#so I had to pass it on to everyone else too

[lvnleah]

rory’s first period.

hii! this is the first teen!roo fic, she’s 11 in this one and it’s set in March 2030. it’s set during what I’ve written as beth’s last season before retiring. beth is 34 and viv is 33!

You’d been in the middle of a passing drill, focused on the ball at your feet when you felt… off. It wasn’t painful, exactly. Just a strange, uncomfortable feeling low in your stomach. You tried to ignore it, finishing the drill and moving to the next one, but when you stopped for water, you felt it again.

Something was wrong.

“You okay?” Your friend, Madelyn, murmured from beside you. “You look a little…pale?”

You hummed and nodded, “Mhm, just sore from training that’s it.”

“Break over!” Your coach called out, “Let’s get back to those drills, I want your passing more cleaner this time. Focus!”

You huffed as you went back to passing drills but your mind couldn’t shift away from the pain that lingered in your stomach. As the ball came to your feet once again, you passed it back to Madelyn before running to your coach. 

He wasn’t exactly your favourite person in the world but he was alright. After all, he was the one who got you to join the Arsenal academy last year. 

“I need to go to the toilet…” you muttered, “It’s urgent, coach.”

Your coach barely spared you a glance as he focused on the drill, “Make it quick.” He grumbled. 

You nodded and jogged towards the training centre where the toilets were. Luckily, today you were training at the main training ground as a part of an experience. You knew the place like the back of your hand after basically growing up there. 

By the time you made it inside the training centre and into a stall, your hands were shaking. You pulled your shorts down and that’s when the realisation hit you. 

There was blood in your shorts.

Your breath came fast, panic creeping up your throat. You knew what it was. You weren’t a little kid, and you’d talked about school. Your Arsenal aunts had always been very open about their periods too. 

But knowing about a period and actually dealing with it were two very different things.

You had nothing with you. No clue what to do.

Your first instinct was to call for your coach, but the idea of explaining this in front of everyone made you want to curl up and disappear.

The only person you really wanted though was Beth. 

Beth was training with the first team today. If you could just find her then you knew your mum would be able to help you. Your mum always knew what to do. 

You pulled your hoodie off and tied it around your waist even though it was cold, and slipped out of the changing rooms. The halls of the training centre were mostly empty, but when you reached the gym, you hesitated.

You could see Beth through the doors but she wasn’t alone. Leah and Monkey were there too, along with the rest of the squad as they worked in the gym. 

Your stomach twisted. You’d wanted to just grab Beth and go, but now you’d have to get her attention without letting everyone else hear.

You peeked through the window in the door, looking around to see if you could get to Beth who was on the other side of the gym without drawing attention to yourself. Why were you so nervous? You knew you didn’t have to be nervous because these were your aunts, people you’d grown up around. 

Just as you went to duck out of view, Leah’s eyes met yours and she was quick to stand up and come out to you in the hallway. 

“Roo?” She said as she closed the gym door behind her. “What are you doing here? Thought you were with the U12s.”

You shifted on your feet. “I-I need Mum.”

Leah frowned, glancing toward the gym. “She’s in the gym. What’s wro—”

“Like I really need Mum,” you cut in, voice a little shakier than you meant it to be. “I got my period, Le. I don’t know what to do.”

Leah’s eyes flicked over you, landing on the hoodie tied around your waist. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she said softly as she brought you into a hug. “Hang on. I’ll get your mum, yeah?”

She turned and jogged over to Beth on the other side of the gym, saying something you couldn’t hear. A second later, Beth was moving, heading straight for you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked as she closed the door behind her. “Why didn’t you come in?”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to say it out loud. “I-I think…I got my period.” You mumbled. 

Beth blinked, and then her face softened. “Oh, Roo.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you blinked furiously, not wanting to cry over this. But Beth just pulled you into a hug and placed a kiss on your temple. 

“Alright, munchkin, let’s go sort you out, yeah?”

You nodded quickly, feeling a little bit better just having her here. Beth kept an arm around your shoulders as she led you toward the changing rooms, keeping her voice soft and steady.

“You’re okay, Roo. This happens to everyone. I promise it’s nothing to worry about.”

“I didn’t think it’d be like this,” you admitted, voice small. “In the middle of football.”

Beth chuckled. “What a way, eh? I know the first time can be a bit scary, but we’ll get you sorted.”

When you reached the changing rooms, she guided you inside and rummaged through her locker before pulling out a small pouch.

“Lucky for you, your brilliant Mumma is always prepared.” She handed you a pad. “I’ll talk you through it if you need.”

You took it, grateful but still embarrassed. Beth must’ve noticed because she just smiled and ruffled your hair.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, munchkin. We’ve all been there.”

You went into the stall, figuring things out as best you could with Beth talking you through the door. When you stepped out, Beth had swapped her serious mum look for something a little more playful.

“How about we grab some chocolate cake from the cafeteria? Fiirst period definitely calls for that.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Really? The one with the thick icing?”

“Of course.” Beth grinned. “And then we can talk about what you need to keep with you from now on. Maybe get you a little emergency kit for your bag?”

You nodded, feeling the panic from earlier finally ease. “Okay.”

Beth threw an arm around your shoulders again. “That’s my girl. Now, let’s go get you some chocolate before Monkey steals it all.”

When you walked back to the canteen, Leah and Monkey were sitting at a table eating their own lunch. 

Beth kept true to her word, grabbing you a slice of chocolate cake from the cafeteria before leading you out to the car. She sent a quick message to your coach, letting him know she was taking you home early, but she didn’t bring it up again. 

It was a quiet drive home with the radio playing softly in the background. When you pulled into the driveway, Beth turned to you with a small smile. “Mamma should be home. We’ve got a few hours before the little ones get back, so we can just take it easy, yeah?”

