise you had a daughter,” she said softly, not teasing this time, just genuinely taken aback.

Roman finally looked at her, albeit with a mix of exhaustion and something else—maybe irritation, maybe resignation. “Yeah, well, you ain’t exactly someone I like to talk to.”

Void of venom, his words were just a blunt truth that Nate couldn’t argue with. They weren’t close, they weren’t even civil a majority of the time; why would they sit around and swap personal stories? 

She pursed her lips, an unexpected pang of empathy arising. She knew what it was like to have family issues drag you through the mud, even if her circumstances were different. “I’m sorry,” she said, surprising even herself with the sincerity of the words. She wasn’t one to apologise much, especially not to someone like Roman.

Roman’s jaw tightened, but after a beat, he shook his head, as if trying to shake off the tension. “Nah. That was outta line. You didn’t deserve that.”

Nate chewed at the drying skin on her lower lip, shifting uncomfortably—not because of Roman, but because of the realisation that she actually… cared. About Roman’s situation. About how all of this was clearly affecting him more than he was letting on.

“I take it she’s causing trouble,” she said just above a whisper, looking down at her lap. 

Roman huffed, leaning back and rubbing a hand across his jaw. “You could say that. Maria’s always been a problem. Thought I was done with her shit when we split, just had to deal with her when it was in Ava’s best interest. But… custody battles? That’s a whole different level of bullshit I ain’t ready for.”

“So, what does she want? Money?”

He shook his head, staring off into the distance again. “Nah, it ain’t about that. I think she just… wants control. Wants to prove I’m not a good father. That I’m too tied up in all this for shared custody.”

“I didn’t even know you had a kid,” she hummed, more to herself than to him. The thought of Roman’s stress being split between the business, the shipment, and the threat of losing his daughter to an ex-wife he clearly didn’t see eye-to-eye with—made her stomach twist a little. “Guess it makes sense, though. Why wouldn’t you want to keep that part of your life… separate?”

Roman’s gaze softened, just for a moment. “Yeah. You get it, right? Gotta protect what matters.”

Nate nodded slowly. She did understand. More than he knew. But there was no way she was going to spill her soul out to him. Even if he’d started to peel back a thin layer himself.

“Exes can be a real pain in the arse,” she said, her voice a little lighter now. “But it sounds like she’s going for the jugular with this one. Custody petitions? That’s not just a fight; that’s war.”

He let out a low grunt, tipping his head back and downing the rest of his whiskey in one smooth motion. “Yeah. And she ain’t exactly playin’ fair.”

With a small, almost menacing chuckle, she rested her arm on the back of the couch, leaning her head on her hand. “Well… it’s a good thing you don’t play fair either.”

That earned her a ghost of a smirk from Roman. “Damn straight.”

For the first time, the tension between them had eased enough that the conversation felt almost… normal. Almost.

Nate reached back to pick up her own glass, the burn of whiskey less harsh when she took another sip. “You gonna be alright with all this?”

Roman didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the empty glass in his hand. Contortions on his face mirrored his thoughts; twisted and sharp. “Yeah. I’ll handle it. Always do.”

She nodded, though a part of her wondered how much longer he could keep handling everything on his own without something giving way. But that wasn’t her problem to fix.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The car slowed to a halt a couple of blocks from their destination, a gritty, rundown coffee shop on the corner of Houston Street and Essex in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. It was one of those places that had clearly seen better days—faded signage, chipped paint, and a few patrons who looked like they’d been sitting in the same seats for years. The kind of joint where no one asked questions and fewer paid attention. Perfect for a low-key meeting.

Nate shuffled awkwardly in the backseat, casting a sidelong glance at Tamina, who was silently checking over the small wire she was about to strap to Nate. Roman sat in the passenger seat, one hand draped lazily over the console while his gaze was fixed out the window, unreadable as usual. Paul was behind the wheel, ever the silent observer, but as always, his presence loomed large.

“I still don’t get why this is necessary,” Nate muttered under her breath in mild annoyance. “I could just tell you what Becky says afterwards.”

Roman responded with a small quirk of his mouth that suggested he was enjoying her discomfort far more than he should be. Tamina, on the other hand, was all business.

“You know the deal,” she said firmly, but not entirely unkind as she clipped the wire to Nate’s jacket. “We don’t trust anyone’s word, especially not when we don’t know them too well. We need to hear it in real-time.”

Nate rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. It was pointless. Ever since she agreed to work with Roman, nothing had been straightforward, and they’d had her under more scrutiny than her father as of late. It came with strings, thick ones, and this was just one of them. If she was to talk to someone, it would be documented. Period. 

“Yeah, I get that,” she sighed, glancing down at the wire now attached to the inside of her jacket. “But what, you think I’ll just forget a key detail? I’m not exactly an amateur with this kinda stuff.”

Roman’s low chuckle filled the car, breaking the quiet tension. “This ain’t about you being an amateur. It’s about making sure there ain’t any surprises. And trust me,” he added, his tone dripping with that familiar arrogant charm, “This’ll help you way more than you think. You’d rather us hear it now than grill you later, right?”

She shot him a look, unimpressed but also knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong. He had a way of bending the truth just enough to make it sound like he was doing her a favour. Typical Roman. She huffed, leaning back against the seat.

“I still don’t think it’s necessary.”

The smirk on his face grew slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You’ll get over it.”

Tamina finished adjusting the wire and sat back, satisfied with her work. She gave Nate a nod, signalling she was good to go. Paul shifted in the driver’s seat, speaking up for the first time since they’d gotten there.

“So,” he began, “Ms. Volkov. Where does your father think you are?”

Nate paused, her hand brushing over her leather-clad arm, smoothing out any folds. “A friend’s house,” she replied with a shrug, so nonchalantly.

“And that friend will back you up? Be your alibi?” Roman asked.

“Yep.” Nate didn’t look at him when she answered, her focus instead on the street outside. The wind moved the few sparse trees, a gust here and there, and she had a moment to breathe in the quiet before the meeting.

However, Roman wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her properly from the front seat. “You’re sure?”

Nate snapped her head to him, a flash of agitation sparking in her eyes. “Fuck’s sake, Roman, yes. I’ve done this before, my friend will back me up.”

He raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze for a beat longer before giving a slight nod. Tamina and Paul exchanged glances, their silent communication not lost on Nate. But before anyone could push further, Roman waved his hand dismissively. “Fine. I’m just making sure you don’t fuck this up.”

Nate rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to shield the little smirk on her face. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be.”

With everything set, Tamina gave Nate one last lok, almost a silent check to see if she was truly ready. Nate exhaled, her confidence steady, and nodded.

“Alright,” Tamina said. “You’re good to go. Just keep it cool, Zayn and the twins are a few blocks down in case anythin’ goes wrong.”

The younger woman gave her a quick hum of understanding before she opened the door and stepped out of the car. The midday sun was still muted, casting long shadows across the pavement. The streets were busier now, people going about their day unaware of the underworld dealings happening just a few feet away. Nate glanced back at the car for a moment, catching Roman’s gaze through the tinted window. He watched her like a hawk, and though she couldn’t see his expression fully, she could most definitely feel the weight of his eyes tracking her every move.

The silence stretched for a minute or so as Roman watched Nate walk away, disappearing and blending into the small spurts of people along the sidewalk. Paul cleared his throat, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel.

“She didn’t want to wear the wire, boss,” he commented cautiously, as if he were testing the waters.

Roman leaned back in his seat, his eyes still on the direction Nate had gone. “Yeah. I know.”

Tamina turned in her seat, her sharp cat-eyed gaze landing on Roman. “You think she’ll leave it on?”

With a slow exhale, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face hardened, the lines of mild wisdom and fatigue strengthening in his expression. “I don’t know. But I guess we’re about to find out if our… Euro-Asian ally can really be trusted,” he muttered.

Nate had on her game face as she approached the small café where she was set to meet Becky, her pacing in line with the other pedestrians. Scanning every detail of her surroundings without looking like she was; she was experienced—did this more times than she could count—but this time felt a little more… personal. The last time she’d seen Becky, tensions had been at an all-time high, and the years of silence between them hadn’t dulled the edge of that old bitterness. If anything, it made the situation more volatile. 

As she neared the entrance, she stopped for a second, adjusting her jacket just enough to make sure the wire stayed hidden. She ran her hands over her hair in an attempt to look more presentable, catching sight of unmistakable red hair from inside, standing out like a flare in the low light of the dim interior.

The bell on the door tinkled softly as she stepped inside. It was quiet, save for a few patrons scattered across the room, either lost in their laptops or deep in conversation. Nate clocked every exit, took note of where people were seated, and scanned the staff in the unlikely case that one of them was a plant. Old habits.

Becky didn’t look up immediately. She was seated at a corner table, nursing what looked like a coffee, her posture relaxed. You could feel the tension pulled taut between them, and when their eyes finally met, there was a brief flicker of recognition—more distant than familiar. 

Nate approached cautiously, her boots making soft thuds against the hardwood floor, and took a seat across from Becky without a word.

“Long time,” Nate said, keeping her voice low and steady.

Becky smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee before resting back. “Lucky you,” she began, her voice carrying that signature Irish lilt, “That I’m even here. Thought about telling you to fuck off, but… I wanted to see you. See how much like your father you’ve become.”

It appeared as though Nate kept her composure, but her hands balled up into tight fists under the table, bristling at such an insinuation. She could tell Becky meant every word. “He doesn’t even know I’m here, so…”

Becky raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “So what, you’re goin’ behind your da’s back now?” She scoffed, clearly not buying it. “You were always the loyal one. One hundred and ten percent Volkov, through and through. What’s changed?”

Nate hesitated for only a second, quickly catching herself. “It’s complicated. And none of your business.”

“Everything’s complicated with your family,” Becky eyed her carefully, her fingers tapping idly on her cup.

There was a pause, and the insinuation of their shared history hung over the two of them like a massive, dark cloud. 

“I’m not here to talk about my dad,” Nate said, getting straight to the point. “I’ve got a situation. A shipment stolen. Damian Priest, dead in the process. Bad Bunny’s compound was ambushed. Irish flag on the car. I need answers, Becky.”

The redhead across from her didn’t betray much conclusion on her face, but she did display a brief flicker of familiarity at the mention of Priest. Letting the information sink in, she lowered her gaze to the table.

After what felt like an eternity, she shrugged.

That simple gesture made Nate’s chest tighten in rage. “A shrug?” Her voice rose a little. “That’s all you’ve got for me? A fucking shrug?”

Becky met Nate’s anger with cool indifference, drinking more of her coffee before answering. “I don’t know what to tell you, Nate.”

“You can tell me why your family is still fucking with us after all this time. Because I swear to God, if this is about some old gru—”

“My family didn’t do shit.”

“Sure as hell looks like it.”

Becky’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, her icy demeanour cracked. “My family isn’t even in the States anymore.”

Nate froze, her brows knitting. “What?”

“You heard me,” Becky said, dropping her voice an octave. “We left. After what your da pulled… my father hasn’t been the same. You want to know why you haven’t heard from us? It’s because we haven’t been here. My family’s been in Ireland for years. My da’s in a fuckin’ wheelchair. And believe me, we ain’t coming back.”

This wasn’t adding up.

“No,” Nate shook her head. “You… They have to be here. None of this makes sense otherwise.”

Becky shook her head, exasperation etched all over. “After your da took over X, mine was done. He’s been out of the game since then. It’s a round-the-clock job for whoever looks after him now, there’s no fuckin’ way my family’s involved in whatever bullshit you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“My father is not to blame for that,” Nate found herself defending her dad, hating that her family was being blamed period. “He did what he had to do. If it hadn’t been him, it would’ve been someone else. That’s how this business works, Becky, you know that.”

Gaze hardening, Becky leaned forward as her voice dropped to a growl. “His moves, his ‘business’ nearly killed my dad. He had a stroke after his blood pressure got too high. You want to defend him? Fine. But you don’t know what it’s like to watch your da waste away. Good relationship, or not.” She took a deep, shaky breath, calming herself. “It would’ve been more dignified to put a bullet in his head than to let him end up like this.”

The brutal honesty of Becky’s statement momentarily stunned Nate. But she wasn’t here to dwell on the past or the people they’d lost along the way, nor was she here to play catch-up, to offer her sympathy. She had a job to do.

“Why are you here then?” she asked more curiously than accusatory. “If your family’s back home, why are you still in the States?”

“That’s none of your business.” Becky crossed her arms.

But Nate wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed the small details—the subtle changes in Becky’s appearance, the way she carried herself. Most importantly, the ring on her left hand.

“You’re married,” Nate casually commented, observing Becky’s face closely. “Congratulations.”

“Don’t make it sound like it matters to you.”

“It must be someone important if nobody can find anything about you anymore. Must have taken a lot to disappear so cleanly.”

And there it was. She had the upper hand. 

“So,” she continued insistently, “You’re telling me that whoever ambushed us, whoever killed Damian Priest, and whoever stole our shipment… it wasn’t the Irish?”

