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pedriscroquettes · 1 year ago

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𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐀 ✵ ENZO VOGRINCIC

summary. pipe gives away way too much information when he’s drunk.

warnings. suggestive 18+ minor pipe otaño x f!reader

a/n. based off bota niña by bad gyal 🫦

you were beginning to regret accepting the boy’s invitation of hitting a club to celebrate the premiere of the movie. they had convinced you to join reminding you of the countless months you’d spent on set making sure everyone was taken care of. the large group had managed to reserve a secluded section big enough for the cast and their friends. you could barley hear anyone over the loud music blaring in the venue.

you were glad the tab wouldn’t fall on you as the boys kept ordering group shots and bottles of bacardi and champagne. you went slow not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the cast. the last thing you wanted was to make a fool of yourself in front of your coworkers. you had image to keep up with.

“i’m gonna miss you.” pipe slurred as he laid his head against your arm.

“i’m gonna miss you too pipe.” you sighed not believing that you were probably never gonna see any of the guys again.

“can i kiss you?” he blurts out.

“pipe you’re drunk.” you try not to laugh as his drunk self betrays him.

“well i tried! i was so stupid to believe that you liked me over enzo.” he slouches back in his seat as he accepts defeat.

“over enzo? what does he have to do with this?” you ask him intrigued.

enzo had been the coworker you’d least interacted with during filming. he tended to spend more time with the guys and often kept to himself since he was practically the only uruguayan on set. on the few occasions that the two of you had spoken he had been cordial but reserved. it lowkey pissed you off because it left you wanting to know more. seeing him in the finished product was worse because he was full of talent and you had been so close to him yet so far.

“it’s so obvious he likes you.” he says as he tries to reach out for another shot but you intercept him. he’s had enough to drink tonight.

“you’re not funny pipe.” your eyes wander around the room until they land on the topic of conversation. his slicked back hair alone is enough to make you squirm. you quickly turn your attention back to the argentine in front of you.

“i’m the funniest person here besides franco.” he scoffs. “besides enzo was always asking about you on set and i’ve caught him staring. he totally likes you.”

“you’re so full of shit.” you shake your head as you laugh. “i’m gonna go have fun now so the hangover doesn’t bother me as much in the morning.”

you stand up adjusting your dress in the process. it was an absolute pain to always have to pull your dress down whenever it rode up but the high of the movie premiere was too strong to care. it was as if pipe’s observation had given you a wave of confidence and you found yourself standing in front of the others.

“does anyone want to come dance with me?” you ask in the nicest tone possible.

“enzo does!” pipe yells and you can’t help but send a glare towards him.

“no, my dancing is terrible.” enzo nervously giggles as he feels everyone’s eyes land on him.

“he’s lying!” franco throws him under the bus.

“i’ve seen him dance he’s decent.” esteban adds on to the teasing.

“he doesn’t need to come if he doesn’t want to. it’s fine.” you feel the heat rise up to your cheeks at their banter.

“nope! he’s going. he’s the best dancer i’ve ever seen.” pipe continues with his banter.

“enzo! enzo! enzo!” the rest of the people begin to chant as they egg him on. you were regretting asking them anything.

he stands up giving into the pressure from his cast mates. even though the club is dark and the lights are dim you can still notice the pink hue on his cheeks. he’s either embarrassed or flustered and you were beginning to feel bad.

“you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” you told him as he approached you.

“it’s fine besides it’ll give them something to talk about.” he smirked as the two of you headed towards the center of the room.

the club is dimly lit but you’re easily able to see people surrounding the two of you. they’re mostly all couples with the occasional group of friends somewhere in the mix. it also doesn’t help that it’s basically old reggaeton music blaring from the speakers meaning it was meant to be danced closely with your partner. you’re too shy to do anything and you quite literally stand there frozen unsure of what to do next.

“you can’t go all shy on me now.” he wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. “just a couple of minutes ago you were asking for a dancing partner.”

you try to not look shocked after all he is a man and he has his wants. but you have your needs. truth be told you had barely been romantically involved with anyone since filming had begun and wrapped. you were craving the attention of someone and you didn’t mind if it came from the extremely attractive protagonist. a newfound confidence had formed between the two of you and the music only encouraged you.

“so you don’t mind me touching you, right?” you ask him with a subtle smirk.

the dim lights manage to illuminate his face as he smiles at you. the moment occurring is intimate and probably the most you had ever interacted with him throughout the past three years you knew him. you couldn’t help but admire him, his attractiveness being too much for his own good. he didn’t realize how good looking he was but you had a feeling he would soon.

“depends, how?” he brings his lips near your ears due to the music to make sure you could hear him. the act making you shiver.

“like this.” you place your palm on his chest slowly trailing it down his chest. you lowered your body to the beat of the music at the same time. you surprised your self at how your body moved and how willingly you did it for him.

“fuck.” he murmured trying to make sure you didn’t hear him but you managed to catch it anyways. it was definitely an ego boost, you’d tell your friends about this.

you try to do it again but he grabs you and brings you chest to chest with him. he analyzes you and your breath hitches the suspense killing you. you’re not sure what he’s thinking and you don’t know if you just scared him off. he creeps his hand up your neck to your jaw cupping your face. he removes the couple of strands of hair that are blocking your face. his face gets closer to yours–your heart beating faster. one blink and his lips are on yours capturing them into a sensual rhythm.

you’re perfectly still for a moment not expecting a kiss from him but that doesn’t last long. you’re moving your lips against his in a second. his hand remains firm on your jaw as he kisses you. the two of you pull away for a second to catch your breath’s. you look up at him trying to decipher his feelings. you realize he liked it as much as you did when he leaned in for another one.

normally you would feel bad about the blatant pda in front of others but you weren’t thinking straight. maybe it was the lack of oxygen due to your lips being connected with his but all you wanted was to enjoy the passionate kisses he was giving you. your hand found it’s way into his messy hair tugging at the strands causing deep groans from him. it triggered something inside you. you’d never been kissed like this before nor held like this. you were so entranced by him you barely noticed the way his hand lowered down your body.

“you want to grab my ass and you haven’t even asked me out yet.” you remove his hand from your waist teasing him.

“oh come on you know how busy i’ve been.” he jokes. “come back to my room and i’ll make up for it.”

you offer him a forced smile clearly amused by his sudden confidence and his tempting offer. it was almost enough to make you break. but you didn’t want to be a simple one night stand he would forget. you may have found him attractive but you weren’t gonna lose your dignity.

“no enzo if you really want to make it up to me you’ll come to mine with dinner.” you kiss him on the cheek. “you know where to find me.” you say referring to fact that the whole cast was staying in the same hotel for the premiere.

you head towards the hotel dragging pipe and franco along with you. the two of them being so drunk you can barely get them into their rooms. when you were finally alone you brought your fingers up to your lips reminiscing about enzo and the feel of his lips on yours. you’re barely out of your heels when there’s a knock on your door. you believe it’s pipe coming to bother you once more but instead it’s enzo with a bag of takeout and that devilish smirk of his.

#well…#had to write about my man 🫦#this has been in my drafts for thirteen days omg #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo vogrincic imagine #enzo vogrincic smut

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shikai-the-storyteller · 1 year ago

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I've been thinking a lot about Leonarda's not-death ever since it happened back in April.

("What death?" you might ask, to which I say: "EXACTLY!")

Back in mid-April, Vegetta and Leonarda were mining together in a one-block wide tunnel. A mob (a Petriman) got between the two of them, and Vegetta told Leonarda to step back while he took care of it. At this point, they'd spent enough time together that he trusted Leo to listen to him.

Instead, she was killed by the same sweeping edge bug that killed her siblings.

Vegetta's reaction here is what's really interesting to me. Unlike most other parents on the Island, there are no shouts or tears – only a very brief "Hmm" and then silence. He very quietly takes stock of the situation, saying "Vegetta, no" and wondering aloud why Leo didn't defend herself. In chat, Foolish says "It was a bug, right? LAG" to which Vegetta slowly responds "Yes, lag. Bug." (Despite this, Foolish still asks "WHAT HAPPENED" in chat, though Vegetta doesn't reply).

Instead, he creates a slightly wider space in the tunnel where Leo's body is. He continues quietly taking stock of the situation, wondering why Leo didn't defend herself (which is what necessitated his intervention). She'd been lagging a lot that day, and he figures that must be the cause, and eventually when Leo re-appears out of thin air in the middle of the cave and collects her stuff, she confirms that the lag got to her and that's why she didn't fight the mob.

Now here's where things get interesting:

Vegetta checks the tab list. Online, it's just him, Leonarda, Roier, and Foolish. He quietly tells Leonarda "The body has already disappeared, and without a body, there is no crime. Nothing is happening. Did you die?" Leo shakes her head, and Vegetta shakes his head too, and in the kind voice he uses sometimes with Leo, he says: "I believe you have not died. Where is the body? It isn't anywhere, no mija. If it was a mistake, it was a mistake."

Leo says: "I saw Diosito (God) pa, and I was scared. God, what am I doing here?" and Vegetta laughs, telling her it's alright. Leo says "No pasa nada (don't worry / nothing happened)" and Vegetta says: "And the people who are watching us have not seen it either." To Foolish and Roier, he messages: "Secreto."

And the funniest thing about this is it worked.

Not a single person spoke about it. I saw this entire event go down live and I didn't see a WHISPER of what transpired among fans. I can't even remember if the QSMP official accounts talked about it (they sure didn't mention it in Vegetta's recap of the day). We could discuss this in meta terms of course– Leo was having known lag issues that day, Vegetta's beloved by the admins so of course they're willing to turn a blind eye rather than slap a "?" over Leonarda's life on the Eggstatistics, but meta talk isn't what I'm interested in here.

I'm interested in q!Vegetta, the weird "god-adjacent" aura he's got, and the way the universe bends to his will.

Before he took a break from the server, Rubius seemed to be a caretaker for the Eggs who died (for example, he was present when Maxo, Quackity, and Mariana & Slime said their final goodbyes to Trumpet, Tilin, and JuanaFlippa). Because of his role as an "angel" and some of his dialogue during the early days of the server, it's not a stretch to say he probably came to collect any Egg who lost a life. I can imagine he did the same when he saw Leonarda die – that is, until Vegetta said "And the people who are watching us have not seen it either." Realistically, we know Vegetta was saying this to Chat (and possibly the admins as well), but again, we're looking at this from an "in-universe" perspective.

I wonder if Vegetta was aware of Rubius' role, and this was his way of telling Rubius "No. I won't allow that to happen." We know Rubius has a soft-spot for Vegetta (and we also know that Rubius was cast out of heaven several months later) so it makes me wonder if these two instances are connected.

Either way, this isn't the first time the laws of the QSMP universe have bent for Vegetta, and I certainly don't think it'll be the last.

Rubius or no, Leo didn't die that day.