You nodded, feeling more tired than you expected. Maybe it was the nerves from earlier finally wearing off.

Beth unlocked the door, and the familiar warmth of home wrapped around you. You barely had time to set your bag down before Viv appeared in the hallway, her brows knitting together as she took you in.

“What are you guys doing home so early?”

You hesitated, glancing at Beth, but she just gave you a reassuring nod. So you took a breath and mumbled, “Got my period.”

Viv’s face softened immediately. “Oh, mijn meisje.” She stepped forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before looking at Beth. “You sorted?”

Beth held up the emergency pouch she’d grabbed earlier. “We’re all good.”

Viv cupped your cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

You shrugged. “I think so.”

Viv smiled, wrapping an arm around you and guiding you toward the living room. “Then I think this calls for a snuggle.”

Beth chuckled, following close behind. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

You barely had time to sit before Viv settled beside you, pulling you into her side, and Beth flopped down on your other side, tossing a blanket over the three of you.

“Can I get you anything? We’ve got a bit of time before the little ones bring the chaos with them.” Viv asked you. 

“Maybe a hot chocolate?” You said after a moment of thinking. 

Viv nodded, “Of course, one hot chocolate, with marshmallows obviously, coming right up. 

As Viv disappeared into the kitchen, Beth turned to you, “Disney movie?” You nodded. “Tangled?” To which you nodded again, “How could I have guessed, huh?”

Beth chuckled as she grabbed the remote, flicking through the streaming apps until she found Tangled. She knew you’d watched it a hundred times, but that never stopped you from watching it again. It was your comfort movie, something familiar, something safe.

By the time Viv returned with your hot chocolate, the movie had just started. She handed you the mug carefully, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before sitting back down next to you.

As the movie played on, Beth’s fingers absentmindedly ran through your hair, and Viv rested her head lightly against yours. You weren’t sure when your eyes started getting heavy, but at some point, you let yourself drift off, warm and safe between your mums.

Whatever had felt scary or overwhelming earlier didn’t seem so bad anymore.

[luffydotcom]

oblivious

synopsis: you're oblivious to their feelings for you, and they have to do something about it! feat: luffy, zoro, sanji (monster trio) warnings: none! notes: two posts in a row?? what?? also, i mainly made this for giggles, sanji's part especially was killing me to write helpp 💀

luffy

luffy doesn't feel the need to explain his love for you. because in his eyes, you're practically already together. he wants not just to protect you, but to wrap his arms around you, laugh with you, hold you close, and always be by your side, and he does! all the time. shouldn't that be enough to let you know he loves you?

apparently not.

because despite his affections, you never seem to notice that the boy reciprocates your feelings, even when everyone else does. you assume his behaviour is just luffy being luffy, and honestly, it depresses you day after day to think that he doesn't feel the same.

until one afternoon on the ship, the captain approaches you with a cheeky grin on his face.

"hey, do you wanna play hide and seek on the island with me?" his eyes light up with playful excitement as he asks you. "this island is huge! so i wanna play a game with you."

you laugh at luffy's endearing and childish nature, yet you can't help but play along. "sounds fun, but haven't you asked the others if they wanna come too?"

"no, just you." he says plainly.

"what? that's odd." you're utterly rattled as to why luffy would want to spend time with just you only. not that you never have alone time with him - luffy often comes to you when he's bored and wants to pass time on slow days on the ship, but he normally does so without asking.

even more confusing for you, especially for games, he would always ask usopp or chopper to join in, yet they're nowhere to be seen. in fact, it's just now you realise that you're the only two on the deck.

"well you know, if it's just us, it feels much more like a date doesn't it? than asking everybody else." luffy chuckles and your mind practically shuts down trying to register what he's just said.

like a date.

"luffy... what did you just say?" you freeze, uncertain if you've even heard his words properly, because surely... there's no way.

"i said it would feel much more like a date. we like each other, don't we?" luffy says matter-of-factly like it's absolutely no big deal, before noticing your expression. "what? what's wrong?"

you stand in stunned silence, at a loss for words at the sheer coolness of him basically admitting his feelings for you like it's nothing at all. "you... like me? as in... romantically?"

"well yeah, i thought we were together?"

"WHAT?"

"wait, what's the matter? do you not want to be together anymore?"

"no, it's..." you could almost clutch your chest at how fast your heart is racing, overwhelmed at the realisation that luffy likes you, but even more that he thought you were dating the whole time. "i didn't even know you saw our relationship in that way... or that you had feelings for me."

"WHAT? seriously?" luffy throws his head back laughing, although not to mock you, but astounded by your obliviousness. "all this time? i thought you would know how i feel about you without me having to say it!"

"no, i seriously didn't know!" you wave your hands, feeling embarrassed at how unaware you've been. "i thought you like me just as much as everyone else on the crew... i never thought it was any different."

luffy just grins his signature grin at your words, chuckling with his arms folded. "well, how do you feel now that you know it is different?"

you take a moment to think. relief washes over you as you realise you no longer have to pine for him in silence anymore. "well, now that i know... i do feel much better."

"good. so... you still wanna come with me, right?" luffy's eyes sparkle even more than they did when he first asked you.

"yeah yeah, but i'm hiding not seeking... because i've just realised today how easily i can't see things sometimes..." you joke, as you both head off the ship together.

zoro

zoro isn't one to make his feelings for you overtly obvious, but he thought you should have at least got the hint by now.

no matter how subtle he is in displaying his feelings: being more protective over you in battle, sitting next to you at mealtimes, keeping a closer eye on you on the ship, it all seems to fall right under your nose. and quite frankly, it frustrates him.

he isn't sure what more he needs to do to let you know how he feels. his subtlety can only go so far - and it's as if no progress is being made.

so now he has no choice but to put it to you in the most obvious way he feels he can - by confronting you.