Becky met her gaze head-on, her eyes clear and resolute. “My family hasn’t returned since they were chased out. I’m the only one left because I don’t want anything to do with it anymore.”

Nate sat back, letting Becky’s words settle. For all the hostility, all the unresolved history between them, she believed her. It was in her tone. The inflictions. The way her eyes stayed confidently locked onto Nate’s as she pleaded her case. 

“I’m sorry, Nate,” Becky sighed, looking away for the first time. “I wish I had more for you, but I don’t. My family’s outta this. And so am I.”

Tensions were rising back in the SUV. How could the Irish not be involved? It was their flag, for fuck’s sake! It seemed like everytime they got closer to an answer, it was ripped out from under them. And Roman just wanted to know where his half was—where his weaponry ended up! Who the fuck would be so audacious as to fuck with The Bloodline, and the Volkovs. 

Paul leaned closer to the speakers. “What do you think, boss? You buy what Lynch is saying?”

Roman’s jaw clenched, nose flaring a little. “I don’t know yet. But Nate’s got history with her. She’ll know if it’s bullshit.”

“You trust her?” Tamina asked, raising her brows.

“I trust that she’s as desperate as we are right now. That’s good enough—for now.”

It seemed as though Nate and Becky’s conversation was coming to a close, and just as Tamina was readying the boxes that had contained the wire, Becky spoke again.

“How have you been holding up since…”

Her voice trailed off, and Roman furrowed his eyebrows. He exchanged a glance with Paul, who was equally puzzled. They didn’t know what Becky was referring to, but it was clear that whatever it was, it struck a nerve with Nate.

“Fine,” Nate’s voice responded, but even through the static, Roman could hear the lie; he’d grown used to hearing when someone was holding back on the truth.

“Lyin’ ass,” he muttered under his breath.

“Are you sure about that?” Becky pressed on, not letting Nate slip away so easily.

The pause between question and response felt like it lasted forever, and Roman picked up on the uneven rhythm of Nate’s breathing.

“Yeah,” she finally said, albeit rather flat. Clearly wanting to end this conversation. But Becky wasn’t done.

“Did you find out who did it?”

Roman shot Paul a glance. “Who did what?”

Paul shook his head, indicating he had no idea what the fuck they were talking about either.

Nate’s response was barely audible. “No.”

“You haven’t tried?” Becky asked again, her tone betraying a sense of disbelief.

“Dad tried in the beginning,” Nate admitted. “But I think it got too much for him. And now… it’s like she never even existed.”

Roman’s frown deepened. She? Whoever they were talking about, whatever they were talking about, they were way past the topic of the Irish, the shipment, and the ambush. It was personal. He tried to piece together what was going on, thinking back to the limited conversations he and Nate had shared since agreeing to work with each other. The only one that came to mind was the way her disposition switched entirely at the mention of her mother, back when they paid Bunny’s men a visit.

“Are you still trying?”

There was a long silence, causing Roman to impatiently lean forward as though it was going to drag the answer from the speakers. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling out of control, and right now, that’s exactly what this conversation was doing to him. He hated it.

Finally, there was an answer. “Yes….”

“And how’s that going?” Becky’s question felt like a final blow, digging into an old wound.

Nate let out a bitter laugh. “A load of bollocks.”

The sound of her frustration was so familiar by this point, so raw, that her accent tickled him in a way it hadn’t in the past. He smirked, despite the severity of the task at hand, mumbling, “Love how she says that shit…”

Paul raised an eyebrow at Roman’s sudden amusement but said nothing. The humour quickly faded, and Roman’s expression returned to its more guarded state.

As the conversation continued, there was a sudden long pause. The crackling of the wire grew louder, and for a moment, the car was drowned in absolute silence. Roman squinted at the speakers.

“You think the wire’s been cut?” Paul asked, looking between the speakers and Roman.

Tamina leaned forward, tense concern taking over her features. “Shit, maybe she took it off. Didn’t want us hearing the rest.”

“Nah,” Roman quickly shook his head. “She wouldn’t do that. Not after what’s already been said.”

The silence dragged on. Roman’s fingers drummed against the dashboard, his patience thinning. But then, the Irish lilt cut through the quiet with a soft sigh.

“If you get stuck, truly stuck,” she began, “Contact me. I think I know someone who might be able to help you with… all that.”

Narrowing his brows, Roman’s attention was once again fully captured.

“No guarantees, though,” Becky added cautiously. “But there’s a possibility.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tamina huffed, holding her hands up in an open gesture, as if the answer would fall into her lap.

“Take care of yourself, Nate. And please… don’t end up like Dimitri.”

The static crackled again with the sound of rustling, movement, and muffled farewells.

“The hell was that?” Tamina asked.

“The hell do I know?” Roman bit back, just as frustrated and puzzled as his cousin.

“Not exactly the intel we were looking for, but… i-it could be useful,” Paul reasoned.

Tamina glanced between Roman and Paul. “You think she’s hiding something?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Roman took a deep breath, “But she doesn’t like talkin’ about it. It’s personal. And I need to know everything if I’m gonna trust her.”

“Sir,” Paul cleared his throat, “Ms Lynch didn’t seem deceitful.”

“I’m not disagreeing with that, Wise Man.” He turned his head to look at his special counsel. “But the less we know about Volkov’s situation, the more at risk we are at gettin’ fucked by it.”

Heyman paused, trying to hold back the smile on his face at Roman’s mindset. He’d seen this man grow up. Knew his family for decades. He always knew that he’d be a smart, head-strong leader, just following in the footsteps of those who came before him, and to have been even a tiny part of that… It was his greatest achievement. Roman was his greatest achievement.

The sound of one of the car doors opening startled the silence that had taken over the space, and Roman’s eyes snapped over to Nate sliding back in the car, her face set on neutral—as if she hadn’t just been through a conversation that had rattled her to the core.

Roman waited until she’d closed the door and the tension simmered. “How’d it go?” he asked calmly.

Her eyes only met his for a millisecond, before settling back out the window. “It went.”

“That’s all you got?” He raised an eyebrow.

Nate sighed, leaning back. “She gave me what she could. It’s not much, but it’s more than we had before.” Even though her confidence had been shaken by the unexpected topic brought up by Becky, it was still gnawing at her just how wrong she was about the whole thing. The Irish. It wasn’t them. She was so sure of it, too. So entirely set on her theory, which she saw as anything but.

And she was wrong.

“You don’t look too convinced,” Roman probed, shooting his cousin and Paul a glance.

Nate shrugged. “Becky’s out. It’s not her or her family.”

Her nonchalance grated against Roman’s patience like nails on a chalkboard. “And this other stuff you were talkin’ about with her?” 

“It’s personal,” she answered perhaps a little too quickly. Too insistent. The two word substitution for a much harsher two word command: shut up.

Roman’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally turned back around, letting it go—for now. “Fine.”

But he’d get it out of her. One way or another.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The ride back to Roman’s house had been mostly quiet. Nate was lost in thought, processing everything that had just transpired with Becky. Roman, Paul, and Tamina sensed the shift in her mood—not like she was doing much to hide it, though.

As soon as the car stopped, Nate stepped out, honestly wanting to just get back home and go to sleep. This was supposed to be a quick meeting the day before, and it had turned into a twenty-four hour affair. It was time to head back—back to the life she’d been trying to balance alongside this chaos. She instantly moved toward the borrowed car she drove here, ready to leave, but unlike the others, Roman stayed outside.

He leaned casually against the side of the car, arms folded, watching Nate as she fished for the keys from her pocket. She stood with her back to the house, car behind her, mind anywhere else.

“So your contact was useless,” Roman said with a steady edge, as if he already knew which direction the conversation would go.

Nate glared at him out of the corner of her eyes. “She wasn’t useless.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Then you only heard what you wanted to hear. She knows someone that could help, does she not?”

The firmness in her tone halted further instigating by Roman. It wasn’t the first time she’d stood her ground with him, but this was a little more intense here. Sure, she felt she was losing control over her life. But this was the first time, in that life, that she felt she was losing control over an investigation. Such an unfamiliar feeling. Usually, her father was there, his plans guiding her actions. Usually, she’d be in control of what her role was. Now, she wasn’t sure what her role was, or if control even existed anymore.

Roman narrowed his eyes at her, reading the strain in her body, the square in her shoulders. “So what, you think this someone that Becky mentioned is gonna solve all of this?”

Nate huffed. “No. But it’s something. And right now, we don’t have a lot of ‘something,’ do we?” 

She wasn’t backing down, and he could sense it—the way he, too, was losing control. He was no longer steering things. Standing here, listening to Nate, something shifted, however. It wasn’t a power struggle, not anymore. The harsh reality hit him—she wasn’t Dimitri Volkov. Not cut from the same cloth. And part of her seemed almost relieved about that.

Roman saw it. She wasn’t just standing up to him; she was holding herself together, barely.

“Whoever she mentioned,” Nate began softly, “Might be worth having a look at.”

His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath, running his hand over his beard. He hated the idea of relying on people outside the Bloodline, of being forced to put an ounce of trust in someone he didn’t know. It was bad enough with Nate. “You’re sayin’ we should?”

“Well, it’s either that,” she jumped in bluntly, holding his gaze, “Or accept the fact we got fucked over and deal with knowing we didn’t try our hardest to get to the bottom of it.”

Roman stared at her, taking in the truth behind her words. He hated it, but she wasn’t wrong. They had been hit from all sides, and every lead had dried up before they could act. Nate was standing there, pushing him—yet there was something else in her expression. Something he hadn’t really seen in her before.

Defeat.

Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were dulled by it. Her stance, usually confident and controlled, seemed to sag ever so slightly. The misery etched in her features struck him harder than expected. Was this what he looked like earlier that morning? Did he look this… pathetic?

Nate broke the silence, her tone lighter but laced with finality. “Anyway, I’m gonna go.”

She took a step toward the car, her hand reaching for the door handle, but Roman continued.

“Ah, back to being the perfect daughter, perfect fiancée…” His voice was smoother, more teasing than he probably intended, and for the first time in their tumultuous back-and-forth, he wasn’t doing it to bait her. He didn’t even realise he was doing it at all.

She paused, turning her head toward him, her lips twitching into a small smile despite herself. “Perfect? You’re really pushing it, Reigns.”

“Well, isn’t that the story?” he chuckled. “Y’know… white dress, fairytale ending? Every ‘lil girl’s dream?”

Her smirk cracked into a proper smile. “Don’t tell me you’re that naive, Mr. Head of the Table. Besides, I highly doubt your version of a fairytale has anything in common with mine.”

Roman tilted his head, the charming grin of his slipping into place. “Maybe not. But who knows? Could surprise you, Volkov.”

Nate rolled her eyes but found herself stalling, her hand resting on the car’s handle without pulling it open. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, bol’shoy chelovek.”

She could see the bob of his Adam’s apple, rippling as he swallowed. It sent a little rush of excitement through her to see his unrestrained reaction to her Russian. She’d suspected his enjoyment before, but it was like he wasn’t even hiding it now. 

Opening the car door, she hesitated once more. Roman’s eyes were absolutely glued to her, and before she could get in and close the door completely, he leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a serious tone.

“Get in contact if you hear anything else,” he said. “We’ll figure out our next moves.”

Nate nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. Will do.”

She slid into the driver’s seat, her movements slow, and Roman stepped back, watching as she settled behind the wheel. For a second, neither of them moved, neither willing to break the strange, new rhythm they’d found themselves in. Roman’s arms crossed over his chest as he gave her one final look, a more pliable glimmer behind his otherwise cold, empty eyes. 

Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, Nate pulled the door shut. But when it came time to start the engine and actually pull away… she couldn’t do it. Held back by… something. Not exhaustion, no… It wasn’t even the idea of going back home to her father.

It was the fact that leaving here felt harder than it should have.

As she pulled away, she swore she heard him tell her to “drive safe.” Like he cares what happens… 

But Roman had seen it. The reluctance in her eyes, the same hesitation that had started to creep into his own thoughts. And instantaneously, he realised something else. Something he never thought would push itself to the forefront of his thoughts.

He didn’t like watching her leave, either.

[project-sekai-facts]

emurui arc ender (shocked face)

do you have everything about all of their parents? i for some reason can’t find anything about ichika’s mom, rui’s dad or emu’s mother (i may be blind, pretty sure emu’s mother was mentioned and ichika’s mom was aswell. i know she was mentioned in ichika’s introduction but i haven’t seen her in story yet)

The parents who don’t have physical appearances are generally less important and rarely show up or are mentioned (with a few exceptions) but we do learn some things about them from card stories and such. Here’s some stuff I can remember about the faceless/nameless parents

Ichika’s parents met because they liked the same song. It’s where her name comes from.

also her dad reads manga

We don’t know much about her mother. she's nice though.