Vegetta made sure of it.

#i talk #QSMP talk #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #I FOUND IT #I wrote this post TWO MONTHS AGO #MAYBE LONGER!!!#I had clips and links prepared but I have no idea where those went #I'm not gonna bother saving this as a draft and risk losing it again #I have nearly 70000 drafts on my main blog but by some miracle this got saved in my art blogs' drafts instead #than the stars #Anyways. Leo was killed by a whale a few days later because Foolish was in the bathroom lmao #''powerful god-adjacent man who bends the laws of the universe'' vs. ''man whose entire life is a series of sitcom episodes''#I still really want to write out that ''QSMP genre'' thought I had ages ago. It's still relevant and always will be relevant #but anyways #I wrote this months ago on very little sleep but DANG. It's a banger.#I miss writing analysis stuff I wish I was in a headspace where I could do this more like I used to #QSMP analysis

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chrrybbmb · 2 months ago

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STARRING ... BTS OT7 X READER

A/N ... this was actually supposed to come out on valentines day... which obviously did not happen 😭. but it's out now and it's super cute <3 i hope you guys have as much fun reading it as i did writing it!!

NOTES/WARNINGS ... seven love letters for seven members of bts, inspired very much by to all the boys i've loved before. non-idol!au. all in all just wholesome.

WORD COUNT ... 5.2k

to kim seokjin,

i feel awkward writing this. but i feel like i just need to tell someone, and i have nobody to tell. so i'm writing it down, even though i know you'll never see it and i'll be the only person to read this.

there were many instances where i've have the fleeting thought i might be in love with you. too, too many to count. but i still remember the first time. i think that might be the only time that matters.

it was a few years ago. three or so, i think.

we were sitting on that stupid bench outside the convenience store, the one with the peeling paint and the wobbly leg that always made me feel like it was seconds from collapsing under us. i don’t even remember what we were talking about—something dumb, probably, something that didn’t matter. but then you laughed. really laughed. head thrown back, eyes crinkling, like whatever i’d said was the funniest thing you’d ever heard.

and something about it—about you—just stuck.

i remember staring at you, feeling like the world had slowed down, like everything else had blurred into the background and all i could focus on was the sound of your laughter and the way your shoulders shook with it. and that’s when i knew. or, maybe, that’s when i started to know.

i don’t think i’ve ever stopped knowing since.

it never really surprised me, after that. the way i felt about you. because if there was ever a person who was just easy to love, it was you.

you made it effortless. the way you filled every space you were in, the way your presence felt like sunlight warming my skin even on the coldest days. you had this way of making people feel seen, like they mattered, like even their smallest thoughts were worth listening to. and maybe that’s why it felt so natural, why falling for you wasn’t this sudden, earth-shattering thing. it was quiet. like breathing. like something that had been happening all along, and i just hadn’t noticed.

you were just you. frustratingly charming, always knowing exactly what to say to make someone laugh or ease their worries. thoughtful in the little ways people don’t always notice—holding doors open, making sure everyone got home safe, remembering the things people said offhandedly and bringing them up weeks later like they were important. like they were important.

you made it so easy to love you, jin. too easy. sometimes i wish it had been harder. maybe then, i wouldn’t still feel this way.

you were always checking in on me. in ways that didn’t seem like much at the time, but now i realize they were everything.

you’d text me after a long day, just to ask if i’d eaten. if i said no, you’d scold me in that half-serious way of yours, telling me i needed to take care of myself before sending a picture of whatever you were eating, like that would somehow convince me to do the same. and sometimes it did. sometimes it didn’t, and you’d show up the next day with snacks, acting like you just happened to have extra.

you always noticed when i was off, too. when i wasn’t saying much, when my laugh sounded a little forced, when something was weighing on me but i didn’t want to say. you never pushed, never pried—just let me know you were there. that was the thing about you. you never needed grand gestures, never made a big deal out of it. you just were. present. constant. like no matter what, i’d turn around and there you’d be, ready to listen, ready to distract me, ready to just exist beside me if that’s what i needed.

and i think that’s what made it all the more painful. because you cared so easily, so freely, with no expectations. and i was just one of many. just another person lucky enough to be on the receiving end of your kindness.

but for me, you were never just another person.

i never stopped falling in love with you after that first time.

it wasn’t something that happened all at once. it wasn’t dramatic or desperate, the way people talk about love in books or movies. it was slow, steady—like the tide coming in, like something inevitable. every time you smiled at me, every time you remembered something small i’d said in passing, every time you looked at me like i was worth something. every moment with you was another drop in the ocean, another reason why i couldn’t stop even if i wanted to.

and now, i’m leaving. moving halfway across the world, starting over in a place where you won’t be. where there won’t be late-night convenience store runs or your voice on the other end of a call telling me to take care of myself. where i won’t get to see you throw your head back when you laugh or feel your arm bump against mine in a crowded room like a silent reminder that you’re there.

but i think, i hope, that will be enough.

because if there’s one thing i know, it’s that you kept my heart full. in the ways that mattered. in the ways that will last, even from a distance. i don’t know if i’ll ever stop loving you, but maybe that’s okay. maybe love doesn’t have to be something that disappears. maybe it can just be something i carry with me, something warm to hold onto, something that reminds me i was lucky enough to have you in my life at all.

so this is my goodbye, i guess. not to you, not really, because you’ll never read this. but to the version of me that spent all these years loving you in silence. she deserves to rest now.

to min yoongi,

i think i’ve always had a crush on you, long before i realized how deep my feelings ran.

it started small—little things i brushed off as admiration, as liking you the way anyone would like someone as effortlessly cool as you. the way you carried yourself, so sure, so steady. the way your words were measured, thoughtful, like you never spoke just to fill the silence. the way your presence was quiet but never unnoticed.

i thought it was just that. a simple, fleeting thing. but then i started noticing more. the way your eyes softened when you were listening, really listening. the way you remembered things people said, even things they didn’t think mattered. the way you’d hum absentmindedly when you were lost in thought, like music lived in you so naturally you didn’t even realize you were letting it spill out.

and then, one day, it hit me.

it wasn’t just a crush. it hadn’t been for a long time.

but i think i could’ve kept pretending—could’ve kept tucking those feelings away, convincing myself they were small enough to ignore—if it weren’t for that night. the night everything shifted.

we were both drunk, but not the kind of drunk that makes you forget. the kind that makes everything feel sharper, more intense, like the world is moving in slow motion but your heart is racing to keep up.

i don’t even remember how it happened. just that one second, we were sitting too close, your knee pressed against mine, your eyes dark and heavy-lidded as you watched me talk. and then the next, your hand was in my hair, your breath was warm against my lips, and you were kissing me like you’d been waiting to do it for years.

and maybe you had. maybe we both had.

but the moment it was over, reality came rushing back. you pulled away first, blinking like you were trying to clear the haze, licking your lips like you could still taste me there. for a second, i thought you might say something—anything—but instead, you just exhaled a soft, almost regretful laugh and said, we should sleep this off.

and that was it. no follow-up, no next morning conversation, no acknowledgment that something between us had cracked open that night.

but i felt it. and i think you did too. but if you felt it, you sure didn’t show it.

the next morning, you acted like nothing had happened. no hesitation, no awkwardness, no second glances that might have given you away. just the same old yoongi—calm, composed, like the night before was nothing more than a blurred memory easily tucked away.

meanwhile, i was unraveling.

every time you looked at me, i swore my skin burned. every casual touch—your hand brushing against mine when you passed me something, your knee bumping into me when we sat too close—felt like a spark catching fire. i kept waiting for you to say something, to acknowledge it, to let me know i wasn’t losing my mind.

but you didn’t. you were fine. normal.

and i hated that.

because if you could pretend it didn’t mean anything, then maybe it really didn’t. maybe it was just a drunken mistake to you, something insignificant, something easily forgotten.

but i couldn’t forget. i couldn’t go back to how things were before. because for me, that kiss had been the confirmation of something i’d spent too long trying to ignore.

i was in love with you. and you, as far as i could tell, were perfectly fine without ever speaking about it again.

so that’s it, i guess.

i don’t know why i even started writing this. maybe because it’s the only way to let this feeling go, to put it somewhere outside of myself so it stops weighing me down. or maybe because i just wanted to see the words written out, proof that this wasn’t all in my head.

but it doesn’t matter now. because i won’t get to kiss you again.

i won’t get to know if you ever thought about it after that night, if it crossed your mind the way it haunted mine. i won’t get to see if your hands would shake the next time, if you’d pull me in closer instead of pulling away. i won’t get to know if maybe, just maybe, you felt something too.

and you’ll never know what that kiss meant to me.

how it unraveled me. how it made me realize that all this time, i hadn’t just been carrying around some harmless little crush—i’d been carrying you. loving you in silence, in stolen glances, in the spaces between all the things i never said.

and maybe that’s how it’s meant to be. maybe some loves aren’t meant to be spoken, just felt. just held onto for as long as they let you.

so this is me letting go.

to jung hoseok,

a tale as old as time, a stupid cliché. falling in love with your best friend.

but i think i loved you even before i was in love with you.

i loved you in the way a person loves their favorite song—something constant, something that could play in the background of their life forever and never get old. i loved you in the way a person loves the sunrise, knowing it’ll always come back, always be there, even on the days it hides behind the clouds.

and then, one day, it changed.

one day, i wasn’t just loving you in that simple, steady way. one day, i was looking at you too long when you laughed, feeling something ache when you smiled at someone else like that, holding my breath when your arm slung over my shoulders because suddenly, suddenly, it wasn’t the same anymore.

i don’t know when it happened. i don’t know if there was a single moment, a turning point, a second in time where my heart decided to cross that line. all i know is that once it did, there was no going back.

you were there for me in ways no one else was. in ways no one else could be.

through every ugly moment—every time i broke down, every time i fell apart, every time i swore i was too much of a mess for anyone to love—you stayed. you never looked at me like i was a burden, never hesitated when i needed you, never made me feel like i had to be better to deserve your kindness.

you held me when i cried, even when i tried to push you away. you let me be angry when the world felt unfair, never telling me to calm down or get over it, just listening, just being there. you saw every side of me, even the ones i hated, and you still looked at me like i was worth something. like i mattered.

and maybe that’s why loving you like this was inevitable. because how could i not fall for someone who loved me even at my worst?

but that’s the thing, isn’t it? you loved me, but not the way i loved you.

and now, you’re engaged.

i remember the day you told me. your beaming smile, her hand in yours, the ring catching the light. you looked happy. really happy. and when i saw it, i realized something that should have been obvious a long time ago.

i was never meant to be the love of your life.

maybe there was a time when i thought i could be. maybe there was a time when i let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different—if you had looked at me the way you look at her, if all those years of standing by your side had led to something more.