"hey," zoro catches you as you're leaving the kitchen after lunch. "we need to talk."

your heart stops at his serious tone. "it's not something bad, is it?"

"no, it's not, but... it's something important." he says firmly, as you're left to wonder what he possibly wants to tell you. he clears his throat before speaking. "haven't you noticed anything... new lately?" he folds his arms.

"about... what, exactly?"

"about me. about us?"

your brows furrow. "what? what do you mean?"

he sighs, realising he needs to be more clear. "i mean, haven't you maybe noticed that i've been acting... different towards you lately?"

you pause, reflecting over zoro's recent behaviour with you on the ship to search for anything different or new. come to think of it, he has been acting a little... closer to you lately, but you don't think much of it. he's just being a good crewmate, as much as it hurts to believe.

"not that i can remember," you shake your head.

zoro has to fight the urge to not pop a blood vessel at your obliviousness. how much more obvious does he need to make this? "seriously? nothing comes to mind? nothing? after everything i've done?"

now you're beyond puzzled. "what's this even about? done what? i don't understand what you're getting at."

zoro tightens his fists. every attempt to get through to you is just proving more and more futile. surely from the way the conversation has been going, you would understand what he's trying to tell you by now - but it's hopeless. "you know what, just - never mind."

but as zoro turns to walk away and leave, you grab his shoulder. "wait, no, carry on - i want to know. just tell me what this is about."

eyes falling to your hand on him, zoro realises he just can't beat around the bush with you. it's now or never. he has to put it in the only way you'll understand.

avoiding your eyes, he glances away, and you're almost certain you see him blush slightly if just for a second. "…i like you, you idiot. i don't know how much more obvious i need to be."

you've lost all ability to think as the weight of his words hit you all at once. "w-what? since when -"

"since ages," he says, finally looking at you. "but it's like no matter what i do, you just never seem to notice. seriously, do you not see how oblivious you are?"

suddenly, the dots start connecting in your mind as it starts to all slowly make sense. the signs were always there. sure, they were subtle, but they were there - with every action zoro has done for you lately. you just refused to paint it as romantic. "i guess i just... didn't want to get my hopes up in case you didn't have feelings for me too."

zoro fights a smile as he realises what you've just said, but he tries to play it cool. "so, you're saying..."

before he can finish, you put your arms around him in a close hug. "yes, i like you too. and i'm sorry that i didn't notice your feelings for me sooner. i just couldn't be too sure."

zoro lifts his hand up to stroke the top of your head. he's not mad, but relieved. "it's alright. i'm just glad you know now."

sanji

sanji has been making his feelings for you as clear as day: constantly showering you with praise and compliments, adding extra touches to your food; he's even been paying much more attention to you than nami and robin. hence why he's so confused as to why you're not noticing!

it's just that with every act of affection he's been doing lately, you seem to rule it out as just sanji being sanji - and he can't exactly blame you either. he is known for his affectionate nature, but he can't seem to understand how you can't see how overt and over-the-top he is when it comes to you specifically.

one evening after dinner, you find him sulking in the kitchen as he washes the dishes.

"sanji? is something wrong?", you approach him, wondering what has him so distraught. "you look pretty depressed..."

"it's nothing, dear," he looks at you, trying a smile, but then, "well... actually... there is kind of something."

"oh? i'm all ears, just tell me," you say, looking more serious than before.

there is a moment of silence as you wait for him to tell you what's troubling him, and for a moment he actually looks calm. until -

"WHY WON'T YOU NOTICE HOW MUCH I LIKE YOU?? I JUST DON'T GET IT!" he drops the plate he was washing in the sink and cries into his sleeve.

you're so taken aback by his sudden (and dramatic) outcry that you have to take a small step back. but then you actually realise what he's just said.

"wait - YOU LIKE ME? AS IN -"

"YES, LIKE THAT!" he looks at you with tears falling down his cheeks. "I'VE MADE IT SO OBVIOUS! I COMPLIMENT YOU ALMOST EVERY HOUR OF THE DAY, I HOLD YOUR HAND WHEN YOU'RE STEPPING OFF THE SHIP-"

"wait, sanji-"

"-I EVEN PUT HEART-SHAPED CANDIES IN YOUR LUNCH BOX! AND ONE OF THEM QUITE LITERALLY SAID 'I love you' ON IT!"

"WHAT? NO WAY. i ate them without even reading them..." you look away sheepishly. "sanji... i truly had no idea you felt that way about me, and i mean it. honestly, even if i did see, i thought you would've done the same for nami or robin."

sanji wipes away some of his tears, now shyly struggling to meet your eyes. "i guess so, but... it really is different with you, i promise."

"no no, i believe you," you give his arm a small squeeze. "and i'm relieved because i feel the same way." it feels like a risk, but you kiss his cheek.

he practically short-circuits, not even sure how to form words at first. "...you don't know how long i've waited to experience that," he takes your hand. "and i mean literally. i was losing hope with how oblivious you are."

"well, the wait's over now, so no need to worry." you smile warmly and he smiles back.

© luffydotcom

[piastriheart]

sweetheart. op81.

summary: the story of brigitte camden’s relationship with oscar piastri, starting from year 6 of primary school (2013) to graduation (2019).

warnings: nsfw — mdni.

genre & tropes: fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers, slow burn.

word count: 5.1k.

song: ♪ “ i wanna be yours ” / arctic monkeys.

Year 6.

I stood outside the ivy-covered walls of the Academy, watching as my mother’s familiar gray Camry faded into the distance. I wanted so desperately for her to come back, and tell me that everything had been a dream, a mistake. Our sudden move from Sydney to Melbourne had uprooted the life I had built for myself. No more shared tickets for events at the Opera House, no more running around the Royal Botanic Gardens with my friends. These treasured moments would all fade into a distant memory, and I was forced to pretend like I was OK with it, when in reality, all I wanted to do was scream and throw a temper tantrum as if I were a little child.