Saki and Tsukasa’s mother is a piano teacher. Considering that she’s friends with Harumichi, she probably used to play professionally

We don’t know much about their father, but he has a tendency to spoil Saki (mentioned in Tenma Hinamatsuri)

Honami’s mother is a beautician (mentioned in an area conversation iirc) and her father is a hairstylist (mentioned in Petit SEKAI Episode 6)

Shiho and Shizuku’s mother is a koto instructor and their father used to be a guitarist in a band

We don’t know much about Minori’s parents but they show up in STEP by STEP!. They initially had concerns about her switching courses and being a full-time idol, but after seeing that Minori was prepared and determined to be an idol they let her go ahead

We don't know a huge amount about Haruka and Airi's parents either. Similar to Minori, we know they are nice parents and supportive of their idol careers and that's about it.

Haruka's mother is a nail artist. She was worried about Haruka when she was younger because she rarely smiled.

Kohane's dad is a photographer. He's also the one who bought Count Pearl.

According to Kohane, he has a penchant for coming up with weird names

An mentions in MEIKO's 1* card story that her mother, Yuka, is not a good cook.

I think it's stated somewhere that Yuka is a teacher but don't quote me on that

Akito and Ena's mother makes them eat their carrots because she thinks they should at least try to eat the things they don't like.

She's pretty laid-back and thinks her kids should be able to do whatever they want to do. She's meant to be the polar opposite of Mrs Asahina.

In Ena's fes card it's revealed that she kept some of the old art that Ena threw away in case she ever regretted it

Toya's mother used to bake him cookies a lot and that's why he likes them

She was also very overprotective of him when he was younger and basically wouldn't let him do any recreational games or activities in case he injured himself and couldn't play piano.

She taught Toya to play the violin. I'm assuming that she used to play professionally and that's how she met Harumichi.

We don't really know anything about Emu's mother iirc. She's mentioned occasionally but I don't remember her ever appearing off the top of my head. In Smile of Dreamer it's mentioned that she's abroad doing volunteer work in Cambodia.

Nene and Rui's mothers are good friends due to being neighbours. Nene even used to call Rui's mother "auntie" when they were younger. Her mother recorded a lot of her performances from when she was little.

Beyond that we don't really know anything. I don't remember Nene's dad ever appearing but he is mentioned.

Rui's mother is a biologist, as mentioned in Revival my dream. I have a theory that she mainly works in entomology (study of bugs), or maybe more specifically lepidopterology (study of moths and butterflies), because Rui talks a lot about a moth at one point and has books on butterflies in that event. He talks about some other bugs as well.

His dad is a robotics engineer, also mentioned in Revival my dream. He doesn't actually appear though.

Rui's mother had a very similar background to Rui. She was often called weird and eccentric because of her interest in biology and didn't have any friends until meeting Rui's father, who was really into robotics.

We don't know a huge amount about Mafuyu's father. He does push her to achieve as much as her mother does, but he seems to have limits.

We don't know a lot about Mizuki's parents either, but they are very supportive of them and were worried when they started skipping school

[cantwritethetword]

Music to my Ears

(+ Tickletober2023 Day 15: Cackle)

Fic Descript: Eddie hears Steve's proper laugh for the first time and becomes OBSESSED with hearing it again. Luckily, Eddie has a way to make that happen.

~A/N  - This is my first ever Steddie fic, and I haven't actually got up to Eddie in stranger things😅 but the amount of fics I've read (mostly nhasablogg cause their fics are fucking GOLDEN) makes me think i've got a decent understanding of the guy. lemme know if I completely fuck up his character tho lmao.

Hope this is alright, and hope the start of 2024 has been kind to you all <3

EDIT: This was also meant to be tickletober2023 but I'm adding it in now

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link 

Fighting demonic entities from another dimension is certainly one way to bring people together.

Steve and Eddie certainly didn't have had the most typical start to their friendship, so the pair were more than happy to slide back into a more regular young adult friendship experience once everything had calmed down.

But, the less crazy shit the two experienced, the more Eddie noticed Steve's little quirks that his brain couldn't help but fixate on. Nothing that necessarily bothered him, just weird things that most people probably didn't realise about Steve.

One of those weird things was his laugh. Or, rather, his lack of proper laughter.

Any time someone cracked a stupid joke, or something funny happened in the movie they were watching, Steve would bow his head and let out a few near-silent snickers, before lifting his gaze again with a slightly-too-perfect grin.

The first time it happened, Eddie put it down to nerves. Steve wasn't quite used to hanging out with Eddie's bandmates yet, so of course he would be more reserved than usual.

But it happened again, and again, and again. And the less people that were around, the more confused Eddie became. It was almost like Steve was consciously stopping himself from laughing aloud.

From that point forward, Eddie made it his mission to make Steve laugh. He'd poke fun at Dustin, goof around with his guitar, and add even more dramatic effects to his DnD games. But nothing seemed to crack Harrington.

That was until they were alone.

The pair had been lounging on Eddie's bed, talking back and forth about whatever TV show they had just finished. Eddie had made some stupid joke under his breath, not thinking anything of it. It was nothing out of the ordinary, and had no intent other than maybe getting Steve to roll his eyes.

But with the relaxed atmosphere of Eddie's bedroom, Steve's guard was so far down he didn't have time to pull it back up, and it was almost like the laughter started before either of them realised.

It was high pitched, only a level or two below squeaky, and certainly didn't fit Eddie's old image of 'Douchebag Steve'. The giggles were bright, clear but still bunched together. It came out in a stream for only a few seconds before both men locked eyes with surprise on their faces.

Eddie was entranced. It wasn't a particularly special sounding laugh, but it was coming from Steve. It was Steve's actual real laugh.

The man in question went red, and started stuttering out a "Where were we?" in an attempt to switch the conversation back.

Though Eddie allowed Steve the free pass, and carried the conversation back to Twin Peaks. But his brain kept ticking. Would Steve let that happen again? How could Eddie get him comfortable enough to laugh like that? How could Eddie even make him laugh enough to spill?

Steve was, by now, fully under the impression he had gotten away with it, but Eddie - the meddling kid - was far from ready to let it go.

As the conversation fell to a comfortable lull, Eddie spoke.

"You know, you should laugh like that more often."

Steve completely bluescreened. "Uh- I- What do you mean?"

Eddie sat upright. "Your normal laugh is so... quiet. Just then it felt like you really let go. I liked it."

"No I didn't." Steve's eyes fell to the bedsheets, out of Eddie's gaze. "My normal laugh is my only laugh, I don't have a different laugh."

Eddie chuckled, moving closer and almost looming over Steve. "You really don't want to start this fight with me, I know what I heard."

Still maintaining direct eye contact with the bed, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "There's no fight to be had, I didn't laugh any differently. You can't prove it."

Oh that did it. Those three words struck a chord with the resident musician, and everything clicked into place in his mind.

"I can't prove it, huh?" Eddie smirked. "I think that's where you're wrong, Harrington."

With a predatory glint in his eyes, Eddie launched his fingers onto Steve's ribs and began vibrating his fingertips against the bones.

Steve let out a strangled gasp and tensed up, half-choked grunts squeezing through his sealed lips as his hands fought to pry Eddie's off him.

"Come on Harrington, just lemme hear you laugh." Eddie teased with a wink.

"ED-EDDIE- PL-PLEASE-!" Steve groaned through gritted teeth, snickers beginning to break through his resolve as he gripped Eddie's wrists rigidly.

Almost there Eddie thought to himself. "Just let it happen Stevie."

And happen it did.

It all became just a little too much for Steve's nervous system to handle, and those adorable squeaky giggles Eddie was looking for flooded the room. Steve's hands lost their strength, and his arms crossed weakly in front of his stomach to protect himself. At least, that was the intention. In reality he had just trapped Eddie's ticklish fingers against his sides.

But by this point, Eddie had forgotten all about his little attack. His fingers stopped abruptly only seconds after Steve had cracked. Frozen, Eddie was unable to pull his eyes (and his attention) from Steve's bright giggly smile, even as Steve's laughter faded.

"Fuhuhuhuck..." Steve whined, his hands covering his eyes and breaking the silence that had formed since his little giggle fit had ceased.

Eddie chuckled, ruffling Steve's hair. "I'd say that proved my point, wouldn't you?"

"You tell no one about this." Steve said sternly, lifting himself onto his elbows. "Especially not Robin... or the kids."

Eddie grinned. "Oh I'm happy to keep this between us, our little secret hmm?"

After a quick nod in response, Steve let his gaze drift around the room for a moment. "So... uh... are you gonna let me up or..."

"Pfft, nope." Eddie laughed, and shot his fingertips straight under Steve's arms.

And this time, Steve didn't even try to stop himself.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for staying friends with someone?

I (25, nonbinary) became friends with someone (19F) online because they liked a fanfic I wrote. Let's call her Jessie. At first, Jessie messaged me just to say she enjoyed my fic and shared a fanart she drew of it. I was absolutely blown away by that, and let her know how nice her art was. Which started us having a pretty normal online friendship. Chatting about silly fandom things or ranting about our jobs or school or whatever. She is a really smart and funny person!

Jessie started writing fanfic, which I encouraged. It's fun to write! Of course I would read her fanfic and let her know I enjoyed it.

But then it turned into her only messaging me to read her fanfic. Like, we never can hold a conversation anymore without it turning to talking about her fanfic. I don't even bring up my own fics anymore because I know it will switch the conversation to Jessie's fics.

And, Jessie started to pressure me to write her ideas. Like "Oh, this would be a good idea! You should write this! When are you going to write this! I'll be waiting to read it. Have you written it yet?" When I never agreed to write it. Half the time, it's not even something I would want to write.

Or, I read this one fic and wrote a post on tumblr about how much I enjoyed it, and then minutes later had Jessie spamming my messages about how I should make a post promoting her fics. And exactly which ones I should promote because they don't get enough attention.

But the most recent thing Jessie has been doing that has annoyed me is continuously asking "If I think her fics are just as good as my fics". Like, I'm not a talented author, in my opinion. I'm pretty average. But I feel like the answer Jessie wants is for me to say Jessie's fics are better than mine. It always feels like Jessie wants to put myself under her which is...just not a good feeling. I usually just say I think we are about the same, but Jessie never seems satisfied with that answer.

I feel like our friendship has shifted to Jessie only wanting to use me for attention and the small amount of publicity I can offer. (Which isn't much. It's not like I am a well-known person or anything. I'm certainly not exactly a BNF writer or anything)

Here is where I am asking if I am an asshole. I've gotten to the point where I don't even LIKE Jessie anymore. Her actions have just...soured our relationship. I just roll my eyes when I see a notification from her, or shit talk her in real life to my brother. I procrastinate answering her messages.

But I really don't want to be mean to her face. She has had a really hard time in life. Her parents are kinda shit and her boyfriend left her (which he wasn't so great either). She has a ton of health issues, money issues, relationship issues, etc. I don't want to just drop her and make things worse for her life. But also, I just kinda can't stand the behavior anymore.

Part of me thinks I should just set up more clear boundaries, but on the other hand I just don't want to put in the effort of fighting her for those boundaries. And I am pretty sure it would be a fight.

Am I an asshole for continuing the motions of a friendship for a person I don't even like anymore? Should I just end the friendship and let them move on, or would that be worse?

(Asdfghjkl123)

What are these acronyms?

[deceasedream69]

Ignoring

Summary: Jake x reader. A little angsty but fluffy ending.

A/n: a lot of Spanish that doesn't really matter to the plot, so I'm not gonna translate.

Reader has scarlet with powers.

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

- "but then, le dijo que no quería estar peleando, y todos estábamos viendo y..."

I got carried away with excitement as I was telling a story I considered funny to Jake. I liked the idea that because he spoke Spanish I could just let myself lose in my own native language.

- "I don't understand a thing you're narrating my darling, but you look so beautiful today"

That cut me off and I turned to look at the same face, but different person now. Did Steven really planned to come out right now in the middle of my conversation with Jake? Was Jake bored and just decided to switch and let my rambling for another alter. Of course that alter was going to be Steven.

- "hi, love, I'm sorry for the confusion, I was just gossiping with Jake", I kissed him sweetly and lay down with him before falling asleep. I still had a lot of doubts in my mind that I was sure I had to attend later.

-

- "y luego...", I started my experiment again, there's no way Jake was going to switch so fast, he's been with me for like 10 minutes, it'll be too suspicious or exactly the answer I was looking for. "Pero, pues, no me quise meter porque ya sabes cómo es Tara cuando..."

His eyes looked hypnotized, paying full attention to my words, brows furrowed together for brief moments and his head supported by his hand while he nodded to my words.

- "Hi, Steven", I smiled, tho, inside it hurted knowing damn well what just happened.

- "it always amazes me how you can tell us appart without even saying anything"

I kissed him sweetly.

- "have a good night, my love"

- "you too, my darling"

I couldn't hold it anymore, I was so angry. I checked Steven, he was deep into his sleep, carefully I got out of bed and walked out of the apartment.

A sigh escaped my mouth before walking towards the window. I crawled out of it, the fresh and cold air of the night hitting my face and making me easen up, but not enough.