but love doesn’t work like that, does it? it doesn’t matter how long i’ve loved you, how deeply, how quietly. it doesn’t matter that i know you better than almost anyone else. it doesn’t matter that you’ve seen every broken piece of me and never once flinched.

because you found the person who makes your heart light up, who makes you sure. and that person isn’t me.

and as much as it hurts, as much as it aches in a way i don’t have the right to name, i think i can live with that. because you’re happy. and because, despite everything, i still love you.

even if it’s not the way i once hoped you’d love me back.

to kim namjoon,

this is my fourth letter. i'm starting to realise now how cathartic it is to put these words on paper, to share them with a part of myself that had always been in denial.

i loved you. i love you. and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

for so long, i tried to convince myself otherwise. i told myself that loving you was a mistake, that it was something i should be ashamed of, something i should erase. but i don’t think that anymore. because love—real love—doesn’t just vanish because you tell it to. it lingers, it changes shape, but it never truly disappears.

and god, namjoon, we were love.

not perfect, not easy, not without our flaws. but it was real. every late-night conversation, every shared silence, every moment where we felt like the only two people in the world. even when it was hard, even when we hurt each other, there was never a second where what we had wasn’t real.

so why did we let it slip away?

i used to think it was because we weren’t meant to be. because love, no matter how strong, isn’t always enough to hold two people together. and maybe that’s still true. but sometimes, i wonder if we just weren’t ready. if we met at the wrong time, if we expected too much of each other before we even knew who we really were.

or maybe we just let go too soon. maybe we gave up when we should have fought harder.

but none of that matters now, does it? we’ve moved on. at least, you have. i see glimpses of your life sometimes—through friends, through the places you go that i no longer belong to, through the way your name still lingers in conversations i pretend not to listen to. and you seem… okay.

i want to be okay, too.

so maybe this letter is my way of making peace with it. with us. with the love that still exists in some quiet, untouched corner of my heart. i won’t try to bury it anymore. i won’t try to rewrite what we were into something smaller, something easier to forget.

i loved you. i love you. and maybe i always will, in some way.

but that doesn’t mean i can’t learn to let you go.

it just makes it harder.

because you weren’t just someone i loved. you were my first everything.

my first love, my first heartbreak. the first person who saw me—really saw me—and made me believe i was worth looking at. the first voice i wanted to hear in the morning, the first arms i wanted to fall asleep in at night. the first person who made me think maybe this is it. maybe this is what forever feels like.

you were the first to hold my hand like it meant something. the first to kiss me like you were memorizing me. the first to tell me that love wasn’t just about grand gestures and poetry, but about the quiet moments, too—the ones that didn’t need words, the ones that felt like home.

and when we fell apart, it wasn’t just you i lost. it was the version of myself that existed when i was with you. the girl who believed in love without hesitation, who thought that if you just held on tight enough, it would be enough to make things last.

but we didn’t last, did we?

maybe that’s why i’m writing this letter. trying to piece together the parts of me that shattered when we ended. trying to make peace with the fact that you were my first everything, but you won’t be my last.

at least, that’s what i keep telling myself.

but the truth is, if you were my last, i think i’d still be okay with that.

because what we had was enough. enough to teach me what love feels like, enough to prove that it exists—that it’s real, that it can be soft and messy and beautiful all at once. enough that even if i never get to love like that again, i can still say that i did.

and maybe that’s what really matters. not whether or not i find it again, not whether or not someone else takes up the space in my heart that once belonged to you. but the simple fact that we were. that for a moment in time, we had something real, something worth remembering.

i’ll always love you, namjoon. maybe not in the way i used to, maybe not in a way that demands anything of you anymore.

but in a way that’s warm. in a way that’s grateful.

thank you for everything.

to park jimin,

i hated you before i loved you.

we were always pushing each other, and you were always one step ahead, always smirking like you knew something i didn’t, always pushing me just far enough to make me want to prove you wrong. and i hated it. i hated the way you got under my skin, the way you made me work twice as hard just to keep up. but even more than that, i hated how much i loved it.

i still don’t know how this happened. how we went from trying to one-up each other every chance we got to… this.

if someone had told me back then that i’d end up writing you a letter like this, i would’ve laughed in their face. me? in love with park jimin? impossible. absurd. completely unthinkable.

and yet, here we are.

you made everything—everything—a competition. who could run faster, who could drink more, who had the best comebacks, the sharpest wit. we spent years wrapped up in this ridiculous, never-ending battle of proving who was better, smarter, funnier, more everything.

and god, it was fun. you frustrated the hell out of me, but you made me better. every smirk, every teasing remark, every time you raised a brow like you were daring me to keep up—i hated it, but i loved it. i think maybe I was falling for you even then, even before i realized what that rush in my chest actually meant.

but i didn’t let myself realize it. not for a long time.

because that would’ve meant admitting defeat. and if there was one thing i refused to do when it came to you, it was lose.

i stopped hating you, though. i started hating the little things about you instead.

i hated the way your hair fell over your eyes when you laughed, because it made me want to reach out and push it back. hated the way your voice dipped just a little lower when you were being serious, because it sent a shiver down my spine. hated the way you’d find me in a crowded room without even trying, like it was second nature to you.

i hated your stupid cologne, because it lingered even after you were gone. hated how you knew exactly what to say to make people adore you, because i wasn’t immune to it either.

hated your girlfriend.

not because she wasn’t good for you, but because she was. she was kind, she was smart, she was someone who met you in the middle instead of constantly trying to meet you at the finish line. she made you laugh in ways i wasn’t sure i ever had.

and god, i hated her for that.

because by then, it wasn’t a competition anymore. i wasn’t trying to win. i was just trying to stop losing.

but i did lose, didn’t i?

because you’re happy, and i’m here, writing this letter like it’ll somehow make a difference. like it’ll rewind time or rewrite the rules or do anything other than sit in a drawer somewhere, unread, while you keep moving forward without me.

but it’s fine. it’s fine, because i meant what i said before.

if love was a game, you won.

to kim taehyung,

this is ridiculous. i don’t even know why i’m writing this. maybe i just need to get it out of my system. maybe i just need to admit to myself that i still think about you, even though I have no reason to.

we met at a bar. i don’t even remember which one. maybe i wasn’t paying attention, maybe i was already too caught up in you—the lazy tilt of your smile, the way your voice curled around your words like you weren’t in a hurry to say anything at all.

you were charming. too charming. the kind of charming that should come with a warning label.

and i should’ve known better, really. but that night, i didn’t want to know better. i just wanted you.

and for a few hours, i had you.

we didn’t talk much—not in the ways that mattered. i never told you my name, and you never told me yours. but that didn’t stop you from pressing your lips to my neck like you were memorizing the taste, from dragging your fingers down my spine like you wanted to map out every inch of me.

it was just a one-night thing. just a fleeting, meaningless moment between two strangers.

so why do i still remember the sound of your laugh? why does the ghost of your touch still linger on my skin? why do i keep catching glimpses of you in places i know you’ve never been?

i never saw you again after that night. i don’t think i ever will.

but if i did, i wonder—would you remember me, too?

probably not. and that should’ve been the end of it.

except… i found you.

not in real life. not by accident. not in some fate-woven, meant-to-be kind of way. no, i found you the way people find people these days—through the internet, through late-night curiosity and a shameful amount of scrolling.

your name came up in conversation once, just a passing mention. apparently you're a friend of a friend. and that was all it took. one name, one search, and suddenly there you were. smiling, laughing, living a life i knew nothing about. a life that had nothing to do with me.

and god, i wish i’d just left it at that. but i didn’t.

because now, i know things i have no business knowing. i know what kind of art you like, the places you travel to, the way you pose when you’re caught off guard in photos. i know what your friends call you, how your dog looks when he’s sleeping, the way you drink your coffee in the morning.

and you don’t even know i exist.

or maybe you do. maybe you did remember me, for a moment, before i faded into just another forgotten face in a long-forgotten night.

i don’t know what’s worse.

but either way, here i am. writing to you like an idiot, knowing i’ll never send this, knowing you’ll never read it.

but if you ever do—if by some strange twist of the universe, you stumble across this—just know that for one night, you weren’t just another stranger to me.

and i guess, in some quiet, ridiculous way, you still aren’t.

because sometimes, i imagine what it would be like if we met again. if i saw you across the room, if our eyes caught, if there was that same flicker of something between us. would you smile? would you tilt your head like you were trying to place me, like maybe I was familiar in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on?

or would you just nod, polite and distant, before turning back to whatever world you belong to?

sometimes, when i can’t sleep, i imagine us talking. really talking. i fill in the blanks of all the things i don’t know about you. i think you’d be funny. the kind of funny that sneaks up on people, that makes them laugh before they even realize they’re supposed to. i think you’d be thoughtful, too, in that way that’s almost frustrating—saying things that linger, making people feel like they want to tell you everything without really knowing why.

i imagine asking you about your favorite things, and you answering in that slow, deliberate way i remember from that night. i imagine telling you how i found you, how embarrassing it is to admit, how i know things about you that i have no right to know.

and in my head, you just laugh.

like it doesn’t bother you. like you’re used to people getting caught up in you, lingering too long on the edges of something that was never meant to last. like maybe, just maybe, you think it’s a little bit funny, too.

but that’s all it is, isn’t it? just imagination.

because the truth is, i don’t know you. and you don’t know me. and this letter, like that night, like whatever this is, will never be anything more than something fleeting.

but still… i wonder.

to jeon jungkook,

loving you feels like every love i’ve ever known, woven together into something whole.

sometimes, i think you are a culmination of all the people i’ve ever loved. like every fleeting crush, every unspoken confession, every heartbreak was just leading me to you. like the universe took all the things i ever wanted—every little piece of love that once felt unfinished—and stitched them together until they became you.

and now, here we are.

sometimes, when i watch you—when you’re laughing with your head thrown back, when you’re driving with one hand on the wheel and the other resting absentmindedly on my knee, when you’re sleepily mumbling my name like it’s the first word you ever learned—it hits me all over again.

i’m going to marry you.

i don’t just think it. i know it. i feel it in my bones, in the deepest parts of me. you are my forever. the person i will build a life with, wake up beside every morning, grow old with. you are the love i used to dream about, back when i didn’t even know what real love was.

i imagine a future where we have a home that smells like coffee and fresh laundry, where your shoes are always kicked off in the wrong place, where i steal your hoodies even though you pretend to mind. a future where our biggest fights are about what movie to watch, where our days are filled with the kind of quiet, steady love that never wavers, never questions, just is.

i imagine a family. maybe not right away, but one day. little feet running down the hallway, laughter echoing through the walls. a child with your eyes, your smile, your heart—someone who will be so, so lucky to have you as their father.

i imagine forever, and it’s you. it’s always been you.

and i don’t need to wish for it, don’t need to hope, don’t need to hold my breath.

because for the first time in my life, i know i’m already exactly where i’m meant to be.