My heart pounded in my ears, a staccato drumbeat that made my head spin with dizziness. I was in uncharted territory, with no one to cling onto. I knew nobody here, and even though my parents had comforted me, telling me that it would all solve itself out, that I was magnetic and charming so everyone would instantly become my friend, I was starting to suspect that the opposite was true.

Dozens of other students had passed by me, chattering about their teachers and events that had happened over the past weekend. They all ignored me. I was invisible. I could disappear right now, and no one would notice, save for the teachers who completed attendance.

I tugged at a loose strand of my hair, a nervous tic I had never been able to break, no matter how hard I tried to resist it. I checked my watch, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for the bell to ring, signifying the start of passing time, when everyone would rush to their classes. Maybe I could find someone heading the same way as me and befriend them? It was a small flicker of hope, but it was enough to illuminate the darkness that was plaguing me.

Someone walked by me, and I waited for them to disregard me, the same way that everyone else had. I turned my face away. But instead, I listened to their footsteps halt, and I heard them say, “Are you lost?”

I flushed red and stammered, “No, I was waiting for the bell, I’m not…” I angled my gaze up to meet the eyes of the person who was talking to me. It was a boy, around my age, with freckles and moles dotting his pale skin and floppy brown hair that refused to lie flat. “I’m sorry, I’m new here, so I wasn’t sure what the right protocol was. At my old school, we waited outside the gates before classes started, and then we were let in. But it looks like it’s different here.”

The boy nodded his head, appraising me. I was desperate to befriend him, even though I’d just met him moments before. “I understand. I just moved here at the start of the year, too.”

“So…” I twisted my lips, unsure of what to say.

He smiled at me, a display of amiableness. “I’m Oscar.”

“Brigitte,” I replied. At that moment, a great swell of relief and gratitude flooded me. I was so thankful for this random boy, someone I had only exchanged a handful of words with. I was sure that if we didn’t have classes together, I would die, solely because he was trying to help me when everyone else was so eager to watch me struggle. “What’s your first class?”

“Mathematics with Professor McCullough,” he informed me, and I grinned – the first real smile since I’d moved to Melbourne. “You? I’m assuming the same?”

I tilted my head up and down like a bobblehead. “Yes.”

“Great. Then let’s go together. We don’t want to be late.” Oscar motioned for me to follow him inside the school, and I trailed behind him as he wove through the halls. Everything looked the same, from the glossy ceiling to the floor tiles. Even some of the paintings and trophy cabinets were identical. It would take weeks for me to memorize everything, and once again, I felt a surge of appreciation that Oscar was my guide.

He finally stopped in front of a nondescript door. The only telltale sign that it was a classroom was the sheet of laminated paper on the wall beside it, stating, “Professor McCullough, Mathematics (Geometry) Year 6.”

Oscar opened the door for me, ushering me in first. “I sit over here.” He headed to his desk, but I waited, hesitant to accompany him in case he didn’t want me to. “There’s an empty seat beside me. Come on, Brigitte.”

I sat down beside him, placing my backpack on the floor beside the chair. “I’m so nervous,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

Oscar frowned, somehow catching what I had uttered. He had ears like a bat; they could hear everything. “You’ll be fine.”

I sighed, annoyed that he had repeated the same weary line the adults had. They thought they knew so much just because they were older, experienced more things than I had, but they didn’t realize that I was so out of my depth. I wasn’t them. I didn’t have their set of skills or talents. Nobody knew, except for maybe God, if I would be fine.

The bell rang harshly, and I jolted in my seat, taken by surprise. Oscar chuckled, but didn’t say anything. Professor McCullough entered moments later, his posture stooped over as if he were the Hunchback of Notre Dame. His white hair crowded on his head in tufts, watery eyes obscured by thick black lenses. When he spoke, it was at a dull, monotone hum. I was wide awake from adrenaline coursing through my veins, but his voice was a spell in itself, and I found myself having to ward off sleep as he droned on about geometric shapes.

Oscar jotted down some notes on the paper beside him, and I rushed to catch up, looking over my shoulder to see what he had written down so I wouldn’t miss anything. When I looked back at the board again a few moments later, everything had been erased, and Professor McCullough had started on a new problem.

I sucked in a breath, panic slowly making its way through my body. Back in Sydney, we were still working on algebra. I barely knew anything about geometry, and the professor was moving through everything so quickly. It was embarrassing, and I felt hot tears spring to my eyes as I watched the professor begin another question before I had even solved the first one.

After class ended, Oscar waited until I packed up my things before exiting the room. “Everything alright?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. I avoided meeting his eyes. “You look upset.”

I swallowed roughly, not trusting myself enough to respond without crying.

“If you don’t have the notes, or don’t understand something, you can ask me. I want to be an engineer, so I’m good at maths.” Oscar gave me a smile. “I know Professor McCullough moves fast. It was a lot, especially for your first day. Have you ever done anything with geometry before?”

I shook my head, forcing back the tears that threatened to flow. My first day, and I was already on the verge of breaking down. This must be a world record. “Nope,” I whispered, ashamed.

“I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” Oscar promised. “What’s your second class?”

I reached for the timetable that was in my pocket with shaky fingers, and read aloud, “Professor Reilly, World History.”

Oscar pumped his fist excitedly. “We have that together.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe it. Two classes with him — it was a miracle.

“For real,” he whooped, and I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound pealing off the walls and sounding bright, even to my melancholy self.