I flew to where I knew I could let myself go freely. An abandoned building.

I came crushing through the ceiling, all the way from the top, to the bottom. When I reached the bottom I grabbed the first thing that crossed my path, smashing it against the wall, repeating the same over and over and over.

How could he do that to me, was I boring? Where my stories boring? If it's not about sex it isn't worth it to even be out? Just spending time together at least, no, it wasn't enough for him, I wasn't enough.

I broke, smashed and exploded the whole building down, kneeling in front of it when it was almost just ashes. But the last line still ringed through my mind.

I wasn't enough.

Moon knight's pov.

I felt when y/n left the bed, I thought she was just going to the bathroom, but a fair amount of time passed and she didn't come back. Lazily I got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom, my eyes not fully open and my steps clumsy.

- "babe", I knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you okay?"

I yawned and scratched the parts of my body that suddenly were itchy, as I grew more and more sleepy.

- "y/n?" I opened the bathroom door but there was no one there. "Y/n?!" I checked the entire apartment and she wasn't there.

- "this isn't funny, mi vida" I tried calling her but her phone was in the house, that's when I really got worried.

Until a spark caught my eye, outside the window.

The red lights glowing wild and standing out in the dark and lights dead city.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and got changed into my suit.

Y/n's pov.

I couldn't take it anymore, my powers blinked as I lowered my hands, my legs were shaking slightly and my head was spinning, making my vision go blurry.

Moon knight's pov.

When I arrived I was ready to fight whatever y/n was fighting, but an old building wasn't really a worthy opponent.

- "y/n?" I knelt in front of her, turning her slightly, caressing her cheek, she seemed fine, just tired. Taking her in my arms, we came back to the apartment, quickly taking my suit off.

Y/n's pov

Cold.

It was very cold.

I didn't like it, just wanted to stop feeling that coldness. I angrily groaned and tried to move, but my head felt heavy, trying to keep my eyes closed in case the lights could hurt them, but I started to open the slowly, very slowly.

- "too cold", I hugged my own body.

- "are you kidding me? You want me to burn my fingers?"

- "this is hot for you?", I whimpered and hugged myself tightly, putting my knees to my chest level.

- "stop complaining and we'll finish faster"

- "it's too cold"

He sighed in defeat.

- "fine", he turned the hot water knob just a little bit, but enough for my taste.

His touch was slow and careful, my hair was already washed when I woke up.

After picking me up from the bathtub and carrying me to the bed, get got me underwear and lay next to me.

- "can you explain to me what happened today?"

This wasn't Jake, it was softer.

- "thanks for going for me, Marc"

- "anytime, love, but that doesn't answer my question"

- "I got mad at Jake", I wasn't really maintaining eye contact. Too nervous and tired to even try.

- "why were you mad at Jake, love? What did he do?", he lifted my chin with his finger, everything was quiet, the whole moment was just us, which made me even more nervous to talk about what I felt, what happened... and how I couldn't really control my anger at the end.

- " can I talk to him?"

- "I thought your were mad at him"

- "I need to... please..."

He hugged me, making us spoon, him behind me, his arm snaked in front of me.

- "talk to me, mi Cielo"

- "do you think I'm boring? Does something I do makes you feel the need to stop listening to me so desperately you have to change alter"

- "what?", he whispered. I turned around, now facing him.

- "if you're not comfortable listening to something I'm saying, or you just find me annoying, you can just say so, and not make me waste my saliva", I said turning again so he was facing my back.

- "didn't mean to make you feel that way"

- "how did you expect me to react when you just changed to stop listening to me"

He just stayed silent and hold me tighter.

- "I don't always have the best responses, Steven does"

- "I wasn't telling the story to Steven, specially when I'm speaking Spanish", I closed my eyes, making sure I didn't get angry again.

- "tomorrow we're going to that new restaurant you told me about, and you're gonna tell me everything you want, and I'll listen"

- "you can tell me anything you want too, you can trust me", I said facing him again.

- "I know I can... I'm just not sure I deserve..."

- "don't you dare say that, mi Cielo, te amo, I love you with all my heart, and I always will, that's why I love speaking with you and spending time with you, just like I love doing any of those things with any of you three, but when I feel like you love doing it with me too"

- "I'm sorry", he grabbed my hand and kissed it

- "I'm sorry too", I kissed his hand too and he laughed.

- "I don't deserve you...", he smiled, "te amo"

- "te amo" I kissed him sweetly as we fell asleep holding each other.

The end :)

[ultraflavour]

Why there won't be a repeat of the 4E/Pathfinder Era

It's the year 2011. The sentiment on 4th Edition has badly soured with a large portion of the D&D-playing audience, and there's not much else going on in the fantasy sphere.

Dungeon World and Star Wars: Edge of the Empire aren't coming until 2012, and 13th Age won't be for another year after that. But there is one product line at the FLGS that's been getting a lot of buzz, and if you were around at this time, you know exactly what I'm talking about: Pathfinder.

But here's the problem. You, the hypothetical person in this situation, were still kind of having fun with 4th Edition. It didn't seem so bad that the world needed to abandon it outright, but apparently it did.

Now, don't get me wrong. 4th Edition had PROBLEMS. It's not that weird that it collapsed in the way that it did. I'm not going to get into a substantive rules breakdown here, but suffice to say, it needed a refresh. And whatever "D&D Essentials" was, it wasn't enough.

But keep in mind, this is 2011. The online tools required for randoms to play games with each other safely are on the horizon, but they are not here yet. We're still using MapTool. God damn, raise your hand if you remember fucking MapTool. Your options for who to play games with are the same people you'd always been playing games with. So if the group wants to switch games, you're switching games.

"It Feels Too Much Like a Video Game"

But now a new problem arises: Those people need to either make the case for Pathfinder, or make the case against 4th Edition. In 2011, most D&D players do not have anything close to the language they need to articulate what they actually like in TTRPGs, nor form any sort of coherent critical analysis of either system.

Furthermore, you can have a substantive rules discussion about 4th Edition all you want, but how does anyone know that Pathfinder is going to be any better? Until you've actually switched to it and you know what it's all about, you only know that it's "3.75 edition." So there's no real way to know if Pathfinder actually addresses the problems that 4th Edition created until you play it.

So, unable to make the conversation about the rules, Team Pathfinder has to resort to using a Razor. You need a statement that is so undeniable, so impervious to any attempt at refutation that it completely shuts down the argument entirely. And thus you arrive at "It feels too much like a video game."

I have a lot of feelings about this phrase. At the time I was going to school for Computing Science, with the intention of entering the games industry. Video games were not evil to me. So the idea that D&D feeling like a video game did not really register. Surely, that just meant that video games had started to mimic D&D. The Paladin class in World of Warcraft has "Lay on Hands" for god's sake.

Nevertheless, this line of reasoning worked, and part of the reason why it worked was because there was no real way to argue against it. 4th Edition had introduced mechanics from World of Warcraft such as "Tanks" that could "Taunt," and what basically amounted to "Cooldowns" that would refresh conveniently just in time for the next encounter. So that part could not be refuted.

But at the same time, so what? That was just D&D harvesting back ideas from a game that had pretty much used 3rd Edition as the basis for its entire class design. If 4th Edition felt like WoW, that's because WoW felt like D&D.

But it stuck, and Pathfinder enjoyed the most success it would see until probably 2023. 4th Edition fans the world over grumbled, put their Player's Handbook 3s away, and bookmarked the Archives of Nethys. (Yeah, I agreed to play Pathfinder, but I wasn't paying a single red cent for those books. Sorry Paizo, but I did get you back later with Starfinder.)

The OGL is a Flat Circle

Something we were not really "online" to at the time was also the GSL situation. You had to be deep in the forums at that time to understand what was going on, and hahahahahaha absolutely not.

Long story short, the GSL was WotC's first attempt at clamping down on the OGL in preparation for a digital toolset. Sound familiar? Well it happened pretty much the exact same way, except for one crucial difference: They didn't revoke the original OGL. I guess they just kind of assumed that everyone would move over to 4th Edition of their own volition, once 4th had conquered the world. Oops.

The sad part is that there was a Digital Toolset that was apparently the whole reason for doing the GSL in the first place, and it never materialized (For a pretty crazy reason, look it up if you want but it's not for the faint of heart). But this is another way in which history rhymes, because as soon as Wizards thought it had a hit on their hands, they tried to push it into the digital realm, where they could control how players interacted with their product.

So because of this situation, Pathfinder was able to basically reprint the 3rd Edition rules with some touchups and release it as their own product. They simply kept authoring the game under the (still valid) OGL 1.0, and nobody ever moved over to the GSL because thanks to Pathfinder, they didn't have to accept the much more restrictive terms of the new agreement.

This also meant that the "new hotness" was a game built on the bones of a game we had already been playing for nearly a decade. We opened the door of the sleek new sports car only to reveal that it was last year's model with a spruced up dashboard and a new suspension. It was still very much that game, and it brought with it that game's problems, many of which 4th Edition had at least gone some of the way toward solving.

It wouldn't be so galling, but when Pathfinder was pitched to me, I was assured that it had addressed the problems of 3.5e, and it very much had not. It had made meaningful improvements, don't get me wrong, but those improvements were not enough to make up for the system that I had walked away from to get to that point.

The Compromise Choice

5th Edition rode over the hill like Gandalf and the Riders of Rohan. I had a preorder copy waiting for me at the local Chapters in the Metrotown Mall. I remember it well, because I was very excited to pick it up.

People who think of 5E as this dominant, conquering force who weren't around before the Critical Role era might not realize that not everybody was on the 5E train right from the get-go. It had made a lot of controversial removals that some of the more devout Pathfinder believers balked at: Gone flanking, gone skill points, gone (most) feats. Gone stacking +2 bonuses, all replaced with some nebulous thing called "Advantage."

But what was left was a much leaner machine. Combats in 5E were downright breezy compared to Pathfinder and even 4th Edition. The narrative-forward features that many had criticized 4th Edition for removing were back.

But also notably absent were a lot of the features that people liked in 4th Edition, like the "Bloodied" condition, skill challenges and Minions. WotC could not have another 4E on their hands with this one, so it had to look at feel the way people remembered it when they actually liked the game.

So, we compromised in the interest of finally bringing everyone to the table again. Eventually the 1-2 punch of Critical Role and Stranger Things led to the game ballooning into the giant that nobody knew it could be. By the release of Xanathar's Guide to Everything in 2017, the 5E era was well and fully underway, and it had gained such a lead that it would be almost impossible for any independent company to catch up.

Vomiting in Stanzas

But as ol' George Lucas would say, history is like poetry, it rhymes. And so, eyeing the digital landscape once again, Wizards of the Coast blasted its own dick and balls off with a shotgun in January 2023 with the OGL crisis, shattering a long-held truce with its third party creators.

And so once again, with Wizards of the Coast dangling its 3rd party creators over the ledge like John Matrix in Commando, it was up to Pathfinder to save the day. Months worth of stock flew off the shelves in a matter of weeks, as once again the D&D community was left to answer the question of "What are we to do if D&D fails us?"

Except this time, things were different for my table. Because we had been proactive. About a year prior, I had already been getting a bit tired of interminable D&D 5E, and my group was ready for something new. We made a surprising discovery that changed a lot about how I thought about the TTRPG industry as a whole.

Lancer was like a bolt of lightning from the heavens. Up until we played Lancer, we had attempted a lot of different systems but none of them had stuck. Dungeon World, Blades in the Dark, Warhammer 40k: Wrath and Glory, Star Wars Edge of the Empire, all thrown on the heap. None of those could replace D&D for us, for various reasons.

Lancer, on the other hand, was clearly made by people who were fans of the same parts of D&D that I was. The part where it forced you to play on a grid, drawing templates, glorious keywords. And perhaps most importantly, every mech had something approaching the concept of "Powers" that had been lost in the move from 4th to 5th.

And it was just fun. It had rules that enforced a 3-4 fight per level pacing that actually made the concept of attrition much more predictable than the loosey-goosey "let's just take a long rest now so we have all our spell slots" approach of 5E. And it forced us to actually finish adventures using a mission-like structure, tempering our worst DM impulses to just let things drag on and on in the interest of an "epic" story.

But what really struck me was that Lancer was written and maintained by such a small team. The majority of the combat mechanics were written and designed by Tom Parkinson-Morgan, who previously had been mostly known as the author of Kill Six Billion Demons.

This was not a case of some tenured TTRPG company dropping their masterpiece and shocking the world. This was a scrappy upstart conquering the Itch.io charts because, and I quote, "People are horny for mechs." Not only were they able to offer a digital toolset that rivals (and in some ways exceeds) the one that the billion-dollar company could put together, they also were able to get their product onto bookstore shelves this year thanks to a strategic partnership with Dark Horse.

It meant that brands other than the big, established players could do exactly what they did, and in some cases, better. It changed the game, literally.