with you.

i imagine the life we’ll build, the milestones we haven’t reached yet but will. i imagine standing in a quiet nursery, running my fingers over soft blankets, testing out names like they already belong to someone.

i imagine the way your eyes will light up when we find the perfect name, the one that feels like it was always meant to be theirs. i imagine whispering it for months before they’re even born, practicing it like a prayer.

i imagine their first steps, their first words, the way they’ll reach for you before they reach for me because you’re you, and of course, they’ll love you just as easily as i do. i imagine watching you with them, watching the way you’ll love them—endlessly, effortlessly, the way you love everything you care about.

i imagine growing old together.

i imagine silver strands in your dark hair, soft wrinkles forming in the places where your smile has been the brightest. i imagine late mornings where we don’t rush to be anywhere, where we sit together with coffee, flipping through old photo albums, laughing at our younger selves. i imagine knowing you in every form—young and restless, steady and wise, always mine.

and i don’t just imagine it.

i know it.

i know that no matter what life brings, no matter how many years pass, no matter how much we change, there will never be a day where i don’t choose you.

so when i say forever, i don’t mean it as a wish, or a dream, or something fragile enough to slip away.

i mean it as a promise.

i love you, jeon jungkook, more than anything.

taglist : @glossdebut @angellekookie @haru-jiminn

#bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x y/n #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts ot7 x reader

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cooliogirl101 · 10 months ago

Note

The dynamic between Hisana and Aizen in the exes au is really intense, and makes me want to ship it. But also, by that point in time, all of Aizen's actions are probably a giant X mark for Hisana's personal ideas and morals. Possibly if Hisana had met him much earlier? But that would have to be a lot earlier.

Yeah, in any event Hisana would not be the one to compromise on her morals.

But imagine if, in that world, Aizen actually won. He gets the Hogyoku, evolves into a higher being, defeats the Soul King, and at the end of it all, he just feels…bored. He won, there’s no one left to challenge, and he’s realizing he doesn’t actually want to be the leader of all 3 realms. He doesn’t care enough about the world to really want to change it but he doesn’t want things to stay at status quo either.

You know who never ran out of ideas on how to change the world though? His chronically power-averse, hates-to-be-recognized, hates-to-be-promoted, allergic-to-the-spotlight former lieutenant.

And then he realizes he has the opportunity to do the funniest possible thing.

“Don’t look so miserable, dearest,” Sousuke smiled. “Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? How many people have killed? Myself included, as you’re aware.”

Momo glared harder at him, practically vibrating with rage.

“When have I,” she bit out, sounding angrier with each syllable, “ever given you the impression I wanted to be in this position?”

“Now, now,” Sousuke chided, sounding disturbingly like a disappointed father scolding a child. Or he would have, had it not been for the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What kind of captain would I be if I never pushed you to challenge yourself?” He paused. “Besides, would you really rather I sit on that throne instead?”

“It would fit your gigantic head a lot better,” Momo muttered, but didn’t actually disagree. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you doing this? And don’t give me some bullshit answer, tell me the truth. I think you owe me that much at least.”

“You and I had two very different viewpoints on how the world should be run. On what would make it a better place,” Sousuke responded after a moment’s consideration. “Well now I’m giving you the power to put your theories to the test.” He smiled challengingly at her. “Come on, Momo. Don’t you want to prove me wrong?”

(Rangiku: So you’re telling me he just…handed you the world on a silver platter. Just like that.

Rangiku: …

Rangiku: Well as far as apologies go, it’s not the worst one I’ve seen.

Momo: What are you talking about? He’s clearly punishing me for daring to disagree with him. Do you know how much work goes into running the world? This is just like when he promoted me to lieutenant. He knew I didn’t want the position and gave it to me anyway—

Rangiku: Because you clearly deserved it? Because you worked your ass off for the good of Squad 5? Because he liked that you weren’t afraid to challenge him? Because if he didn’t promote you, that would’ve raised questions?

Momo: What? No, it’s because he was trying to mess with me.

Rangiku: …I’m gonna shut up now because I’m getting dangerously close to agreeing with Aizen Sousuke and I don’t want that.)

#exes au #to give Momo credit he WAS trying to mess with her #but there are a lot of ways to mess with people that don’t involve handing them every opportunity

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nerdgatehobbit · 4 months ago

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I was tagged by @old-man-ghost thank you!

Between me not having gifs to post and that recent post I reblogged on physical media, I’m going to do something barely within the letters but hopefully within the spirit of the tag game. The original game is posting gifs from your favorite movies without labeling them. I’m going to do a sentence or two per movie mostly so this post isn’t just this paragraph & a photo.

Beauty and the Beast (1991): This one should not be a surprise at all. <3

(If BATB 2022 had gotten a physical release it’d be here as well)

The Librarian trilogy: Are they good movies? Not really, but they feature my blorbo Flynn Carsen and without them the show wouldn’t exist. Well, excitingly there’ll be another sequel show soon.

4 Pokémon movies: I enjoy all four of these movies, although probably my favorite is 4Ever.

Muppet Treasure Island: So quotable and funny, I’ve loved this movie for a long time.

Robin Hood (1973): Another long-time favorite, I do enjoy the music & characters.

George of the Jungle: Quite possibly the funniest movie I’ve ever seen, to the point even explaining a joke becomes hilarious. It also has a lot of heart & thought put into it. Please note that nostalgia is probably a factor here along with most of these choices.

The Court Jester: Another excellent comedic film with heart. It is fun to see Glynis Johns & Angela Lansbury as the main female characters.

Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella: I enjoy all three versions I’ve seen (1957, 1965, & 1997) although my favorite is 1997 in part because I saw it first as a kid. Frankly, I think we should get a fourth movie based off of it if the movie industry is doing all these remakes anyway.

Love & Friendship: A very amusing adaptation of Lady Susan; it’s more biting than the usual Austen adaptation I think. While I definitely enjoyed Sense & Sensibility (2024), I think I need a bit longer than a month (edit) to determine if it’s a favorite.

Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron: I love the original movie and have done so since I first saw it- which likely was within a year or so of its release. Its soundtrack, animation, story, and characters are all awesome. While I’ve gathered the recent cartoons go against the original movie’s message, I’ll be honest that didn’t stop me from getting my own little Spirit plushie.

Bridges Live: So what happened is that I got this back in January 2023, having adored BATB 2022 and spotting that Idina Menzel (Elsa!) is involved both on the CD and the concert DVD. It was such a good time that things spiraled from there regarding me obtaining Josh Groban content. I still need to watch them in Chess in Concert though.

Tagging @asokatanos @magic-owl @ladytharen @mylittleredgirl @hopecomesbacktolife @kiashyel @jadelotusflower @captains-clever-goose @ladyofthelake @fantasysci5 and anyone else who’d like to participate! (Feel free to do the gifs instead of my non-standard format)

#some of my favorite movies #my rambles #tag game

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weekendpassrevoked · 1 month ago

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Easy's Songbird - Chapter 10

yahoooooo, please enjoy more introduction to our side characters that will help connect the story to other plot points. whoever figures out what i'm trying to plan gets to request something special for the next chapter.

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Isabella’s first batch of letters was a welcome reprieve to the torture she was enduring in camp.

She had gotten a large stack of letters at the morning mail-call, the majority coming from home. She had also gotten ones from Lucas, Cameron and her brother, along with her best friend Sina who was out training in New York City after she joined the WAVES, and her brother Darren who was out training in Parris Island after he signed up as a Marine.

Isabella buzzed with excitement, eager to read her letters as she ripped the first one open at breakfast.

‘Dear Isa,

I hope you’ve been well. Army training has been brutal and everyday I wish I was at home more than ever. I miss Mama’s cooking and the kids' laughter. I especially miss our weekend performances! The thrill of being in the Army doesn’t compare to the thrill of being on stage.

Tennessee isn’t that different from Florida. It has the same kind of people and the same heat, but a hell of a lot more hilly. The amount of mountains in this state is insane, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many in my life.’

Isabella snorts. Of course he wouldn’t have seen so many in his life, Florida didn’t have mountains.

‘I’ve never climbed so much shit in my life. My hands are pretty much dead and writing this letter has taken every bit of strength I can muster (so you better appreciate it!). My arms hurt from carrying the machine gun everywhere, especially on our marches. It sucks, but you know what? At least I’m not a suicidal maniac who willingly accepted jumping out of a moving plane.

Despite how grueling training has been, I’ve managed to make some buddies. Billy Callahan acts just like Michel Alejandro does. He’s pure big brother and it makes it absolutely wonderful to annoy the shit out of him. Jamie O’Rourke is probably the funniest bastard I’ve ever met. You’d like him—he’s got that sharp wit you enjoy, and he can play the fiddle like a devil at a crossroads. I keep telling him we’d make a hell of a duo if we ever get out of this thing in one piece. Elijah Winters…man. What can I tell you?

He’s the coolest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. You ever meet someone who’s just effortlessly good at everything? That’s Eli. He’s got this whole quiet, brooding thing going on, and I swear, half the guys think he’s got some tragic backstory or some shit—but really? He’s just a guy who doesn’t waste words. He’s sharp, though. Real sharp. And when he does talk? You listen.

I think you’d get along with him, actually. You both have that watch-and-listen way of reading a room. Reminds me of how you can just look at someone and know if they’re about to pass out or puke their guts out. It’s a little freaky, but I get it.

Oh—and he never loses at cards. I think he’s hustling us, but I also think I’d rather just not know.

Isabella’s heart filled with warmth. She was so happy that her beloved baby brother had managed to make his place in training. It wasn’t that she doubted his ability to supersede the challenge, it’s just that Cameron was, well, Cameron.

“What’s got you smiling like that?”

Isabella jumped, hastily pressing the letter to her chest before twisting around to see Luz grinning down at her.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she huffed, shoving him lightly.

Luz just snickered, plopping down onto the bench beside her. “C’mon, what’s got you all giddy?”

She hesitated, then glanced down at the letter in her hands. “Cameron wrote me.”

At that, Luz’s grin softened. “Ah, Lucky, huh?”

Isabella blinked. “Wait, how do you—?”

“Kid, you talk about your people a lot when you’re half-asleep. Did you know you mumble?” Luz smirked. “I got all the inside scoop just listening to you ramble in your bunk.”

She groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “Oh, God.”

Luz chuckled, nudging her shoulder. “Relax, Vega. Ain’t nothing embarrassing.” He nodded toward the letter. “So? What’s he up to?”

She exhaled, letting the warmth from Cameron’s words settle in her chest again. “Making trouble, as usual.”

Luz snorted. “Figures.”

She smiled, thumbing over the paper. “But he’s got a good group. And he’s actually doing well. I mean, I knew he could, but…” She trailed off, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Luz leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. “But it’s different hearing it from him.”

She nodded.