The rest of the year, and the transition to my new life in Melbourne, went much smoother with Oscar by my side. He introduced me to his friends, Isaac and Nathaniel, who integrated me rapidly into their group like I was always one of them. When I went to Oscar’s house for the first time, I met Hattie, his younger sister, and we hit it off immediately. Her quick retorts and witty comments had me laughing until I truly thought my sides would split.

Oscar wasn’t exactly a man of many words, but even in the silence between our conversations, I always knew he was there for me. We spent a lot of time together, even outside of school. He brought me to his favorite ice cream shop, and I ordered the best red velvet and caramel sundae I’d ever tasted in my life. We went to the zoo, and I joked that he looked just like one of the koalas that was clinging to a eucalyptus tree. Adding to the joke, he bought me a koala stuffed animal, and I nicknamed it “Osc”.

My parents met Oscar a month after we had met, and they told him how pleased they were that he had befriended me. In response, Oscar said, “It wasn’t out of obligation or duty. I just wanted to.”

Once school had let out for summer break in December, Oscar invited me to his second house in Adelaide, where we spent the weeks tanning on the sunny stretches of beach and building elaborate sandcastles, weeping together theatrically when the tide would wash over them.

Lying beside each other on the recliners we rented for the beach, I confessed, “I don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve made my life so much better by being a part of it.”

Oscar turned his head to me, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I agree. I thought something was missing before, but then I met you, and now I feel complete.”

Year 7.

I eagerly awaited the arrival of the next school year’s timetable, ripping the envelope open loudly over the dining table. Oscar stood next to me, a letter opener gripped in his hands. “Ready?” he inquired, a tremble present in his voice.

“Ready,” I confirmed, and we both unfolded the sheets, skimming over them at the same time. We exchanged them a second later, recognizing some of the same names and times. “We have first, third, and sixth together.”

Oscar hummed in approval. “That’s not so bad. It’s half the day.”

“Yeah.”

Oscar examined his sheet again. “I heard Professor Smith is a bore.”

“Shame. But at least we have it together,” I reminded him, a wide grin splitting my face. “OK, now that that’s over, want to rewatch Frozen with me?” Even though it was meant for little children, I loved all the songs. Oscar, trying to act macho and cool, pretended he didn’t, but I caught him humming the lyrics to Let it Go once before. I would never let him forget it.

Oscar sighed, continuing his fake act of disliking the film. “Sure,” he relented finally, throwing his hands up in the air in mock-surrender.

“Yay!” I cheered happily, and he chuckled.

Year 8.

Oscar was absent the first week back from summer break; he had caught some sort of flu that was contagious. I hated going to school without him, my classes felt unbearably boring and time seemed to pass extra slowly. Worst of all was the fact that a lot of my social life revolved around him. Oscar wasn’t an extrovert, but his calming energy allowed him to create his own tight-knit group. Those who weren’t in it still gravitated towards him. Without him, I had to find people on my own, something I’d always found daunting.

“Brigitte, Brigitte!” A group of girls chirped from a nearly full lunch table. Charlotte, a girl with bouncy brown hair and flawless makeup like a model, waved at me. “Come sit with us!”

I pushed back emotions of unease and distrust that prickled at me. Just because Oscar didn’t spend much time with them didn’t mean they weren’t good people. I didn’t interact with them much, but from what I was aware of, they were nice. It was time for me to leave the nest, and this was my first trial.

“Hi,” I said, setting down my lunch box and taking a spot next to Charlotte.

Georgiana, her right-hand woman, giggled as she looked me up and down. I had the sensation that I was being criticized in her mind, all of my flaws pointed out and made fun of, and the urge to escape overtook me. “Do you know why Oscar’s not here?”

“Um, he’s sick,” I offered lamely.

Charlotte made a noise under her breath. “I heard he has mono.”

I raised an eyebrow quizzically, unable to identify what that word was.

“Like the sickness? You get it from kissing?” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she waited for me to recognize the term.

Kissing. My face heated up, and I abruptly dropped my gaze to the turkey sandwich waiting to be eaten in front of me. “I haven’t… I don’t know anything about that.”

Charlotte and her clique sighed dramatically, like I should be sorry. “You’re meaning to tell me that neither one of you has…You know, kissed?”

I wanted to shrink into my clothes and disappear, I was so mortified. Why were these girls asking me about such a private topic? Also, wasn’t it obvious that Oscar and I were nothing more than friends? They had to be joking. There was no other option. “We’ve never…We’re not like that.”

“You have to be lying,” Georgiana chastised, her blue eyes wide. “There’s no way you two haven’t made out yet. Tell me, is he a good kisser? I bet he is. He looks like he knows how to kiss a girl right. Andy Bellingham doesn’t.” She scoffed, crossing her arms.

I yanked a lock of my hair, the tic coming back to me instinctively as the girls waited for me to respond. I was failing horribly at whatever test they were putting me through, and I had no clue what to do. “We’re thirteen. I don’t know why anyone would be rushing to do all of that.”

“Well,” Charlotte clucked. “If that’s true, then it’s a damn shame. Oscar is one fine specimen.”

When Oscar returned to school the next week, I could barely talk to him. It wasn’t intentional, the cold shoulder I was giving him, I simply couldn’t shake off the conversation I had with Charlotte, Georgiana, and the other girls. I’d never imagined Oscar in a romantic way; sure, I knew at one point both of us would have significant others, but I’d never thought of us being a couple. He was my best friend, the person I told every secret to and fell asleep talking to on the phone.

But what if he could be more than just a confidant?

Year 9.

Oscar and I were growing up, and it was obvious to everyone, including ourselves. Charlotte and Georgiana were just the start of the insanity that would commence. With the start of ninth year, the both of us had to fend off accusations that we were “engaged in romantic activities” at least once per week. It was exhausting.