Our Cup Runneth Over

So now, with the OGL 1.1 unpleasantness sending the brand of D&D firmly into the "uncool zone" once more, the D20 Fantasy community returns to Pathfinder with hat in hand.

But this is the part where things have changed.

Because this time we actually have options beyond just "Pathfinder, again." Want more of a "retro" Dungeon Crawler? There's Shadowdark, and the rest of the OSR that's been humming along in the background! Want something a bit more on the storytelling side of things? There's Fabula Ultima, or any number of PbtAs or Forged in the Dark games.

And if you, like me, are still mourning the death of 4th Edition, now there's Draw Steel from MCDM, which is taking up that banner and waving it for the sad dorks like me to rally under. And a cry rings out: "4th Edition was not perfect but it was actually pretty fun and Pathfinder wasn't really a suitable substitute!" It doesn't fit too well on a t-shirt, we can workshop it.

In a way, the 4E/Pathfinder scenario has flipped: This time, the incumbent in the election is the game that's built on "the old ways," and the incoming contenders are the ones who are making the bigger swings. It changes the conversation considerably when "the consensus choice" is also the one based on the oldest ideas. Its proponents don't really have an argument to make beyond "It's what we've always done, don't rock the boat."

Golarion's Strongest Soldiers

But perhaps more importantly, the group doesn't need to all agree on a game any more. It's never been more viable to find a pickup game on the internet than it is right now.

I've been giving Pathfinder a lot of shit this article, but I'm actually playing in a PF2E game on Sundays right now. I wanted to give 2nd Edition a shot to see if they had actually changed the parts of the game that I was most unhappy about and... Well, frankly they haven't, but that's not really a problem at this point.

Now that OGL mania has subsided and the incoming wave of PF2e players has somewhat crested, the people who have remained are the ones who didn't crawl back to 5E once it was deemed "safe" to do so. Those who have remained are the people who actually want to be there, rather than the ones who compromised for the sake of group harmony. Otherwise they'd just be playing 5E, again.

No More Compromise

That's the future that we should be moving towards, a future where nobody has to compromise for the sake of the group. 30,000 people backed the MCDM game on Backerkit, and the video where the Critical Role team makes Daggerheart characters currently has over 900,000 views on Youtube. The OGL didn't just fracture the D&D community, it created whole new ones.

Plus, there's a whole industry of indie creators who are begging for recognition. Review channels like Quinns Quest, Dave Thaumavore, and Questing Beast are increasing awareness about smaller titles, to the point where it's becoming less and less of an excuse to say that you don't know what's out there.

All that's required now is for those people to find each other, and Discord makes that really easy to do. Every publisher has its own Discord at this point because why wouldn't you, so everyone knows where to go to get a game going. Plus there's still Subreddits, and now services like Startplaying.games. And VTTs are more sophisticated than they've ever been.

Like I said: things have changed since 2011.

5E is just going to get weirder

So even if 5E probably isn't going away, the people who remain behind will increasingly be rubbing shoulders with the real cranks, the true freaks who only think in terms of words like "Action economy." And you know what? God bless. You've clearly found something you love, and I love that for you.

If you are sticking with D&D because you genuinely love it, then great. But if you're sticking to it because you're afraid to know what else is going on out in the scene, just know that you are increasingly going to be sharing the 5E community with people who have to make up the same justifications as you are. The FOMO will drive you mad.

I know, because I'm a pro-wrestling fan who doesn't watch WWE. I watch every day as people tear their hair out every time they see people online bragging about how much fun they're having with other companies. The cognitive dissonance of having made a hard choice about which product to spend your time and money on, only to see other people enjoying different products, gnaws at your soul.

It leads to stupid bullshit like Console Wars. It drives you mad, until eventually you're so deep in the tank that you're subscribing to podcasts whose only job is to talk shit about "the alternative" just so you feel better about the choice you've made.

So if you are sticking with 5E, you have to really know that it is the right choice for you. Because the people leaving it for other games have made similarly strong choices. It absolutely would be easier to just stick with 5E, but at the same time, that's going to be less and less of a good idea as the game gets more stale (and more "digital-first"), and the people who stay behind get weirder and more reactionary.

At this stage in the game's lifecycle, there would have been a 6th Edition, but now that we've seen the new Core Rulebook refresh for 2024, we can definitively say that that's not happening any time soon. Unless something really surprising happens and Wizards gets their clocks cleaned by the combined forces of the OGL, Daggerheart, Draw Steel and Core20, or the looming shadow of Brandon Sanderson actually manages to consume the entire industry as the prophecy foretold.

Even then, it seems unlikely that they'll ever totally kill the Golden Goose. But don't worry, 5E is evolving, except the thing it's evolving into is a morass of hacks and kludges thanks to the Creative Commons license. Then you'll get a new movement of "5E purists" who remember "The good old days" when healing potions WEREN'T a bonus action, back when you still had to house rule that in, as god intended!

It's do or die time

At this point, I hate to say it, but if in some bizarre freak occurrence all of the new alternatives like Daggerheart and Draw Steel utterly collapsed, I would probably just quit the TTRPG hobby entirely. If D&D went back to being the all-encompassing monster that it became during the 00's and mid-10's, then it would simply prove that this industry will never be mature enough to justify the emotional investment.

There likely won't be a better chance than right now. A failure here would be held up as precedent, to say "See? The last time you peasants rebelled against D&D, this happened." Hell, someone on Twitter used the RPG "Quest" as a snarky rejoinder to someone asking about how they felt about new fantasy TTRPGs!

I don't think that nightmare scenario is going to happen, I'm just making a rhetorical point that nothing that D&D could do at this point could get me to agree to going back to spell slots, death saving throws, and the fucking action economy, even if it somehow did manage to go back to being "The only game in town." I hear that "We're not going back" is a pretty popular slogan lately, I have to assume they're talking about not going back to 5E, right?

Editor's note: The audience is going to be doubled over in pain at that great US Politics joke, might as well just end the article here.

[classificationhell]

I love your new chapter of Mourningstar, btw! Amazing work as always! How would Lucifer (both au and normal), Alastor, and Fizz and Ozzie handle their little who is very handsy? She's constantly trying to grab and pet Alastor's ears, Lucifer's hair and hat, and Fizzy's hat because she thinks they look neat.

Alastor doesn't completely hate touch from certain people, Mimzy, Niffty, Charlie, and of course his Little. He has a decent amount of patience for it, and you're honestly the only one he'll let get away with actually petting his ears. However, that being said he does have a limit.

He'd never yell at then I feel, and he'd never pull out a switch just for something he normally, or at least 7 out of 10 times, doesn't mind and isn't a disruptive, rude, or dangerous behavior. Instead when he has had enough, but you're regressed and still want to pet him he'll drop you off with 'Uncle Husker' as you call him (he finds it both funny, as Husk claims to hate it and gets annoyed, and a bit irritating as he doesn't like the implication of them being related).

For either Lucifer they are completely fine with it. They could be trying to have a conversation for whatever reason to anyone and you're playing with their hat and the person is confused, if it's not Charlie or Vaggie, because the king of hell is letting a Little do whatever with his hat and hair without even missing a beat in the conversation as if this was such a usual occurrence it didn't register to them. Both will let their Littles play with or wear the hats. Where they differ is Lucifer likes the attention, but Mourningstar absolutely needs it. The second you start this behavior with Mourningstar expect to be doing it every day or he will actively cry because, "My babygirl haaaates me!"

Fizzarolli doesn't mind it so much after you know what he looks like and knows you won't be freaking out about it, but before he's going to be holding his hat tightly and paranoid about you yanking it off.

Edit to add: Thank you I'm glad you liked the second chapter as it gave me some trouble lol

[backjustforberena]

Thoughts whilst watching Corlys and Rhaenys reunite in 1x10 (YELL AT ME AND I MIGHT ADD GIFS):

You have it start with the music as Corlys opens his eyes and then the music fades out. It’s so similar to their other two one-on-one scenes (in 1x05 and 1x07), where there was no music. I love thinking about these scenes as a trio, really reflecting the journey this couple ash been on.

The set up is perfect. You’ve got Corlys who’s so physically imposing and dynamic and usually has the most movement in these scenes, bedbound and not able to do much. And then you’ve got Rhaenys who has been such a pillar of strength and composure and armoured and on guard for the last few episodes... now vulnerable.

Seriously, the visual impact of Rhaenys in comparison to earlier in the episode. She’s not had her armour off until this point. She’s got her belt off, the first few buckles are undone on her jacket, and her hair is now out of the ponytail.

AND SHE’S GOT A CLOTH IN HER HAND. I will forever yell about the cloth in her hand. She fell asleep tending to him. Also; jeez louise, the amount of stress this woman has been under and now she’s fallen asleep in a chair.

This is the first time he’s seeing her. It’s not the first time she’s seen him. But both of them see one another whilst the other is asleep, which is kind of cool. But it so gives Rhaenys the advantage.

THAT OPENING LINE. I adore it. It’s so stupid. I want to know Steve’s reaction to reading that for the first time because it is the Corlys-equivalent of a really cheesy pick-up line. And the amazing thing is that because he tries it, you know he’s done it before and it’s worked. What a guy. And he smiled before the punchline.

“You abandoned me. When I most needed you.” I mean, just stab me, it’d hurt less. But it’s the most honest that Rhaenys has been, if not in the whole series, then at least after the time jump and in relation to the situation she was left with. People have been throwing her precarious position and her husband’s absence in her faith and she never said a word, never commented, never betrayed. But the first time she sees her husband, she lets him know. 

She’s so capable, she’s navigated all these political waters, the physical threat to her life, the years alone and she’s been fine and formidable and victorious but it’s STILL: “I needed you.”

Also the delivery of this speech is what I always think about when I listen to Eve call Rhaenys “intense”. It’s so concentrated. Her entire being is focused on getting this message through to Corlys. She can forgive him, so long as he knows. It’s still so controlled, so pointed, so purposeful. All she’s doing is sitting in a chair, telling the truth, and she’s eviscerating him.

Corlys is a man who feels he has no self-worth if he can’t look into his wife’s eyes. I truly believe that. There are two times in this portion of the conversation he looks away from Rhaenys and looks like he’s in agony. Both are when he’s reminded not just that he left her, but that he shouldn’t have. And I think that’s why, apart from war, it takes six bloody years for him to come home. He didn’t want to look in his wife’s eyes.

“We lost, Corlys. We.” - and he gives this tiny nod. Whatever story he’d been telling himself, whatever excuses, whatever justification... Rhaenys is right. And he hadn’t seen it. I think it’s also important that he doesn’t respond to it. In previous scenes, when she’s pushed back on him or done something similar, he’s had a response. (Maybe there’s a comparison gifset in there...)

AND THEN WE GET A SWITCH UP. There’s a before and an after. Both in terms of switching up the conversation from him abandoning her to there being a new King, but physically and it’s the physical one that interests me the most. We go from Rhaenys leaning forwards, in her chair, furious, and over Corlys... to a levelling. Rhaenys gets up and sits on the bed. They’re equal again. They’re literally closer. And her anger has gone so she’s just tending his wounds as he looks at her. And we get that lovely shot of them finally together, in the same shot, connected. You know that they’re moving forward together as now the audience is allowed to see that physical closeness and the intimacy of Rhaenys washing his hands. Even if she has still got her guard up a little.

“The Stranger casts a long shadow over this family.” UNDERRATED LINE. 

I mean, she puts that cloth on his brow and Corlys gives her a look. And it’s the best look because it’s puppy eyes but it’s also the first time he’s properly, unflinching looking at his wife in six years. You can’t tell me he’s not seeing everything she’s been through written on her face.

It’s Rhaenys’s turn not to look at him, as she tells him all about Vaemond. Whether that’s guilt because she couldn’t stop it, resentment because it’s the fruit of all the flaws she’s had been trying to address before Corlys left her, or just a mechanism to stop herself from losing composure, I don’t know.

Hand on the chest. HAND ON THE CHEST!!!

A beat as he looks straight at her. Then: “You were right, Rhaenys.” - she instantly looks at him. Again, just stab me. And when we cut back to him, THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS.

Sad that her being told she’s right is no consolation. She’s not happy about it, she barely reacts. She reacts so slightly when Corlys starts verbally beating himself up. It’s heartbreaking because she loves him: she didn’t want this to happen to him as much as the outcome might be a good one. 

This was his Great Council. This was his humbling. They are now, finally, on the same page.

I’m always fascinated by the choices they make when discuss “our” or “we” vs “I” and “you”. This crops up a lot with them. Here, Corlys says “I reached”, but it’s “our pursuit.” - I really like the feel of that.

And if I wasn’t sad before, I am now. She looks like a weight has been lifted but then he says they’ll declare for no one and she shifts again. The small smile drops. Then it’s just about there as he spells out what her dream would be, just before it cuts back to him. ALSO AT SOME POINT A TEAR HAS FALLEN. Gdi Eve Best and your shiny eyes.