“Do you want to read the rest with me?” she asked.

‘Anyway, Isa, these guys? They make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier. I think you’d like ‘em, Isa. Maybe even Eli—though, let’s be real, you’d probably just make fun of him for brooding too much.

Write me back soon, yeah? Tell me everything. Who’s been pissing you off? How many times have you had to patch up those trigger-happy idiots? Always remember you can handle whatever they throw at you, don’t let it get to you.

Your Lucky Charm,

Cameron Salazar’

Isabella smiled, shaking her head. “He always signs off like that.”

Luz snorted. “‘Your Lucky Charm?’”

She smirked. “It started when we were kids. He started sitting behind me on my math tests and voila, I started passing them. He’s been insufferable ever since.”

Luz grinned. “Oh, that’s gold. I’m using that.”

“Please don’t,” she groaned, nudging him with her elbow.

He chuckled, watching her carefully tuck the letter away in its envelope, her movements careful, almost reverent.

After a beat, he nudged her back, lighter this time. “He seems like a good kid.”

Isabella glanced at him. “Yeah. He is.”

There was something in her voice—something proud, but tinged with worry.

Luz picked up on it immediately. “Hey,” he said, tilting his head. “He’ll be alright.”

She swallowed, fingers lingering on the paper. “I know. I just—” She exhaled. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him.”

Luz leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Same way he’d feel if something happened to you.”

She looked down.

“He’s looking out for you too, y’know,” Luz added, nodding toward the letter. “Saying all that stuff about you handling whatever gets thrown at you. He wouldn’t write that if he didn’t believe it.”

Isabella pressed her lips together.

She knew Luz was right.

Still, it didn’t stop the gnawing ache in her chest.

“I know.” she started. “Let’s read the others!”

She carefully grabbed Lucas’s letter, confused at the return address.

“What’s wrong?” Luz inquired.

She hummed. “He’s supposed to be in South Carolina.”

‘Dear Birdie,

Knowing you, you’ll be scratching your head at the strange address on this envelope. Not to worry, it’s good news.

The Eight Air Force took me in, and I’m in Virginia now, training with the best damn pilots I’ve ever seen. I can hardly believe it myself. Every time I step into a plane, I think about all those summer afternoons when we’d lay in the field and watch the clouds, guessing what shapes they’d turn into. And now? Now I get to fly through them. Don’t ask me how I managed to get myself transferred over there, I can barely figure it out myself. I hated the Marines and I couldn’t be happier I got my ass out of there.’

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.

‘It’s cold as hell over here, though. And the food? Let’s just say if Mama could see what they’ve been feeding me, she’d have a heart attack on the spot. If you have any pull with those medics of yours, maybe send me a care package? I’m wasting away, Isa. Practically a skeleton.

Oh, and I finally got my own crew. They’re a bunch of lunatics, but they’re my kind of lunatics. I’ll tell you about them in another letter, but just know I’ve already got them wrapped around my little finger. Charisma, kid. You should try it sometime.

Keep writing, yeah? And don’t you dare do anything reckless before I get back. I’d hate to come home and find out you’ve single-handedly taken on the entire German army just to prove a point.

With love,

Your favorite Ace,

Lucas.’

Isabella exhaled, pressing the letter against her chest for a moment, letting herself take in the reality of it. Lucas had done it—somehow, against all odds, he had wriggled his way out of the Marines and landed exactly where he wanted to be.

She knew he would, but still—he actually did it.

Luz, still leaning over her shoulder, let out an impressed whistle. “Gotta hand it to him. Didn’t think it was possible to weasel out of the Marines.”

Isabella huffed a quiet laugh. “Neither did I.”

“You think he bribed someone?”

“Oh, absolutely.” She smirked. “Or talked their ears off until they got sick of him and signed whatever paperwork he wanted just to get him out of their hair.”

Luz snorted. “Yeah, that tracks.”

She carefully folded the letter, setting it beside Cameron’s, her fingers lingering on the paper. She missed them.

A lot.

But there was something reassuring about knowing they were all finding their place—each of them scattered, yet still bound together.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and grabbed the next envelope. “Alright, next one.”

Luz perked up. “Darren? Or Sina?”

Isabella flipped it over, recognizing the neat, familiar handwriting immediately. Sina.

She smiled. “Dolly.”

Luz grinned. “This one’s gonna be sweet, isn’t it?”

Isabella hummed as she unfolded the letter, already knowing that yes, it absolutely would be.

‘Isabellita,

I hope you’re taking care of yourself and not just running yourself into the ground trying to prove yourself to all those boys. I know you, and I know how stubborn you can be—but please, remember to rest.’

Isabella rolled her eyes fondly. Classic Sina.

‘New York is wonderful, Isa. The buildings are so tall, I feel like an ant walking between them. The training has been difficult, but I’m learning so much—I think I’ve found where I belong. Being in the WAVES is… different than I expected, but in a good way. I’m surrounded by so many strong, intelligent women, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.’

Isabella grinned at that, warmth filling her chest.

‘You’d love my unit. They remind me of home, and we keep each other sane. There’s Evelyn—she’s a spitfire from Boston, you two would get along like a house on fire. Then there’s Jo, who reminds me so much of Lucas it’s almost frightening, and Margaret, who is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. We all take turns doing each other’s hair, and don’t you dare laugh at me, Isa, but I’ve actually gotten good at styling victory rolls. (I’ll do yours next time I see you, just you wait.)’

Luz cackled. “Oh, this is gold.”

Isabella groaned. “Shut up.”

‘Write to me soon, okay? Tell me about Easy, about the boys you have to babysit—oh, and please tell me you’re still playing music. I know training is exhausting, but promise me you won’t let it go. It’s a part of you, Isa. Don’t let them take it from you.’

Isabella swallowed, blinking down at the words.

She had been writing—but not as much as she used to. Not like before. And she sure as hell wasn’t singing.

Luz must have caught the look on her face, because he nudged her lightly. “You alright?”

She nodded quickly, folding the letter. “Yeah. Just—thinking.”

Luz didn’t push, just hummed in understanding. “Dolly seems real sweet.”

“She is,” Isabella said softly.

‘P.S. You better tell me if any of those boys of yours are worth swooning over.

Yours truly,

Sina Navarro’

Luz burst out laughing. “Oh, she’s definitely your best friend.”

Isabella groaned, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t encourage her.”

“Oh, I will be writing her back on your behalf,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “And I’ll be sure to let her know all about how Easy’s finest have been falling over themselves around you.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

Isabella sighed as she put the letter back.

She missed her too.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the last letter—the one from Darren.

She hesitated for a moment before opening it, preparing herself.

Darren wasn’t sentimental like Cameron or Sina.

No—his letters would always be straight to the point.

And sure enough—

‘Isabella,

Marine training sucks. That’s it. That’s the letter.’

Isabella burst out laughing.

Luz wheezed. “Oh my God, that’s it?”

She flipped to the next page. “Wait, wait, there’s more.”

‘Fine. I’ll elaborate.

Parris Island is a hellhole, the humidity is worse than Florida, and my drill instructor is the meanest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. (Don’t tell Sina I said that.) I think I’ve had about four minutes of sleep since I got here. I hate it. But I’m good at it. And I think that’s worse.

My unit is solid. No one’s killed each other yet. But these guys? They’re real. I respect that. You’d like a few of ‘em. I’ll write more when I get the chance—assuming I survive.

Tell Lucas that just because he escaped the Marines doesn’t mean I won’t whoop his ass when I see him again.

Be good, Isabella. And don’t get yourself killed.

- Rook.’

Isabella snorted. “Jesus Christ, he’s dramatic.”

Luz grinned. “Yeah, I think I’d like him.”

She shook her head, staring down at the stack of letters now sitting in her lap.

“Alright, we still have three letters to go.”

As she went to open her mother’s letter, she felt people behind her yet again.

She sighed, rolling her eyes before she turned around.

“Can I help you?”

She was faced with a smug-faced Liebgott, arms crossed, Malarkey and Skip flanking him with identical grins, a curious Gene straggling behind. Luz, still lounging beside her, just chuckled under his breath.

Liebgott raised an eyebrow. “So, Birdie, who’s writing you love letters?”

Isabella groaned. “They’re from home, not love letters.”

Malarkey nudged her shoulder, peering at the stack in her hands. “Looked like a hell of a lot of ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Skip added, smirking. “Didn’t know you were such a lady of correspondence.”

She huffed, clutching the letters to her chest dramatically. “Oh, forgive me for having people who actually care about me.”

Liebgott let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. You got any scandalous ones in there, or are they all just your mom asking if you’ve been eating enough?”

Isabella narrowed her eyes at him before holding up the unopened envelope. “Actually, this one is from my mother, and knowing her, it’s at least four pages of exactly that.”

Skip whistled. “Damn. You gonna read it out loud?”

She rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not.”

Liebgott’s grin widened. “C’mon, what if she talks about your childhood? We need to know if you were always a menace.”

“I was a delightful child, thank you very much.”

Malarkey leaned in. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Luz snorted, flipping through one of Isabella’s discarded envelopes. “I dunno, boys. From the way her brothers write, I think she might’ve been the golden child.”

That earned a round of snickers.

Isabella, determined to ignore them, tore open her mother’s letter and began to read. She had barely gotten through the first paragraph before she groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

Skip, ever the instigator, perked up. “What? What’d she say?”

Isabella gritted her teeth. “She’s asking if I’ve been praying enough.”

Liebgott burst out laughing. “Oh, you are so screwed.”

Malarkey clapped her on the back. “Better hit the chapel, Birdie.”

She scowled. “I do pray!”

“Not enough, apparently,” Gene teased, surprising her.

Isabella threw her hands up, muttering under her breath before shaking the letter dramatically. “I’m gonna write her back and tell her all of you are heathens.”

Liebgott smirked. “She’ll probably tell you to convert us.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Isabella deadpanned.

The men were still chuckling when she sighed, folding the letter neatly before moving on to the next.

She hesitated.

This one was from Michel Alejandro.

She hadn’t heard from him in weeks.

The teasing faded just slightly when Luz caught the flicker of tension in her hands. “That one important?”

She nodded, exhaling slowly. “It’s from my brother.”

Liebgott and Malarkey exchanged a glance but, surprisingly, didn’t pry.

Isabella carefully slid the letter from its envelope, her heart already beating a little faster.

Isabella’s grip on the letter tightened, her breath hitching as she started reading.

‘Dear Isabella,

I don’t have much time to write, so I’ll be brief. I want you to know that I’m safe, but things are… getting worse over here. The war in the Pacific isn’t like anything we ever imagined, Isa. It’s brutal. Unforgiving. The kind of thing that changes men before they even realize it.’

Her heart pounded.

She could feel the weight behind his words, the exhaustion bleeding through the ink. Michel Alejandro wasn’t the kind of man to sugarcoat things, but he wasn’t dramatic either. If he was telling her this, it meant he needed her to know.