It was a struggle denying the rumors when there were no feelings attached to Oscar, when we were solely platonic friends. But something had changed between the two of us; the air was charged, and I felt myself growing more and more attracted to him. I found myself admiring his physique in gym class, or memorizing all the moles on his face. I knew it was only a matter of time before my feelings grew too much to bear, and I was terrified at the thought of losing him.

I was at Oscar’s home, grabbing myself a fresh glass of water, when Hattie intercepted me. “I know you too well,” she began, “So don’t even think about lying.”

Despite the fact that I knew I’d done nothing wrong, my palms grew sweaty and I felt faint. I was about to be accused of a false crime, and I’d be thrown out of the house, disgraced forever —

“You have a crush on Oscar.”

I blinked twice, confused. “What?”

“Don’t deny it.”

I regained my composure, trying to formulate a reply. “Oscar and I are just friends. That’s it.”

Hattie rolled her eyes and scowled at me. “I see the way you look at each other. With heart eyes. It’s as if no one in the world exists but you two.”

“That’s not true,” I protested, but deep down, I knew it was. Oscar was so magnetic, it was obnoxious. I wished every day that I had his allure.

“You should tell him,” Hattie prattled on like she hadn’t heard what I said.

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“You’ll be shooting yourself in the foot, then, because he likes you too.”

I ignored her, writing it off as sisterly wisecracking. It was much easier for me to pretend that the relationship between Oscar and I was the same, and it hadn’t changed at all since we’d met each other at the front gates of the Academy, all those years ago.

Year 10.

For the summer, I was invited again to the house in Adelaide. I was looking forward to the hours spent in each others’ company. Since Hattie’s revelation, I had slowly drifted away from Oscar, unwilling to give him any extra reason to leave me. In my mind, I thought that if I left first, I couldn’t get hurt. Yet, Oscar refused to let me go. He still texted me nightly, crafting plans to hang out. An invisible knife twisted in my gut every time I turned them down.

Oscar was easily the most good looking boy in our grade. He was effortlessly cool, and kind, and didn’t show off like the other boys in our year. I had already heard a few girls who were crushing on him, fawning over how attractive he was. They didn’t know him like I did, and I wanted to yell at them. He’s not just a pretty face.

I could kid myself all I wanted, though, because Oscar didn’t belong to me. He wasn’t my property, I didn’t have some sort of stake on him. He was on the market. Any girl could have him if she was brave enough to make the move, even if I so desperately wanted to call him mine.

I knocked on Oscar’s bedroom door, rocking from side to side impatiently. “I’m going to the beach in five minutes. Are you almost ready?” I called.

No response.

“Oscar?” I repeated, louder. Panic threaded through my voice. Maybe he’d fallen, and couldn’t yell for help. Seconds passed, and he still didn’t answer. I cracked the door open, and I saw him, lying on the bed, spread-eagled.

He wasn’t wearing anything, save for a pair of black boxers. Instead of being repulsed, instead of turning away, I eagerly devoured every inch of visible skin, frozen in place. The flat planes of his stomach, the strong muscles of his legs.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes still closed.

I jolted out of my stupor, shutting the door, struck dumb. Oscar was built like a Greek god. Holy shit.

I forced myself to swallow and erase the image that was dancing behind my eyelids. I had to pretend like I hadn’t seen anything. That everything was normal.

Arousal curled in my gut, and I let out a loose breath. Getting laid wasn’t worth it if it destroyed a years-long friendship with someone I valued deeply. Simplifying Oscar down to his looks was something the girls in our year did that I despised, but after seeing him, in all his glory, it was difficult not to do the same.

He was beautiful.

And I was falling for him, hard.

That same year was our first dance. We were finally mature enough to handle “the responsibilities that come with such a prestigious event”, even though it would be held in the Academy’s gymnasium, not at the Ritz-Carlton. I was going to attend the event with my female friends, and meet up with Oscar later. We weren’t each other’s dates. We still hadn’t crossed that boundary, between friends and more, and it was slowly eating me up inside. Every little thing Oscar did was catalogued in my mind, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I talked about him so much to my mother that she grew suspicious, thinking I was in an illicit, secret relationship with him. The opposite was true; we were still painfully, just friends.

“Just friends” was what I had to repeat, over and over, like a mantra, to myself. Every time I looked at Oscar, and our gaze held for a moment longer than it was supposed to. Every time he remembered a small detail about myself – the street I used to live on in Sydney, or called me “Bridge”, or bought me my favorite soda in the cafeteria.

It would have been too easy to delude myself that he shared the same feelings that I had for him. Neither of us were willing to confess, which left me in a sticky situation when a girl in the year below us asked him out for the dance.

I was there. I watched it happen, how she left her lunch table and sashayed (for lack of better words, because what else do you call that undulating movement girls do when they walk?) over to him. She ignored me, giving him a wide smile that was ten megawatts too bright. She introduced herself, because Oscar didn’t recognize her. Later, my friend told me that she was his lab partner in Chemistry, and somehow, he hadn’t committed her to his memory. When she asked him out, she did it bashfully, but confidently enough that it seemed inevitable that he would say yes.

I busied myself by collecting my leftover lunch scraps, not looking at Oscar. It was his decision to make. I wouldn’t penalize him for that.

“I’m sorry, I’m already going with someone,” he finally said after a few moments.

The girl’s carefully tweezed eyebrows shot up in shock. She wasn’t expecting him to respond in that manner. I wasn’t either, and I almost dropped my water bottle as I tried to take a sip from it while acting nonchalant.

Accepting defeat, the girl gave him another smile, but it was fake. “That’s alright. If she cancels, let me know.” She turned tail, her shoes clicking across the floor, leaving Oscar and I alone.