Steve said an interview that Corlys, at that point, is saying what he thinks Rhaenys will want to hear. He means it in the moment, he believes that where they are in the world now, not being near the Throne, is okay. But I don’t think he ever would have stayed out of the conflict. It’s not who he is. STILL HOLDING HANDS THOUGH.

And Rhaenys knows it. She knows as soon as she spells it out, they will be in it, and they will be in it till the bitter end. What she says next will change everything. And it does, even in terms of just the immediate as Corlys gets angry and fired up about Rhaenyra. The conversation has changed once again.

I just want to point out the hands. When Corlys says Rhaenyra was complicit in Laenor’s death, Rhaenys had a hand over hers and Corlys’s. She takes that top hand off. What when Rhaenys pulls away from him, not only are both her hands with his, but his free hand was on her elbow. They got so close so quickly. I love the intimacy.

It’s also another example of Corlys turning things emotional and Rhaenys trying to be practical. It’s just great conflict. Well deserved conflict but also well handled conflict between them as a couple. As much as Rhaenys is finally winning the argument and he’s acquiescing to her wishes, it feels like a natural continuation and restoration of the dynamic we’ve seen with them before, especially when held together against how they start the scene vs how they begin the next one, walking in together.

Corlys being an active listener. Dude doesn’t even blink. Each word hitting home, doing it’s job. Rhaenys knows more than him and he’s listening to that. He knows she’s right and I’m sure there is a part of him that’s ready for the next fight and willing to direct his restlessness somewhere. Our boy Corlys likes a cause. He like justice. He likes things cut and dry. 

I think Rhaenys’s words are less “go back Rhaenyra she’s now wonderful” but more “every man is urging war, but you know war, you know battle, you have the opportunity to help SHAPE this upcoming conflict. Rhaenyra is the only one demonstrating restraint. Someone else needs to.” - it’s about HELPING, and the reasons for helping are clear: their grandkids. They can’t turn away. This is backed up by the way that Corlys basically just dominates that next scene.

To summarise: healthy conflict, vulnerability on show, not a word wasted, body language, THEY LOVE EACH OTHER, three stages to the conversation, HANDS, a restoration of a dynamic.

[gimmie-a-sammich]

To Rule Them All | Chapter 4 | Beginning of the End

Pairings: Idol!Ateez/???!Ateez x Fem!Original Characters

Summary: Alexis is about to have the summer of a lifetime traveling the country with some of her best friends following one of her favorite groups, Ateez. Little do they know, there is more to this group than meets the eye. Take a trip into the dark as they navigate a world unseen.

Genre: (18+ Minors DNI) smut, angst, fluff, supernatural vibes 

Chapter Warnings: cursing, more hauntings, mentions of past traumas, slight harassment from an ex

Word Count: 5k

read here on AO3

To Rule Them All masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

**

Hongjoong briefly surveyed the faces of the members in front of him, mixes of frustration and just straight up anger showing on each of them. None of them looked impressed with his sudden announcement. He knew he had caught them off guard, but Wooyoung had forced his hand. Typically, they had at least one more day before their final decisions, making them from the comforts of whatever hotel they were staying at. But not this time. He had let his emotions overtake him and cause him to make the rash decision to deviate from their usual selection ritual.  He knew it may make their upcoming flight to the States more tense, but at this point he couldn’t care less about their feelings regarding the matter. He was frustrated with himself, mainly with the fact that he had been caught breaking the rules that he had carefully drawn up throughout the years. Now, he could only imagine what off-limit excursions the other seven had been taking. 

“I think a few reminders are in order before we begin," Hongjoong declared, clearing his throat before continuing on. "Once decisions are made, they are final. No switching. No trading of partners. You know how important these initial connections for feedings are. No unauthorized visits after decisions are made. We don’t need to keep tabs on them as frequently beyond this point. Feedings at most every other day to keep them from expiring on us. We don't want someone else ending up in an asylum, now do we? Most importantly, no feedings outside of dreams, and absolutely no attachments.”

After his statements, Hongjoong looked at each member more intently, taking note of how each one of them avoided his gaze. A submission of guilt, he thought to himself. Not that he had any room to judge. The only one brave enough to meet him was Wooyoung, his dark eyes filled with silent laughter. He smirked at him, knowing full well how hypocritical it was for Captain to be preaching about rules he also so carelessly broke. 

Soft mumblings continued to fill the room as each took in their leader’s words. Conversations of who everyone was going to choose rumbled, calmly at first before the volume of the room increased as the debates between them escalated to new heights, causing Hongjoong to lean forward, rubbing his temples in frustration. He had never seen the group become this riled up when it came to decision making. Normally, this was a much smoother process, maybe filled with an argument here and there, but nothing that couldn’t be resolved quickly. This was new for all of them, and something Hongjoong attributed to the sheer amount of emotional connection they all had already developed towards this group of girls. 

There was something different about this group of chosen ones, something that even Hongjoong couldn’t quite put his finger on. He had been willing to overlook the carelessness of some of the members, knowing that he felt a string tugging deep inside of him, pulling him towards one of them. He had noticed how often everyone stayed within their rooms recently, isolating themselves instead of spending time together. He wasn’t naive enough to not realize what they were doing behind closed doors. Hell, he was just as guilty as the rest of them, sneaking away during any free time he was provided to go on these unauthorized visits. But the interaction with Wooyoung flung him back into the reality of their current arrangement, one that was filled with loneliness and harsh goodbyes. The realization left him feeling like a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown upon him, shocking his brain back into the mindset of a leader and washing away his own personal desires. 

"We will determine the order how we always have," he snapped, breaking up the intense side conversations immediately. He picked himself up off the ground with a flourish and reached for the small velvet pouch resting on the couch to his left. He untied the bag and set it on the center of the living room table, exposing the brightly colored folded papers hidden within, mocking the members with its secrets. "Random draw. On each is a number from one to eight. You know the rest from there. Two per girl. Know that you might not get your first choice, and prepare to have a second option. Keep them folded until everyone has picked. Oldest draws first.”

He held the bag out to Seonghwa. Thoughts filled the eldest’s head in anticipation, a look of excitement flickering over his somber face before moving towards concern. "Can we have five more minutes to settle into our decisions… you sprung this on us without warning. We usually have tonight for our final visit. Maybe we need a bit more…” Seonghwa began, but was instantly cut off by Hongjoong.

“It wouldn’t make a difference… you won’t find anyone home,” he said without thinking. His eyes widened, filling with regret over his loose words as Seonghwa raised a questioning eyebrow. 

Wooyoung cackled, rearing his head back in laughter while he slapped his knee. “Way to rat yourself out, Capt.”

The room exploded once more over Hongjoong’s apparent admission of a rule break. San and Mingi stood up, each of them pointing wildly around the room while their loud voices drowned out the others around them. Jongho stared at their leader through narrowed eyes, very clearly scrutinizing each of his decisions up until this point. Seonghwa began to silently pace the area behind the couch, running his fingers through his freshly dyed platinum hair in irritation of the events around him. Yeosang stayed within his seat on the worn armchair, eyes rolling, too used to his brothers’ fighting to warrant any more of a reaction. Wooyoung’s eyes never left Hongjoong, laughing sharply and relishing in the fact that his entire world had been set ablaze. Yunho, who had remained silent while he assessed the reactions of his brothers, stood and stepped closer to Hongjoong, face composed despite the annoyance running through him. 

"First off, why are they not at home? Why aren’t any of them home?” he asked, his calm voice cutting through the chaos of the room. “More importantly, how do you know this?” 

“Yeah, Joongie… how do you know this?” Wooyoung sneered, casting his eyes back to Hongjoong as six other pairs followed suit. 

“ENOUGH!” Hongjoong bellowed, rattling everyone in the room as his scarlet eyes flashed dangerously. Gone was their lovable, always put together leader, and in his stead was the Pirate King they had once known. He threw his hands up in frustration, his eyes flaming with rage. “How I know is NONE of your concern.” He thrust the small pouch back out to Seonghwa. “Draw.”

The silence in the room was deafening after the outburst. Seonghwa fumbled in his reach towards the pouch, avoiding Hongjoong’s eyes at all cost. He carefully lifted an orange slip of paper, tucking it into his hands meekly. Hongjoong drew next, grasping at another slip and shoving it into his pocket without a second glance. The rest of the group drew their colored pieces in similar fashion, all taking care to avoid the eyes of their leader. Nervous glances filled the room once all eight pieces had been removed from the small bag, knowing that those small scraps of paper held their fates.

“Hana, dul, set,” Captain said, giving the directive to unfold the tiny slips of paper. He looked about the room. The faces peering back at him were void of all emotion, their blank stares would put the best poker players to shame. “One.”

“Alexis,” San’s confident voice broke the silence, answering the question with zero hesitation. His face filled with relief the second he said her name. 

Wooyoung snorted next to him, elbowing him playfully. “Partners once again,” he stated, holding up the piece of paper with the number two clearly written on it. 

Murmurs filled the room. This was a surprising turn of events; never has a girl been completely off the table from the first two draws. Hoongjoong quickly silenced the budding commotion with a harsh stare.

“Three.”

“Thea.” It was Yunho’s voice that came next, staking his claim with as much confidence as San. He caught the glances of several members with raised eyebrows. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I like the purple hair, what can I say? And… she’s tiny.” 

His last comment garnered more side eye glances. Yunho definitely had a type, to say the least. Mingi’s boisterous laugh broke the tension as he slapped his best friend on the arm lightheartedly. The other members quickly joined, joking about Yunho’s consistency with his choices. Hongjoong shook his head, fighting the temptation to laugh along with the rest of them. 

“Four.”

Seonghwa’s smooth voice entered the fold. “Nikki,” he said, a shadow of a smile appearing on his face. 

Hoongjoong’s heart began to race. Being in the latter half of the process always put him on edge, even more so this time around. It was impossible to judge what Mingi, Yeosang, or Jungho were thinking. Their expressions continued to be blank, but their eyes were widening with each name, betraying their otherwise cool exteriors. 

“Five.”

Jungho beamed a gummy grin, aiming it in Yunho’s direction. “Thea… I agree, something about that purple hair.”

“Two pairings set,” Hongjoong said matter of factly, squashing any additional comments before they had a chance to be said. “Six.”

 “Christie,” Yeosang said, his deep timbre rolling through the room. He sunk deeper into the chair following his choice, relaxation taking the place of the tension that had been visible throughout his body. 

Hongjoong glanced toward Mingi before looking at the crumpled number seven lying in his hand. His eyes then turned to Yeosang. A silent understanding was made between the two as delicate, twisted smiles snuck onto their faces. “Christina.” 

An unspoken question hung in the air now that there was only one name left. All eyes were on Mingi, who had been uncharacteristically silent up until this point.

“Everything has a way of working out, huh? I’m going last and still getting who I wanted,” Mingi smirked, leaning back on the couch as he placed his long arms behind his head. 

With the commotion earlier in the night, Hongjoong was surprised with how smoothly this process went. There were no arguments, not even an inkling of one when it came to the actual decisions. Apparently this entire evening was going to be one of firsts. He resumed his position at the front of the room, his bandmates waiting for the next directive now that the stage for the coming months had been set. He tried to gather their feelings from the faces in front of him, but once again he was looking at a sea of blank stares. 

“Uhhh… question,” Yunho asked quietly, raising his hand to gain the attention of the leader. “How are we supposed to find them if they aren’t at their homes? We haven’t made the connection yet…”

“AirBnB in Fort Worth. I’ll send everyone the address,” Wooyoung’s sharp voice rang through the room. Hongjoong shot daggers at him, but the false maknae couldn’t care less. “What? I looked through Alexis’s laptop… it’s also all she’s talked about for days. Really, all of them. Did none of you pay attention? Or was everyone too busy sneaking around to care?” 

Wooyoung's latest jab seemed to affect the guys more than any of them would have liked to acknowledge. Hongjoong rolled his eyes before returning back to Yunho’s question.

“Thanks to Woo being a complete stalker, that won’t be an issue,” he jeered, casting a dark look over to Wooyoung. 

“You say being a stalker… I say due diligence in making sure we know what’s going on. Something that usually falls within your job description, does it not?” Wooyoung retorted aggressively, not taking kindly to Hongjoong’s humor. 

Hongjoong couldn’t even warrant a response, and Wooyoung knew it. He had been shirking on his duties. He ignored the wondering looks from the other members’ faces, questioning why Wooyoung’s mouthiness was being tolerated. He rarely let Wooyoung speak to him this way, and now he had allowed it twice without consequence. But Hongjoong had no grounds to stand upon, so instead he simply shook his head before continuing on. “No more contact until the night before the concert. We’ll establish connections then. I mean it. NO contact. You all may think you’re being clever, but none of you are as sneaky as you think.” 

“Including you apparently,” Jongho mumbled, causing laughter to thunder through the room. 

Hongjoong’s face immediately flushed beet red, blushing with the realization that he had indeed been found out. Seonghwa stepped over to him and placed a reassuring arm around his shoulder, squeezing it playfully. 