She swallowed hard and kept reading.

‘I don’t want you to worry, but I also don’t want you to be naive. I know you, little sister. I know you take everything onto your own shoulders, even when you shouldn’t. But I need you to remember something—’

She could already tell what was coming.

‘You cannot save everyone.’

Her fingers dug into the paper.

‘I can’t imagine how much you love those boys of yours, and I know you’ll do everything in your power to keep them safe. But you need to remember that some things are out of your hands. You’re not God. You’re just one person. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. And the sooner you accept it, the better you’ll be when things start to fall apart.’

She forced in a deep breath.

‘Be strong, little sister. But don’t be reckless. And don’t let this war take away the best parts of you.’

The words blurred slightly, and she had to blink quickly before her vision could go completely hazy.

‘I’ll write again when I can. Give my love to Mama and Papa.

Yours,

Michel Alejandro’

She sat still, the letter trembling in her hands.

“Vega?”

Luz’s voice was softer this time, like he knew.

She cleared her throat, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile. “He’s safe.”

Nobody commented on the way her voice wavered slightly.

Instead, Malarkey nudged her gently. “That’s good news.”

She nodded, folding the letter carefully and tucking it away before she could let herself linger on it any longer. She still had one more letter left.

Maya’s.

Isabella took a steadying breath, running her fingers over the edges of the final envelope. Maya’s handwriting was familiar, the curves and loops distinct from the rest, but it still made her stomach twist with something she couldn’t quite name.

She hesitated.

Maya had always been strong. Resilient. She wasn’t the type to let things slip, not unless they really mattered. Which meant whatever was in this letter… it mattered.

Luz, who had been watching her closely, nudged her lightly. “Need a minute?”

She shook her head, inhaling sharply before finally tearing open the envelope.

‘いさ、

I hope this letter reaches you well. Anzu and Taiga send their love (though Taiga mostly just chewed on the corner of this paper before I could stop him). They miss their Isa terribly, as do I. The house isn’t the same without you.’

Isabella’s throat tightened.

‘Your mother keeps busy, of course, but I can see the way she watches the mailbox every morning. The way your father lingers on the porch, pretending he isn’t waiting for news. They miss you, but they’re proud of you. So proud. You should see the way your mother talks about you at church. They all know your name now. Even Father Miguel asks about you in every service.’

She huffed a small, watery laugh.

‘Things are changing here, though. It’s harder than it was before. People whisper more, they stare longer. I don’t go into town unless I have to. Anzu doesn’t understand, but she knows something isn’t right. I see it in her eyes every time she asks why we can’t go to the park like we used to. But don’t worry about us. I mean it, Isa. Your only job right now is to take care of yourself. And I know you’re not.’

Isabella stiffened.

‘I know you’re pushing yourself too hard. I know you’re holding too much. I know you, Isabella Vega, and I know you won’t admit it to anyone else, so I’ll say it first: you are not alone. You don’t have to be. Those men—your boys—I hope they know what they have in you. I hope they look out for you the way you do for them. I hope they remind you to eat, to sleep, to laugh.

That’s enough of the sad things. Have you found yourself a 素敵な兵士 yet? I want to make sure the 着物 doesn’t get forgotten. Make sure to remember to take care of yourself, and have fun. You’re still young and you deserve to be happy. Please don’t forget that.

With all my love,

Maya’

Isabella giggled at Maya’s insistence at her finding a ‘handsome soldier’ to wear her kimono for. It was incredibly unlikely Isabella was ever going to let that thing see the light of day, especially with how much the men disliked anything Japanese at the moment.

To her delight, she finds a drawing from Anzu on an extra page. Anzu had messily drawn her in her dress greens, surrounded by Anzu’s interpretations of Liebgott, Roe, Luz, Skip, Penkala, and Malarkey.

“Ooh, what do we have here?” Luz asked.

Isabella smiles wide. “I’m guessing my sister-in-law has been reading my letters to my niece and nephew.”

Luz leaned in, squinting at the crayon figures. “Oh, this is gold. Which one’s supposed to be me?”

Isabella pointed at a figure with what appeared to be wildly exaggerated hair. “Take a guess.”

Luz gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “I have never felt more seen.”

Skip reached over, peering at the page. “Why does Malarkey look like he’s got a whole mop on his head?”

Malarkey scoffed. “The kid has taste, clearly.”

Gene, who had been silent beside her, tapped at another figure—one drawn with a clear red cross on the arm. “That me?”

Isabella nodded, her heart warming at the sight of it. “She probably remembers me telling her you take care of me.”

Gene hummed, a soft chuckle escaping. “Guess I got the official approval, then.”

Liebgott, who had been feigning disinterest, finally glanced over. “And what about me?”

Isabella smirked. “Oh, you’re this one.”

She pointed to a very jagged, wild-looking figure with what appeared to be an oversized, angry mouth.

Liebgott deadpanned. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Luz burst into laughter. “Oh, this is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Isabella bit her lip to keep from grinning too hard. “Hey, don’t be mad! It just means you made an impression when Maya read the letters.”

Liebgott groaned, shaking his head. “I swear to God, if I ever meet your niece, I’m demanding a redraw.”

“Oh, trust me,” Isabella giggled, folding the letter carefully. “She’s just getting started.”

The warmth of home lingered in her chest as she tucked the papers safely into her pocket. Despite the exhaustion, despite the grueling training, despite everything—they were still with her, still a part of her.

And for now, that was enough.

She made a mental note to write back that weekend when she had time.

Breakfast had gone by and so had the rest of the day. She was hoping her week would keep on going on the same high note, and she felt it would.

Until Friday.

Lieutenant Sobel had been promoted that day to Captain, and subsequently, Winters from Second Lieutenant to First Lieutenant.

Sobel hadn’t been happy.

When they returned to the barracks later that afternoon after training ended, they had been greeted at the barracks with their belongings strewn across the floor, mattresses flipped.

A stunned silence fell over the room as the men stepped inside, surveying the mess. Footlockers were thrown open, clothes and personal belongings tossed carelessly onto the floor.

Skip let out a long, low whistle. "Well. Ain't this a warm welcome home?"

Isabella’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. Her hands clenched at her sides as she scanned the room, already feeling a sickening sense of dread creeping up her spine. She rushed forward, her eyes immediately landing on her footlocker—thrown onto its side, contents spilling across the floor.

Her letters.

Her pictures.

Her journal.

Her stuffed animals.

Her personal sanitary items.

And, worst of all—

The cardboard box that held her kimono was cracked open, the delicate fabric spilling out onto the dirty floorboards.

She inhaled sharply, her breath catching.

Behind her, Malarkey cursed. "What the hell is this?"

"Somebody’s got it out for us," Skip muttered darkly.

Gene’s gaze flickered to Isabella, watching as she carefully knelt down, her hands hovering over the silk like she wasn’t sure if she should even touch it. His jaw tightened. “Vega…”

She forced herself to breathe. Slowly. Carefully. Her hands trembled slightly as she gathered the fabric, her fingers brushing over the delicate embroidery.

Liebgott exhaled sharply through his nose. “This is some real petty bullshit.”

"Gee, I wonder who could’ve done this," Penkala said dryly.

As if on cue, the barracks door swung open again.

“Ten-hut!” Guarnere snapped, straightening immediately.

Sobel strode inside, his expression unreadable, but the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable.

A slow rage burned through Isabella’s chest.

He didn’t say anything, just surveyed them for a long, tense moment before finally speaking.

"You men have been getting a little too comfortable." His voice was even, almost casual. "And I think you've forgotten who’s in charge around here."

The silence was suffocating.

Winters, who had walked in just moments before, took a step forward. His voice was carefully neutral. “Captain Sobel.”

Sobel barely spared him a glance. “First Lieutenant Winters.” He said the title like it was bitter on his tongue.

Nobody moved.

Isabella, still kneeling beside her things, gritted her teeth, willing herself to keep her mouth shut. To stay calm. To not react.

“Private Vega,” Sobel started. “It seems that you have quite a bit of contraband in your bunk.”

The words barely registered at first.

Isabella’s grip on the silk tightened, her breath hitching as she slowly lifted her gaze to Sobel.

Contraband.

Her journal. Her letters. Her kimono.

Liebgott took a sharp step forward, but Malarkey stopped him with a look.

Winters, however, was already moving. “Captain Sobel,” he said evenly, voice dangerously calm. “There’s nothing in Private Vega’s bunk that violates regulations besides the stuffed animals.”

Sobel barely glanced at him, his lips curling ever so slightly. “That’s not for you to decide, Lieutenant.”

The emphasis on the rank was deliberate. Petty.

Winters held his ground, but Isabella could see the flicker of something cold in his eyes.

Sobel turned his attention back to her, his gaze flickering down to the kimono still clutched in her hands. “It’s curious, isn’t it? Our medic, of all people, keeping something like this so close. A gift, I assume?”

Isabella forced herself to swallow the immediate response clawing up her throat. She could feel the men around her tense.

The men began to whisper, finally realizing what she had in her hands. What the words on her opened letters looked like.

Japanese.

The weight of their stares settled on her like a stone. The realization crept through the barracks in a slow, suffocating wave—whispers sharpening into quiet murmurs, disbelief flickering through the ranks like the first strike of a match.

She could feel it.

The shift.

The hesitation.

The doubt.

Penkala was the first to react, stepping just a little closer to her, his usual grin nowhere to be found. Skip wasn’t far behind, his brows drawn in something that wasn’t quite judgment, but wasn’t far from it either. Malarkey’s gaze flickered between her and the silk in her hands, something unreadable crossing his face.

Even Gene, quiet and steady as he was, looked like he didn’t know what to say.

Liebgott, though—he stiffened.

She could feel the heat of his stare, sharp and scrutinizing.

Sobel saw it, too.

And he fed off it.

“I have to wonder,” Sobel mused, loud enough for all of them to hear. “If you’ve been writing letters home, Private Vega, who exactly have you been writing to?”

The words settled like a lead weight in the room.

A pointed, deliberate accusation.

She couldn’t stop the sharp inhale that followed, her grip tightening around the silk so hard her knuckles turned white.

A bitter taste filled her mouth.

“You son of a bitch,” Liebgott muttered, voice low, simmering with something ugly.

Isabella swallowed down the immediate urge to lash out, to throw something, to snap.

She had always known this moment would come.

From the second she had signed her name on the enlistment papers, from the moment she had been assigned to Easy, she had known.

And yet, knowing didn’t make it easier.

Didn’t make it hurt any less.

She turned her gaze to Sobel, her jaw set.

“My brother’s wife,” she said, slow and deliberate, forcing herself to stay calm, even as her pulse roared in her ears. “She had it made for my birthday. It was made for my Coming of Age ceremony. Years from now.”