I didn’t bring it up again, and I could tell Oscar was grateful for that small mercy. We both knew the “other date” was a ruse, meant to buy time. I felt it like stones pressing against my chest.

I vowed not to give in, even if it killed me.

Year 11.

“Brigitte.”

The sharp sound of Oscar’s voice made me jump. “Yes?”

“Have you been listening at all to what I’m saying?” Oscar asked exasperatedly, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

I flushed crimson, looking down at my newly painted nails. They were dark purple. Oscar had chosen the color, because I was too indecisive for my own good. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Everything OK?” he tilted his head in concern, scanning my features for any signs of distress. “You’ve been more distant. Did I do something?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Everything’s OK.”

“You’re lying. I know there has to be something. Hattie’s been bugging me all week long to say something.” The tips of Oscar’s ears turned red. “I don’t exactly know what she means, but maybe you do?”

I bit my lip, mulling over all possible choices. Hattie had been more persistent these past weeks, constantly pestering me to confess to Oscar. I could act stupid, and say I didn’t know what she meant. Or I could take a leap of faith. “It’s something about us, but she’s vague about it. She thinks she knows everything.”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair. “She’s such a nosy Nellie,” he bit out.

“Well, is there something between us?” I ventured cautiously.

His jaw flexed. “Do you want there to be something between us?”

“Stop answering my questions with other questions,” I huffed, and Oscar laughed. He pulled me close to him in a big bear hug.

In my ear, he murmured, “I do want more.”

“More of what?” My words came out as light as the breeze.

“More of you. I want all of you.”

And then he kissed me, in the middle of his living room while a news station droned in the background, rain drumming on the windows outside. Everything was blotted out until it was just us, our lips and our souls connected.

Year 12.

It had been almost a year since Oscar and I started dating. I was so relieved at finally confessing my feelings that I felt almost weightless, like nothing could ever take me down. Oscar was mine, and I was his. It was as simple as that.

Oscar kissed the top of my forehead before the start of class. I was about to take a big exam for my maths class, and I was extremely anxious. “You’ll be fine, Brigitte,” he promised. “I’ll be waiting for you after, and you can tell me all about it.”

“OK,” I said.

“I believe in you, baby.” He kissed me again tenderly, and I forced myself to break apart from him.

I gave him a smile that hid how nervous I was. “We’re going to get in trouble for PDA.”

“So be it,” he teased. “It’s worth it.”

I rolled my eyes. “See you later, smooth talker.”

An hour later, Oscar was waiting for me in the exact spot he had said. “How was it, gorgeous?” he asked as he walked beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to him.

“It was something.”

He chuckled. “Any other details you wish to impart, or is that it, Bridge? You were making it so suspenseful, and I feel let down.”

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I don’t want to think about it, that’s all.”

Oscar made a noise under his breath. “Yeah, I get it. When do you get your marks back?”

“Probably by the end of the week,” I mused, dreading the day that the paper would be returned to my desk. My mother was going to kill me if I did badly, and I was certain that I’d barely scraped a passing grade.

Oscar threaded his fingers through mine. “We can look together.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Are you free to hang out this weekend?” Oscar inquired. “I have a competition, and I want you to be there.” Oscar was a rising star in the karting world, and I had attended two or three of his races before. As much as the speed and thrill excited me, I was too scared of something bad occurring, so I kept my appearances limited for my health — and sanity.

I thought for a second, and said, “Yeah, I’d like to come.”

“Good. I was worried you’d say no.”

“How could I?” I gasped, mock-offended. “You’re my perfect racer boyfriend. How could I ever say no?”

Oscar laughed, and nudged me on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re aware.”

After.

I couldn’t believe that we had graduated secondary school and that we were on our way to the real world. I was applying to university in Europe so I could be closer to Oscar as he rose through the ranks of the motorsports world. Walking across that stage, seeing Oscar and my family clap for me, I felt so proud. I was so lost when I had originally moved to Melbourne, but Oscar had helped me through it. I had found my person, my soulmate.

Maybe the move hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

Once the celebrations had concluded, Oscar and I were alone in his bedroom. My parents were already home, and his parents were drinking wine in the kitchen. Hattie was upstairs, reading a book. We wouldn’t be interrupted. “Are you sure you want this?” he repeated again nervously. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries.”

“You’re not,” I assured him.

“Good.”

My blouse was unbuttoned in one flourish, and I bared myself to Oscar. I held my breath, waiting for him to decide what to do next. “You’re so fucking stunning,” he said, his voice nearly a growl.

“I…” I stifled my protests as he bit me softly on the neck, bunny teeth leaving indents in the soft flesh. “Oscar…”

He paused, meeting my eyes to ensure that he was OK to continue. “You’re so fucking stunning, my God.”

“Not God, just Brigitte,” I jested breathlessly, and he nipped at the hollow of my throat. “Please go faster. You’re killing me.”

Oscar made a purring sound. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He obeyed, unbuttoning his own shirt and loosening the belt on his pants. Moving on, he swished my skirt down and let it pool on the floor. Both of us were left in nothing but our underthings.

In one fluid motion, he lifted me up and placed me on the bed, spreading me carefully below him. His arm muscles flexed as he caged me in, his breath hot against my skin as he began to pepper kisses again on my body. “I need to grab a condom. Then we can have sex.”

I whimpered loudly as he pulled away, walking over to the bathroom. I heard the plastic crinkle of a condom wrapper opening, and soon Oscar was in my line of view again.

“Ready?” he waited for confirmation.

I inclined my head. “I’ve been ready.”

He positioned himself on top once more, his body perfectly molded against mine. Oscar kissed my cheek as he removed my panties, tossing them off the bed to the already messy floor. “I love you, Brigitte. So fucking much. Since year 6, you’ve been mine. Only mine.”