“It’s a little fun to break the rules once in a while, isn’t it?” he whispered before leading him out of the room. Seonghwa ignored Hongjoong’s scowl and called back into the other’s still lounging in amongst the couches. “Go finish packing, if you haven’t already. We leave here in an hour for the airport.” 

__________

The day in Nashville had positively flown by. I felt like I barely had a chance to breathe between the insane pace Thea had set for us and being doubled over in laughter 95% of the time. It was always like that whenever we got together, laughing, joking, and just enjoying each other’s company in person whenever we had the chance. We had made it a point to get together at least a couple of times a year, even though we all stayed in constant communication with the never ending video calls. The dynamics were definitely going to change some now that Christie, Nikki, and I all lived within miles of each other, but that just made our desire to have Thea and Adam move even greater. The k-pop compound that we all secretly hoped would come to fruition was realistically within our grasp with a bit more convincing. 

I relaxed into the soft cushions of Thea’s oversized mocha brown armchair, exhaustion from the hours in the car and the events of the day quickly coming over me. To end our marathon of a day, we all decided to wind down by watching ‘Guardian: The Lonely and Great God.’ My eyelids were growing heavier with each passing minute, and I was just waiting for one of the other three to call me out for my slow blinks, my tell tale sign that it was time for me to go to bed. In reality, all of us needed to get to sleep soon, given the fact that Nikki, Christie, and I had to be up with the sun to make the final ten and half hour trek to Fort Worth. 

“Alexis… love,” Christie’s hushed voice came beside me. 

“Hmmm?” I hummed, struggling to lift my heavy lids. I hadn’t even realized I had dozed off during one of the episodes. Once I finally forced my eyes open, I saw that the living room was now empty and the TV had been turned off. 

“Officially bedtime, so get your cute booty up, sleepy head,” she teased, her green eyes glinting playfully in the dim light from the lamp beside me. She nudged me gently, her way of encouraging my numb body off the chair.

I groaned, but slung my feet off the chair with a soft thud and sat up, rubbing my eyes so hard that I forced myself to see stars. I shuffled behind Christie towards the bedroom we would be sharing tonight. Thankfully I was smart and had already done my nighttime routine before we began our viewing party, so all I had to do was crawl into the fuzzy blankets awaiting for me. I faintly felt Christie tuck me in tenderly before drifting back to sleep. 

Christie and I were jolted awake by a third body leaping into the bed. I groaned, wanting to take full advantage of every single minute of sleep I could. I opened my eyes to see Thea wriggled in the space between Christie and I. 

I grabbed one of the pillows from behind my head and brought it down onto Thea’s smiling face. “Theadoraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… go away,” I mumbled, saying her full name with every ounce of sass I could muster this early in the morning. I was one of the few people who could get away with using it, and I tended to abuse that right more often than not. 

“You know better than to disturb me without coffee,” Christie grumbled. “Really, how are you so awake?” 

She flung the pillow off her before sitting up and turning to face Christie and I. She pouted, crossing her arms in front of her slim body. Her dark brown eyes bored into us, looking almost as black as her large, square rimmed glasses. Thea had always been the earliest riser of the group, so it was no surprise that she became our alarm clock this morning. 

“Coffee is ready in the kitchen,” she singsonged, her voice a soft contrast to the death glare she was giving Christie. 

I sat up, squinting at her. She was completely dressed, wearing a pair of royal blue high waisted athletic shorts and a white long sleeved t-shirt with a twist detail, showing off her thin waist. Her bright purple hair and makeup were both already done. The only thing out of the norm for her was her glasses, which she normally only wore at night. 

“Why are you dressed already?” I asked her, tilting my head to the side quizzically. Early riser or not, there was no reason why she would be ready, considering she said she had the entire day off.

“SURPRISE!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air with a flare. “I’M COMING!”

I leapt up and flung my arms around her, tackling her back down onto the bed. “HOW DARE YOU KEEP THIS FROM US!” I shouted back, having to yell over the sound of Christie’s excited squeals. 

“We’ve had this planned since the day of the drawing,” Nikki’s smooth voice came from the doorway. She was leaned against the frame, her long black hair pulled up into a ponytail, which only emphasized the midnight blue highlights poking underneath. She was dressed in leggings and a tank top, all in her typical black. She was clutching the only thing keeping her alive: coffee. She smirked at the three of us on the bed, excitement glittering in her icy blue eyes. “It was hard to keep the secret, but the reaction was so worth it.” 

Thea untangled herself from the bed and joined Nikki at the door. “We’re leaving in less than an hour, so hurry up! I’ll have breakfast made for everyone in thirty,” she called as they both made their way down the hallway, leaving Christie and I to pull ourselves out of bed and get ready for yet another day spent on the road. 

It didn’t take too much effort at least. I threw on the joggers and crop top I had laid out the night before, pairing them with my favorite chunky Adidas sneakers and quickly French braided my hair into two pieces. I slopped on some concealer, eyeliner, and mascara, and was on my way to the kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the air and guiding me to my destination. Christie was not far behind me, dressed in leggings and a cropped teal crewneck with her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. 

Thea had already set her breakfast nook with four plates loaded with food and steaming cups of coffee, one most definitely with Christie’s name on it. Christie sat down in front of it and immediately scooped the mug into her hands, bringing it to her lips and taking a large sip before letting out a sigh of relief. Cooking for everyone was definitely one of Thea’s love languages, and something she tended to do often whenever we were all together. 

“Told you I had coffee ready,” Thea mocked. “I learned very quickly about the demons residing within you and Nikki that could only be subdued by caffeinated beverages.” 

“Bean water is better than that splishy splashy bullshit you and Alexis seem to think we need,” Nikki shot back, sliding into the booth alongside me. 

I leaned my head onto Nikki’s shoulder, feeling her tense up slightly from the unexpected affection before relaxing back underneath me.  “Well… somebody has to make sure you take care of yourself. You did elect me as the responsible one, remember?” I jested.  

Her response was a light flick to my forehead, causing me to lift my head off her with a muffled hey before rubbing spot on my head. She snorted into her hand as Thea came and joined us at the table, the four of us continuing on with our banter while eating what Thea had so lovingly prepared. Once plates were cleared and bellies were filled, Thea gathered the plates and cleaned up the kitchen while the rest of us reloaded Nikki’s SUV. By some miracle we were running right on schedule, and Thea quickly locked up her house while the debate began on the dreaded seating arrangements. 

Nikki, of course, wanted to have permanent residency either as the driver or navigator for the entirety of the drive, adamant that we would all enjoy the ride much more. Arguing with her was like trying to stop a storm from rolling in, so we all gave into her whims. Honestly, it meant that I could lounge in the back seat when I wasn’t driving, something I would most definitely not complain about. Being a passenger princess was my speciality. After further conversations, it was determined that Thea and Nikki would split the drive amongst the two of them, stating that their lead feet would only be in our benefit, leaving Christie and I in the back seat for the entirety of the trip. I was even more elated by this, knowing that Christie would let me snuggle the daylights out of her while I took my compulsory naps. We all then settled into our designated roles with travel mugs of coffee in hand and bottles of water on standby. 

The drive went as smoothly as one could expect, filled with endless amounts of singing, discussions of our ever growing lists of biases, and an obscene amount of laughter. Thea and Nikki alternated their roles as driver and navigator at our stops every couple of hours. Soon enough, we were pulling into our BnB for the next four nights. It was absolutely adorable, nestled into a quaint neighborhood, surrounded by foliage and bright flowers. 

“Finally!” Christie grumbled, pulling herself out of the backseat, nearly catching herself on the door in her rush to get out. “I can’t feel anything.”

We all chuckled at her clumsiness before moving to unload the massive amounts of luggage residing in the back hatch. All belongings were gathered from there and within the vehicle itself and were swiftly transported into our temporary home. 

Inside, we veered apart to deposit our things within the bedrooms we had chosen on the drive down. In an effort to help pass the time we studied each room, carefully selecting each one based on the pictures in the listing. I fought the urge to lay down on the bed when I walked into mine, knowing that there was a high probability I would not get back up. I sighed as I unpacked my bathroom supplies and hung up my outfit for the concert tomorrow night, moving my way about the room slowly. I was lost in the thoughts running through my head, everything from the trip down, the upcoming concert, my never ending post-relationship drama, and the strange events of the last couple of weeks. I tried my best to drown them out by quietly humming Bouncy to myself when Nikki’s voice rang through the house. 

“I’M HUNGRY!” I could hear the hangriness sneaking its way into her voice.

“YOU ARE ALWAYS HUNGRY!” I hollered back before I was quickly overtaken by giggles. 

I made my way to the living room after the exclamation to find my three best friends mid discussion on what to do for dinner. Thea wanted to find some local place to go eat at, but that was quickly vetoed.  None of us wanted to leave the house after finally making ourselves comfortable. Quite honestly, I had no opinion on the matter and was perfectly content with them figuring it out amongst themselves. 

“Oooooooo,” Christie trilled. “There’s a Korean chicken place nearby that delivers. Rave reviews. 

Nikki’s demeanor immediately perked up after the suggestion of chicken. "We're just missing soju, or else we would have a perfect meal,” she mused. 

“Actually, one moment,” Thea stated, holding up her index fingers before she moseyed out of the room into the kitchen. I could hear the fridge door open and the clinking of glass, as well as muffled oomphs coming from Thea. Not a minute later, she reappeared into the living room, barely holding on to the six bottles of soju nestled precariously in her arms, beaming widely at us. “I came prepared.”

Christie had taken care of the online ordering, making sure all of our requests were fulfilled. Shortly after, the doorbell rang, causing Nikki to pop up and rush towards the door. Nobody could get between this woman and her Korean fried chicken. Thea distributed plates as Christie began pouring generous shots for all of us. We tucked ourselves onto the floor around the table in the middle of the living room, digging into the copious amounts of chicken, rice, dumplings, and tteokbokki. We were having the best time, only for it to be interrupted by my phone going off. My heart dropped at the number that popped up on the screen. The high I was running on instantly fell. I sighed deeply, dropping my head into my hands to hide the tears that were threatening to sneak it. Christie instantly placed a reassuring hand on my back as she snatched up the phone.

“Fuck off, Austin. Stop calling. It is well beyond done and over. Leave her alone,” she hissed into the speaker, her voice laced with fury. She hung up the phone, blocking the number before placing it face down on the table.

“How is he still able to reach you? Are you in contact with him?” Nikki questioned abrasively. I didn’t even have to see her face to know just how enraged she was, it was oozing out of her voice.

I sighed, shaking my head before removing it from my hands. I turned to face Nikki, whose face was surprisingly full of concern, even though her voice was showing her true emotions. I had intentionally been keeping Nikki, Thea, and even Adam in the dark about how bad things with Austin had gotten. The only one who knew everything was Christie, given the fact she was doing her best to handle it alongside me. "He got my new number from a mutual friend…. They didn’t realize the full extent of the situation. He’s been calling nonstop ever since,’ I choked out as the tears I had been keeping in began to sneak out of my eyes. “He keeps using different numbers, so it doesn’t even matter how many of them I block.” 

Nikki's tough exterior immediately crumbled from the crack in my voice. "I had no idea he was going this far. I thought that ended once you moved away he had finally given up," she said softly. She rose from her perch on the couch and plopped down beside me, pulling me into a side hug with a tight squeeze. "I’m so sorry sunshine. I wish there was something I could do to make it better. I mean, Christie and I could still very easily become pen pals and have him taken care of… if you want." 

The corners of my mouth twitched up slightly at Nikki’s mischievous words as Christie barked out a laugh.

"Nikki, don't tempt me like that. I will send pages of handwritten letters and I look damn cute in a bikini… we could have them doing anything we wanted," Christie joked with her partner in crime. She scooted around the table to come closer to me, nearly falling over once more as she somehow caught herself on one of the table legs. She grabbed onto me tightly, pulling me in for a much needed hug, and squishing her cheek into mine. "Hey…guess what?"

I pulled my head away, turning to look at her as I wiped away a stray tear. “Do I even want to know?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, thoroughly confused as to where she would be going next.

"Chicken has meat in it!" She sang, unable to contain her laughter any longer. Thea snorted from behind us on the couch as Nikki fell over onto the floor in her own fit of laughter as the mood was instantly lifted following the long running joke amongst us.

“One more moment pleaseeeeee,” Thea declared, crawling over to the soundsystem situated within the TV stand. She hooked her phone up to it, and immediately started playing one of my all time favorites, Lone Ranger by Monsta X. 

I cackled, covering my mouth and throwing my head back at her song choice. “How dare you bring Main Dish into this conversation!” I teased, struggling to get the words out between laughs.

Thea picked up two bottles of soju off the table and took a generous swig of one before shoving the other into my chest. She reached out with her free hand to pull me off the floor, stating that in times like these the best cure was to dance it out. Nikki and Christie joined in, and all thoughts of Austin were thrown out the window. We all began taking shots of soju even more freely than before, and it took everything in our power to not dance the night away.