Sobel hummed, feigning interest. “Years from now? And yet you decided to bring it here. Why?”

She straightened her spine.

“Because I don’t know if I’ll live to see that day.”

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

The murmurs died.

Even Sobel, for the first time in his miserable life, faltered.

For a moment—just a moment—Isabella allowed herself to meet the eyes of the men around her.

Skip, quiet and serious in a way he rarely ever was.

Malarkey, arms crossed, something like conflict flickering across his face.

Penkala, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

Gene, unreadable, but his gaze never wavering.

And Liebgott—

Liebgott, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides, staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

She exhaled slowly, forcing her hands to stop shaking.

“My family isn’t the enemy,” she said, voice steady despite the way her stomach twisted. “And neither am I.”

No one spoke.

Then—

Winters stepped forward, putting himself directly between her and Sobel.

“That’s enough,” he said, voice even but firm.

Sobel’s mouth twitched.

But he didn’t push further.

Not this time.

He let the silence stretch for another moment before simply exhaling, shrugging like this was all beneath him.

“Pack it away, Private,” he said, tone dismissive. “And don’t let me see it again.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the barracks, the door slamming shut behind him.

The tension remained.

Isabella’s fingers curled into the silk once more, forcing herself to breathe through the sharp sting behind her eyes.

And then—

Malarkey, ever the idiot, broke the silence.

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was… a lot.”

Guarnere shot him a look. “No shit.”

Liebgott was still looking at her.

She met his gaze, shoulders tense, waiting for the first harsh word, the first slip of doubt, the first accusation.

Instead—

“…So that’s what was in the box.”

She blinked.

Skip let out something that might’ve been a laugh. “Jesus, Lieb, way to cut the tension.”

Liebgott ignored him, still watching her.

Something unreadable crossed his face.

Then, with a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “Guess we owe you a new box.”

Isabella stared.

And then—

A breathless, disbelieving chuckle escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Because of course that was what he focused on.

“You’re all idiots.”

Gene ran a hand over the flimsy cardboard box, his lips pressing together. “This thing’s not gonna last much longer.”

Isabella sighed, running a finger along the creased edges. The box had already been worn from travel, but now, after being tossed around and crushed underfoot, it was barely holding together.

Liebgott clicked his tongue. “Jesus, they couldn’t have at least left your stuff alone?”

Skip nudged him. “You say that like Sobel isn’t the pettiest bastard alive.”

Malarkey hummed. “Guess we better get you a new one, Vega.”

Isabella exhaled sharply, staring down at the kimono still half-spilled over her lap. The fabric was fine, smooth under her fingertips, a stark contrast to the rough barracks floor.

She was still trying to process everything—how close she had been to losing this, how quickly the air had shifted, how the letters scrawled in careful, loving strokes had nearly been turned against her.

“…What’s a coming of age ceremony?”

She looked up.

Guarnere had come over and was watching her, head tilted slightly, genuine curiosity on his face.

Isabella blinked. “Huh?”

He gestured to the kimono. “You said earlier… this was supposed to be for something called a coming of age ceremony, right?”

Malarkey perked up. “Oh, yeah. What’s that?”

The men, despite their previous tension, were now shifting back into that natural state of camaraderie, of intrigue. Even Liebgott, though still leaning against his bunk with arms crossed, was paying close attention.

Isabella hesitated, unsure of how to explain something that felt so deeply ingrained in a culture that wasn’t even hers by blood—but was still hers in every other way.

She smoothed a hand over the fabric, fingers tracing the delicate embroidery of the sakura blossoms.

“In Japan,” she started slowly, “when you turn twenty, you’re officially considered an adult. It’s called Seijin Shiki. A coming of age ceremony.”

Skip frowned slightly. “Twenty? That’s a little late, ain’t it?”

Isabella shrugged. “Maybe. But that’s how they do it. The girls wear furisode like this,” she gestured to the kimono, “because the long sleeves represent youth and new beginnings.”

Luz leaned forward, intrigued. “So it’s, like, a big celebration?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “They go to a ceremony, they hear speeches, and then they celebrate with their families. It’s a way of welcoming them into adulthood.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

Then Malarkey muttered, “…That’s actually kinda nice.”

Isabella huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. It is.”

Liebgott’s voice cut through, less sharp than usual. “So why wear it now?”

Her breath caught.

She stared down at the silk, at the careful folds, at the weight of it in her hands.

“…Because I don’t know if I’ll make it to twenty.”

The barracks fell silent again, this time heavier, weighted with something none of them could brush off.

Gene’s gaze flickered toward her, something unreadable in his eyes.

Penkala let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair.

Malarkey shifted on his feet, suddenly looking younger than he was.

Isabella swallowed, trying to shake off the unease. “Anyway,” she forced a small smile, “I figured if I wasn’t going to wear it for my actual coming of age, I’d at least wear it for something.”

Skip huffed, nudging her knee lightly with his boot. “Guess that makes sense.”

Guarnere, ever the one to break tension, grinned. “Well, Doll, it is a hell of a look.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest remained.

“I’ll wear it one day. If you guys are okay with it.”

Liebgott snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go parading around Sobel, or he might actually drop dead.”

That earned a laugh from the group, breaking the heavy air just enough.

Isabella smirked, folding the fabric carefully, ensuring not a single thread was out of place before she tucked it back into what remained of the cardboard box. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Guarnere crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Y’know, Vega, if it’s that important to you, we’ll keep an eye on it. Make sure it don’t get messed with again.”

She blinked, looking up at him, at all of them—Malarkey, Skip, Penkala, Gene, Guarnere, Liebgott, all standing around her like they’d already made the unspoken decision.

Her throat tightened slightly. “You guys don’t have to do that.”

Guarnere scoffed. “Oh, please. You think we’re gonna let Sobel screw with you again?”

Skip nodded. “We’ll stash it somewhere safe. Just say the word.”

Isabella exhaled, warmth spreading in her chest. She glanced at the kimono one last time, running her fingers lightly over the obi before looking back at them.

“…Thanks,” she murmured. “Really.”

Guarnere grinned, giving her shoulder a firm pat. “Anytime, Doll.”

Liebgott, ever the smartass, smirked. “So, Vega, now that we’re all feeling sentimental, think you’re finally gonna tell us who’s getting that kimono treatment your sister keeps mentioning?”

She rolled her eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

Skip gasped dramatically, hand over his heart. “So there is a handsome soldier in the running!”

Malarkey snickered. “Bet it’s Winters.”

“Jesus Christ,” Isabella groaned, burying her face in her hands as laughter erupted around her.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still things unspoken, still tensions that couldn’t be fully erased in one night.

But as she sat there, surrounded by her boys, their teasing voices filling the barracks, she had a realization—

“Wait!”

Everyone quieted down and Isabella’s ears burned as she bowed her head down in embarrassment.

“Can you guys turn away? Not really comfortable with the whole platoon blatantly looking at my unmentionables.”

Skip was the first to snicker, throwing an arm around Malarkey’s shoulder. “Aw, c’mon, Doll. We’ve been through hell together. You mean to tell me you don’t trust us?”

Isabella shot him a glare. “I trust you just fine, Warren, I just don’t trust your nosy ass.”

Liebgott held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough.”

Skip nudged Guarnere with a smirk. “C’mon, boys, let’s give the lady some space before she loses her mind.”

With exaggerated sighs and grumbles, the men turned away, though not without a few last-minute jabs.

“Don’t take too long, Vega, or we’re gonna start charging rent,” Penkala teased.

“I swear to God, I will dump my entire footlocker on your bunk, Penk,” she shot back.

A few more chuckles rippled through the group, but they respected her request, giving her a semblance of privacy as she quickly reorganized her things.

Gene, who had stayed close, lingered for just a second longer before speaking quietly, “You alright?”

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “Yeah. Just—didn’t think I’d have to reorganize my whole life today.”

His lips twitched slightly.

She huffed a laugh, finally securing the last of her belongings before standing up.

“Alright, you idiots,” she announced, hands on her hips. “Crisis averted. You can turn back around.”

Malarkey spun dramatically. “Doll, you wound me. You think we were looking?”

Isabella scoffed. “Malarkey, if you don’t shut up, I’m feeding your socks to the laundry gremlins.”

He gasped. “Not the gremlins.”

Penkala grinned. “Alright, alright. Enough torture. What’s next, Vega? You wanna read our fortunes too?”

She smirked. “Depends. You wanna know how many more miles Sobel’s gonna make us run?”

A collective groan filled the barracks.

Guarnere clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Doll, you keep talking like that, and we’re gonna start thinking you like making our lives miserable.”

She grinned. “Maybe just a little.”

It wasn’t perfect. But they were hers.

And for tonight, that was enough.

translation: いさ-Isa, 素敵な兵士-Handsome Soldier, 着物- Kimono

taglist: @darling-heffron, @malarkgirlypop

#hbo war #band of brothers #fics #easy's songbird #band of brothers fanfic

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uppastthejelliclemoon · 1 year ago

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Cats 1998 Anniversary Celebration

Day Six: Favorite background moment- Misto almost getting hit in the face with the ball during RTT

Tugger grinned, kicking the ball as Plato tossed it to him. He could feel Mistoffelees’ eyes on his back, the small smile that was no doubt on the other tom’s face, and his swagger increased.

The maine coon had meant for the ball to be caught by his lovely magical mate.

He had meant for it to be a flirtatious toss, accompanied by a wink and an eyebrow wiggle to make Mistoffelees blush and roll his eyes in that wonderfully aloof way of his.

However, as he watched the ball soar towards Mistoffelees, Tugger’s eyes widened in horror as the ball’s trajectory went straight towards the black cat’s face. Luckily, Mistoffelees diverted the direction by sending the ball over his head, but leveled the maine coon with an unamused stare as Tugger went back to singing.

Oh, he’d be paying for that later.

Later happened to be during the Dance, when Tugger approached Mistoffelees to pull him into a short duet, as they always did during the Ball. He held out his paw, but Mistoffelees sniffed playfully at him before turning tail and joining Cassandra in a duet, as Alonzo was entertaining his younger brothers.

Tugger was left wide-eyed and jaw dropped as he heard Munkustrap’s muffled snickers behind him. He turned to glare at his brother, who simply gave him a shit-eating grin and spun away with his own mate.

When it came time for Victoria and Plato’s dance, Tugger approached Mistoffelees, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him close, leaning against their pipe as they watched the dance.

“It must be nice for Vicki to have a mate that doesn’t try to kill her.” Mistoffelees mused, even as he nuzzled against Tugger’s mane.

Tugger let out a groan, burying his face in Mistoffelees’ shoulder. “I’m going to be suffering for the rest of the week because of that, aren’t I.”