[thelocalbozo]

Right Word Choice Sokol x Reader

hii this is a part 2 to my first Sokol x Reader "Bad Word Choice" it may make more sense if you read part 1 first, anyways- buh bye now

For the next week Sokol tried to get close to apologies to you, however anytime he entered the room you were in you would leave immediately regardless of any conversation you may have been in. The others quickly caught on to the sudden switch, they did not know what exactly went on during the heist, just that you all were ambushed, Jacket had been the only one to hear the words yelled at you that day. Everyone had noticed Jacket’s demeanor became much more hostile towards Sokol in the weeks leading up to your arrival, but thought nothing of it due to their near constant fighting before the events unfolded. But some of them aka Dallas and Wolf put two and two together and figured out that something happened on the heist, between you and Sokol and Jacket was taking your side on whatever happened. Wolf enter your area of the safe house.

“Hey if you don’t mind my asking, what’s going on with you and Sokol? Did something happen on the heist?” Wolf looked at you concerned, tilting his head slightly, leaning on the doorframe. You sigh.

“Honestly Wolf, yes something happened, and if you want more detail go ask him.” Your voice laced with venom remembering the event clear as day. Wolf’s face scrunched a bit, then softened slightly. 

“[H/N] I want to help, Dallas and I can see you’re both hurting. But if you don’t want to talk right now I can understand that.” Wolf said softly, before standing up straight and walking away, you heard him sigh. You rolled your eyes going back to doing whatever you were doing. It was a few hours later when you realized the time, it was nearly 12 am, you decided that you would just stay at the safe house, before standing and turning to the door, to go get food from the safe house kitchen. When you turned, you saw none other than Sokol standing in the doorway, blocking the exit, a look of sadness on his face.

“Listen-”

“Why don’t you leave me alone? I want nothing to do with you, you’ve made it more than clear that I mean nothing to you…” You look away, choked up, teary eyed.

“No no no, you mean the world to me, I- I said the wrong thing, I was- it was not okay, I’m so so sorry, I- Это было худшее, что я могла сказать- я так сильно тебя люблю, и мысль о том, что я потеряю тебя, причиняет мне такую боль.” He started tearing up, trying to gather his thoughts, and switching to Russian in the process. 

“What.?” Is all you said.

“I’m sorry, It was the worst thing I could say, I love you so much and the thought of losing you hurts me so much.” He looked at you, tears streaming down his face now.

“It- It scares me so much and I know I hurt you so much with those words, I do not expect forgiveness. But I do want to fix what I’ve done, I want- I want to stop the hurt I caused.” His voice cracked as he continued, his accent thick with remorse. Sokol continued looking at you hoping you would look his way. Eventually you did look back at him, meeting his sad gaze, sighing mildly, now you were also crying softly. Sokol held your eye contact awaiting your response. 

“I’m- I’m not sure what to say to you, you hurt me to an extreme amount, I- I” You broke down, nearly falling, not before Sokol caught you and held you close, you try to shove him off but that made him hold you tighter, you cry harder wrapping your arms around his middle, not knowing what else to do, he cried as well resting his head on yours, you could hear him sniffling and hiccuping, crying was not something he did often, if ever, especially in front of people, but after weeks of crying because of the guilt, all he wanted was to be with you, he didn’t care if he was crying or not. You pulled back a small amount.

“I- you, I- I can’t forgive you.” Your voice broke. 

“I know you can’t, so let me make it up to you…” He looked at you, “I just want to make it up to you.”

[lenawin4]

this is really random but i think a fic where jongho and doil interact as future brothers in law would be so funny (you don't have to write it obviously but the scenario is so hilarious to me). one is so soft and unassuming and the other is intense and guarded bcjfjfjf the future Oh family get-togethers would be entertaining as hell

Do-il & Jong-ho interactions would be SO gold and very adorable... like can you imagine a second season where In-joo & In-kyung just run around completely unhinged and their boyfriends just follow them everywhere trying to calm them down??

I'm replying to these like almost a month later, but I'm still mentally here even after the drama ended like ~1.5 months ago... glad y'all are still clowning with me

anyway this inspired me to write something extremely self-indulgent and fluffy, it's on ao3 and down below

Do-il knew his way around New York City very well. When he attended Wharton, he drove two hours back and forth for meetings, the occasional party, and scheduled, solitary escapes he needed for his sanity. He knew every business, bar, and back-alley like the back of his hand. This knowledge, unfortunately, was deemed not useful enough to In-kyung and In-joo, which was why he was sitting on a bench in Central Park with Ha Jong-ho at eleven in the evening.

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon.” Jong-ho had that nervous look on his face and a tic of adjusting his glasses that told him that he didn’t actually believe that. “It’s only been fifteen minutes.”

He was wrong. Do-il’s watch told him it had been seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds since the sisters had told them to wait here while they bought food at some hot dog stand In-joo had heard of from social media. Do-il had no idea that she wanted to try it, because if he did, he would have factored this potential distraction into his plan, and he would have taken her somewhere else.

“So.” Jong-ho fiddled with a loose strand on his pants. “How have you been?”

Eighteen minutes was a long time for strained small talk, and they had already been through the usual topics of conversation when he and In-joo arrived in New York for the week. So, now, they were left with… whatever they were to each other. Future-in-laws? Do-il didn’t want to put too much hope in that, if tonight wasn’t going to go well.

“Just fine.”

“You two were in Greece last month?”

“Seoul,” he corrected. “We switch back and forth.” They spent the weekends together, making their apartments homes, and after two years, there were pieces of her at his place, and traces of him at hers. There was a terrifying amount of comfortability in it, and it didn’t terrify him until he realized he was somewhat content.

“Is it hard, going back and forth?”

It was harder to have this conversation, with Jong-ho actually expecting him to give honest responses. He shrugged and checked his watch. Twenty minutes and counting.

“I wouldn’t like being away from In-kyung every week. I tried forgetting about her for a while, but that didn’t work out.”

“Jong-ho, it’s not that difficult. I’ve lived alone my whole life.”

“Well, that’s why it’s hard now. Because you know what it’s like to have somebody in your life.”

Do-il glared at him. Jong-ho scratched the back of his neck and muttered a half-apology, half-complaint that trailed off into nothing. But the pause Do-il was granted was too brief to be classified as nothing.

“You know,” Jong-ho started, “you’re very different from the person I heard about in college.”

Do-il sighed. “Really?” He tried his hardest to sound interested, but Jong-ho’s side-eye informed him his attempt at enthusiasm was unsuccessful.

“All I heard about was a criminal who got his girlfriend killed and spoke Russian to impress the professors.” He tilted his head, allowing him this, as the descriptions were fairly accurate. “But now that I know you, and I see how you treat In-joo, I can see what kind of person you are.”

Someone who only cares about money. Do-il smiled, and remembered what In-joo thought about him now: “I know what kind of person you are,” she told him once. “You’re someone who cares about me.”

It was irritating that with a small amount of honesty came an infinite amount of transparency, and suddenly, Do-il found himself being seen through by people like Jong-ho. People who never had to lie their way out of anything. Unfortunately, these people were the most truthful, and a voice, In-joo’s voice, asked him to meet his truth with sincerity.

“Sometimes, the distance does make me unhappy,” he admitted, and tapped his watch again. It was fifteen minutes to Christmas, and it reminded him of why he was only somewhat content after the years of stealing weekends in Seoul and Greece and the US. He wanted more — when he was in Greece, he wanted the pieces of her to ligate and complete him, but the only way that was possible was with her presence. He wanted one life with her, not this delicate balance of hers and his; he wanted everything to be theirs.

When they decided to come to New York for the holidays, and he and In-joo talked about flight plans and getting off work and picking out souvenirs for In-hye and Hyo-rin, the only word in his mind was domesticity. Domesticity, and with the thought came the desire for commitment. The next day when In-joo went to work, he went to the most expensive jewelry store in Seoul and bought a ring. Maybe when she was a child, she had passed by the store and wanted that same ring, the way she wanted a winter coat or a birthday dress.

Then the question was where in New York. In front of the Statue of Liberty? Not pretty enough. On top of the Empire State Building? That was an option, but In-joo liked gardens, despite their shared aversion to orchids, so he wanted it to be in the park. He’d have to figure something out quickly if he was going to get this done in the best place for her.

“Jong-ho, I think I need your help with something.” He reached into his pocket and although he had kept his hand there all day, and he knew he was about to open up to some guy from college, his heart jolted when his fingers closed around the box.

He showed it to Jong-ho. His eyes bugged out and he gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a drowning fish. This was why he never told anyone any secrets. “You cannot say anything.”

“Uh, um — ”

“This is supposed to happen at Christmas, which is in ten minutes, and In-joo still isn’t back yet. Can you please distract In-kyung and tell In-joo to meet me here?”

“I mean, this is such short notice, and maybe I’ll just take In-kyung and run away?”

“If you act suspicious and throw this off, I’m going to tell In-kyung you ruined her sister’s proposal.”

“Understood.”

That worked well. If anyone threatened Do-il with In-joo’s wrath, he would cave immediately, too.

Finally, Do-il had some silence to prepare for his next moments. They had discussed marriage in the beginning of their relationship, when they were both unsure of what the other expected. They’d seen their parents’ marriages fall apart because of circumstance and tragedy, but they had also seen them reunite and turn back to love after everything. For them, it was always a someday, maybe. He found himself thinking about it more often than not, these days. When his mind wouldn’t rest and millions of plans began to form like constellations, there was no stopping Do-il.

From across the park, someone shouted his name. He looked upwards to find In-joo standing near a lamppost, smiling at him before breaking off into a run, leaving empty footsteps in the snow. Sudden panic passed through him like a shiver — he cataloged where everything was — the ring in his pocket, the white ground where he would kneel, the steps where she would be standing —

She crashed into him, arms around his sides. “Do-il-ah, In-kyung and I almost got lost, and then Jong-ho came to find us. Then he stole In-kyung away.”

“So, now you’re stuck with me?” She said yes, like it was a bad thing, but the light on her face spelled out happiness. “You didn’t get your hot dog.”

“We can always come back tomorrow.”

“I thought we were staying in tomorrow before our flight?”

She frowned and insisted, “We’ll come back tomorrow; who knows when we’ll be here next?”

“I’ll take you back here anytime you want.”

“I know that,” In-joo said, “but it depends how busy we are.”

“Okay,” Do-il said, to say anything to mask the way her casual trust still made him flustered, after all these years. He could never argue with her, not when she talked about them as a pair, like it was a guarantee that he would be where she was, wherever she decided to go. This really wasn’t going to plan, was it? He was the one who was supposed to be the one with all the lines, but In-joo was emptying his mind of any fully-formed thoughts.

He pulled them towards the steps nearing the bridge of the Shakespeare Garden. Two minutes to midnight, and she was holding his left hand, while his right hand had made a permanent home in his pocket.

“There’s a garden here,” he said. “Do you want to see it?”

“Look at those.” She pointed to the daffodils near the entrance. “They’re so pretty.”

“Those are amsonias next to them. They usually plant them together because they help the other one grow throughout different seasons.”

“Like partners.”

Of course, she understood immediately.

Midnight — he let go of her hand and knelt like a knight swearing honor to his king. It was colder than he expected. “Merry Christmas, Oh In-joo,” he said. He saw her thoughts and expectations connect, eyes frozen on the open box in his hands, hands coming up to cover her mouth. “I never thought I needed a partner. I never thought I would be able to have one, to support me, to help me grow. But now, I know, I am fuller, happier, and a better man with you. I want to do the same for you. Will you let me?”

“Yes. Of course, yes. I’ll tell you why.” She wiped happy tears off her cheek and held her hand out for him to claim. The ring slid on, and she released a giggle. She scrunched her nose at him and said, “That was a better metaphor than saying that you’re a horse.”

This was a complaint he had heard many times. “Is saying that I’m a flower really any better?”

“No, but don’t worry about it. You already do the same for me.” She pulled him closer, and her lips pressed against his neck. She muttered against his skin, “I am fuller.”

A kiss to his cheek. “I am happier.”

Another to his lips, and he felt complete. “I am a better woman with you. You are my partner, in all but name, and I would be happy to change that.”

A distant cheering broke another kiss, and they separated to see two nosy people filming their scene from the bench he and Jong-ho had been stranded on. “Congratulations, In-joo-unnie!”

Suddenly, they became four grown adults yelling in the middle of the park like obnoxious teenagers. “There are two people who got engaged, you know.”

“If you ever hurt my sister, you’ll never see the light of day again.”

“We’ve been together for two years; isn’t this warning a little late?”

Jong-ho stopped recording, and they ran closer. In-kyung squealed and hugged In-joo, sweeping her away from him. Jong-ho stood a bit awkwardly, like he was scared to say what he was most certainly going to come out of his mouth anyway.

“Spit it out while I’m in a good mood.”

“A thank you would be nice?”

He rolled his eyes and patted him on the back. “Thank you, Jong-ho.”

He beamed back. “No problem, brother-in-law.”