Mistoffelees laughed, the low, quiet sound making Tugger fall in love all over again. “Maybe for a little while.” He turned his head, kissing Tugger’s jaw gently. “Though your face when it happened was probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought I was going to hit your face.” Tugger whispered, dramatically draping himself across his mate’s side. “The thought of damaging your beauty… it would have been a tragedy.”

“The real tragedy would be Vicki and Plato seeing that we’re talking during their dance.” Mistoffelees replied, but he lifted a paw to run through Tugger’s mane.

Tugger hummed in agreement, his eyes locking onto his two very best friends as they began to dance with each other.

After a moment, he spoke once more, voice only audible to his mate.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven and we can forget that ever happened?”

“Ask me tomorrow when my sister’s not performing her mating dance with our closest friend.”

“So no?”

“No, darling.”

“Shit.”

#cats the musical #cats 1998 #rum tum tugger #mr mistoffelees #tuggoffelees #cats 1998 anniversary celebration #y'all thought you were escaping this week without me writing some tuggoff???#liv's writing corner

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mslovett · 1 year ago

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magazine matchups

vil x reader

you and vil were supposed to just be colleagues, but as your work kept pushing you closer and closer together, you couldn’t help but fall for one another.

a/n: this is another repost of a previously deleted fic I posted. also can’t believe i ever deleted this, this is like the funniest thing I’ve ever written (imho)

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His absence was something you barely noticed, just as his presence. You weren’t oblivious to it, however. It started out as a coincidence, the two of you ended up modelling for a few projects together, which had the internet going wild. Soon enough, it turned into free advertising, and your managers were intentionally pulling the strings so that you’d be working together. If anything, the nonsensical rumours that came out of it were kind of annoying - other than that, you had no strong opinion about working with him, or his personality.

He wasn’t exactly a constant in your life either, that’s why you almost didn’t notice his unannounced break from the public eye. You remembered him after seeing a now slightly old article about the SDC, ah that’s right, he’d taken a break from almost all of his work to focus on the competition, which had ended a couple of months ago. Despite this, you can’t recall him coming back to the limelight since.

Might as well check his magicam page, you thought. He still posted there, would it be weird to follow him out of nowhere? Eh, who cares- you did it anyways, and then went to bed.

As always, it felt like the sun rose far too early to wake you from your slumber. Your alarm hasn’t gone off yet, or you hoped it hadn’t at least. You checked the time, and you were fine, you didn’t oversleep.

In the meantime you should probably check the texts you got from Neige, your certified best friend who doesn’t usually text you at six in the morning.

“Hey, Y/N! You’re trending on magicam, so is you and Vil’s ship-name, did you know?”

Um, what? That was… strange? Honestly, you really wanted to see what was going on, but you’d be late for school if you let social media get a grip on you right now.

Break time. It felt pretty exciting to hear the bell ring this time around, since you’d been itching to find out what had you on the trending page, it’s not like you did anything either spectacular or offensive recently.

Damn, Neige really wasn’t lying, then again, you couldn’t recall any time he ever has. Your expression died down comically quick, as you kept scrolling through the tagged posts. Your fans were literally insane sometimes, to the point were maybe following someone new on your public account was a bit of a mistake. Basically all of your conjoined fandom was trying to theorise over Vil being added to the list of people you follow, which was otherwise only Neige and your manager. Really, it was a slight disappointment, but it was also kind of funny, at least the internet didn’t decide it was time for a dose of unjust cancel culture just yet.

A few days later, after school had let up, you went to hang out with Neige in town. It was a tradition between you two, a way to keep in contact despite your busy schedules. The two of you often cycled round different attractions or areas in the city, sometimes just opting to walk around and talk. This time, you were headed to the local museum. It was interesting to read about all the history loaded behind what seemed like a simple piece of pottery, or learn about how certain things were used to supplement both the lack of technology and magic of the older world.

It was mostly things you’d seen here before though, but you’d never paid much mind to the modern art section, you realised after thinking about it. “Hey Neige, should we go look over there? Who knows, they might have your portrait framed or something.”

Your joke was received with a light laugh and, “Sure, let’s go take a look!”

This section of the museum felt a lot smaller, but there were even less people willing to marvel at the paintings that adorned the walls. Coincidentally, the one other person that was there happened to be someone both you and Neige recognised. You wondered if he visited the place a lot, people don’t tend to look so blank whilst visiting a museum by themselves.

Neige turned to you, excited to ask if it’d to be alright to approach him. That’s right, you’d somewhat forgotten that those two knew each-other. “Yeah sure, I don’t mind.” As soon as the sound of his name filled the room, his head turned, and his expression looked mildly annoyed. Did he look like that before? God, you’d have to hope the two of you weren’t upsetting him. Your friend however, didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary as he continued to make small talk.

Gradually, said small talk came to close, and Neige had invited him to spend more time with the two of you, though Vil politely declined. He was rather curt, but he didn’t seem like a bad person, if anything your opinion hadn’t changed since you first worked with him.

Before waving goodbye, you rushed to scribble your phone number down on a crumpled piece of paper to give to him. Momentarily, you pondered wether that was a good decision to make, as he almost stayed silent, but soon put on a smile and thanked you. It was an awkward first meet.

Vil turned away after the two of you had left, it was due time to head back to his dorm, despite his visit to the museum serving a different purpose than intended. For Vil, he had hoped to come about some inspiration in preparation for returning to his work but meeting Neige was a frustration in its own right, considering how a large part of his break was dedicated to self improvement after realising his envy was severely holding him back.

Regardless of his efforts, it was disappointing to see Neige thrive under the same conditions as him and yet thwart all the hardships that Vil faced. Whilst his perfection was his pride it robbed him of approachability.

You however, offered him your number despite how out-of-reach he often is to people through your slight uncomfortableness. He thought it was folly of you, but it was a rare boldness that wasn’t unbeffiting of you - having only experienced similar things from Rook, who sometimes took it to an extreme.

Maybe it came from you also being in the industry, but he found himself thinking fondly of it. When Vil arrived at pomefiore once again, he decided to follow you back on magicam, not unaware of you doing so a few days back, although he made no effort to add your contact to his phone. You were still asleep by morning, enjoying the extra time the weekend was granting you. When you did wake up, you checked your phone, a part of your usual morning routine. ‘Oh, he doesn’t hate me’ was what came to mind after seeing that Vil had followed you back.

Not having any plans today you thought to message him on the app, curious as to wether he’d reply. “Hey, how are you doing? Hope we didn’t bother you yesterday.”

After sending that short message you looked through your feed for a bit. Reasonably soon you got an awfully formal response back. Apparently he didn’t mind your presence the other day, which was nice to know. Now however, you were in a position of not knowing wether or not to continue the conversation or what to say. Reaching out to someone over something so minuscule without making an attempt at getting closer with them proved kind of useless, so the two of you briefly discussed your musings about school and work before cutting the conversation.

That was the last time either of you had talked to one another until the two of you inevitably crossed paths again, outside of the internet. This time, the two of you met at a more understandable place, a model’s holy grail, the skincare section.

Another thing to note was that this time, he was not unaccompanied, unlike you. His purple-haired friend was actually who drew your attention away from the ingredient list on the bottle you were looking at. Being a bit louder than intended, he was complaining about this excursion being a waste of time and effort. When you did turn around, you saw Vil glaring daggers into the poor boys soul. Maybe they weren’t friends as you’d initially thought?

Ignoring it would’ve been your best bet but as you heard Vil sigh and mutter something along the lines of ‘I thought we were past this’ you realised he was dragging himself and his possible-friend in your direction. The two of them started looking at the labels of product after product, after Vil had scanned the shelf for a short while. Vil looked quite nonchalant while doing so, but his friend seemed awfully confused when absentmindedly staring at the product. Considering you knew one of them, you thought it might be good to offer up some advice, and recommend a couple brands.

Vil was actually quite thankful for your help, due to him only using products that he’s created himself, he was only aware of what was currently popular rather than beneficial. And this wouldn’t have been the best way to teach Epel how to pick out certain products without any good examples. He thanked you, and invited you to hang out over coffee some time as a thank you.

It was perhaps a little overboard, but neither of you really minded, considering how it was starting to seem that you could become decent friends. And that was how you ended up here, finally settled in to a popular cafe, that at first proved to be a bit of a poor choice, specifically due to its popularity.

When the two of you met up, the people already around the place started to form a crowd around you. It was reasonable, after all people don’t see celebrities everyday, and whilst you were used to it, it could prove to be rather bothersome. Of course, both of you handled the situation well, but there was something so enchanting about how graceful he was with each and every person who approached him, and how he was able to express his appreciation all the while making sure his air of perfectionism never slipped.

When you eventually got a moment of quiet together, you made sure to learn a lot about each other. He wouldn’t say it out-right, but you could surmise that the purple-haired boy from before and a huntsman named Rook were his set of friends. It sounded like an interesting group, but cute nonetheless. You also figured out that a lot of his personal life revolves around his work, or maybe it would be better to say that they happened to coincide.Despite that, he still seemed less daunting now that you’d got to know him a little.

Naturally, you two hung out a lot more after that, and it was fun as you got more comfortable. You even got to do things like convincing him to pose for you to draw him because, “come one, it’ll be extra practice!” He didn’t look amused at all, but he still let you.

Sketching Vil was enjoyable, but he wouldn’t let you notice how he got increasingly anxious as time passed. Vil normally had no reason to feel anxious around anyone, he usually felt confident in himself, but the issue was that his confidence was surprisingly conditional.

It was strange though, the only person to ever make him feel insecure before was Neige, yet you didn’t make him feel threatened. He could only come to one conclusion as to why he was becoming increasingly sensitive to your opinion on him, and being as self aware as he is, the answer didn’t come as a shock to him. But acknowledging that he was in love was a scary revelation to make.

As you finished up your drawings and showed them to him whilst raving about how pretty he was, he calmed down. His appearance was the main factor in his confidence, and reminding himself that he would always have power in that regard soothed his anxiousness, but what really relieved him this time around was the fact that you weren’t judging him.

The next time you were on-set participating in a photo-shoot together, you’d known beforehand. You were both affiliated with the same company, and had managed to put two and two together when discussing your work schedule.

Things felt a lot more light-hearted than all of the other times you’d worked together. Seeing him there as you’d entered the room put a smile on your face.

As you’d taken your last shot together, and everything was getting cleared up, you went to take your arm of Vil’s shoulder, but as you were doing so, he grabbed your hand. You could feel him tense up, and the walls started to feel slightly closer than before. “What’s wrong?” You couldn’t help but be worried. You saw him take a second to compose himself, before he leaned closer to you and whispered a short confession in your ear, “I’ve happened to find myself loving you… Would you be mine?”

That was… unexpected.

But when you said yes, Vil found himself experiencing a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time, and enveloped you in a gentle, heartfelt hug. The two of you stayed there for quite some time, ignoring everyone else around you because they didn’t matter.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil #twst x reader #dtw

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