“Yes,” I moaned slightly as he entered me, his length stretching inside of me. “I love you too.”

Oscar groaned, his head falling forward as he moved languidly. “You feel so perfect. Like you’re made for me.” He kissed me forcefully on the lips. “I’m so fucking addicted to you.”

“I’m glad,” I teased. “But it goes both ways.”

He grinned, teeth biting at my collarbones. I felt like I could have come undone at any second as Oscar’s heat penetrated my body. I was in heaven, and this was my reward for my years of patience.

“You’re the love of my life. My sweetheart, my Brigitte.”

The End. ♡

©⠀piastriheart, 25’. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or reproduce my work in any form without my permission.

[justarkive]

THROUGH THE SMOKE | JJK

“You fell for Jeon Jungkook first, but he fell for bad habits harder.”

pairing: non!idol jungkook x f!reader

genre: est. relationship, angst, slight fluff, feeling sad today guys :( no smut today guys sorry for my freaks xoxo

warnings; death, smoking, bad habits, feels, super emotional reader.

this fic does not represent the real jungkook!

a/n: im very sorry for this yall but i read when she loved me and couldnt help but write something sad aswell. anyways! enjoy and grab a tissue lmaoo. (also for table 3 readers dw im cooking up ch10 just wanted to get this idea off of my mind loll)

wc: idk yall sorry but its short.

masterlist

You and Jungkook had been in love since preschool.

It wasn’t a cliché love story, even though it sounded like one. From the moment you met, you knew there was something undeniable between you two. Jungkook was the cute boy with the bright, innocent smile, a little too shy at first, his hair always sticking up in the most adorable way. You, on the other hand, were always loud, energetic, and full of questions. But somehow, as if the universe had arranged it, you two had been inseparable ever since.

It was your families who first brought you together, and it didn’t take long for the connection to grow. You both laughed at the same silly things, shared the same strange sense of humor, and understood each other in ways no one else could. School passed, and so did life’s little moments. From coloring in the back of the classroom to sneaking kisses behind the library, you knew him better than you knew yourself. Everyone always said, “You two will be the ones who never change, who stick together forever,” and in your naive, young hearts, you believed them.

High school came, and it was no different. You both walked the same halls, your fingers intertwined as if they had always been meant to fit together. Your friends all knew about your love, some teasing, others a little envious of how easy it seemed for you two. He was your first everything. Your first kiss. Your first date. The first person who truly saw you, all of you, and still stayed. You couldn’t have asked for more.

You were both passionate about art. You, with your paintbrushes, your sketchbooks, your endless love for creating. Jungkook with his camera, always snapping photos of the world around him, capturing everything with that beautiful perspective only he had. You spent hours together, creating things that were uniquely yours. You painted while he took photos of your work, and when you weren’t working on your art, you would lie together, talking about dreams, the future, the things you hoped for. You’d talk for hours until the world outside seemed irrelevant.

At sixteen, you finally admitted it—finally let the world know that you were a couple. Not that anyone had to guess. It was obvious. Your love was like the air, filling every room, every space between you two, unspoken yet constantly present.

But then, Jungkook started smoking.

Things started to change, slowly at first. It started with little things. Jungkook would come to see you, and the smell of cigarettes would linger on his clothes. At first, it didn’t bother you — he was just blowing off steam, right? Everyone had their way of coping. But then it started to be more than just an occasional puff. You’d find him lighting up in the car, after a tough day, or even while you both worked late into the night. He’d laugh it off, saying it helped him focus, that it was nothing serious. You’d tease him, roll your eyes, and tell him it would be the death of him. He’d smile that charming, lopsided smile and promise that he’d quit — but the promises always fell short.

And you loved him too much to force him to stop. You were happy, and for a while, you convinced yourself that the cigarette butts scattered in the ashtray were just a phase. It wasn’t until his health began to deteriorate that the reality hit you like a slap in the face. His coughing fits, the sudden weight loss, the way he could barely catch his breath after a short walk — it wasn’t just stress anymore. It was something serious. You didn’t want to face it. You never did. But deep down, you knew what was happening. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud.

Now, here you were, sitting by his side in the sterile, lifeless hospital room. The machines beeped softly in the background, a constant reminder of how little time you had left.The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint smell of his cigarette-laced skin, the smell you had once loved but now felt suffocating. His once-strong body, built from years of his obsession with the gym, was now frail, his skin pale and paper-thin. His hair, once the soft, dark brown you used to run your fingers through, was now thinning. And his eyes — they were no longer the bright, big, mischievous eyes that always seemed to sparkle with some kind of hidden joke. Now, they were tired, drained.

Jungkook, at the young age of 26, was dying. He wasn’t the same boy who made you laugh in high school, the one who would spend hours talking about his dreams of traveling the world with his camera. The once vibrant, lively man you knew had become a shadow, a husk of himself, barely able to move, his breathing shallow, his eyes flickering with exhaustion.

You couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. He wasn’t supposed to go before you, you’d always joked.

“I’ll get you out of here,” you said, your voice trembling, more to reassure yourself than him. “We’ll go to my house, and I’ll finish that painting we were talking about. We’ll make our own gallery. You’ll take the photos for it.”

He didn’t answer at first, just stared at you with those tired, loving eyes, and you could feel the lump in your throat grow. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. He reached up slowly, his hand trembling as he traced your face, a gesture so familiar it made your heart ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, tracing his features in return, your fingertips lingering on his tattoos, the ones you had helped design. His arm was covered in them—symbols of your shared memories. You remembered the flutter in your stomach when he asked you to help him design the first one. You had laughed at the idea at first but had spent nights sketching together, dreaming about the future you would share.

But now, the future seemed so far away, like a distant dream you were never going to wake up from.

“I love you so much, Jungkook,” you whispered, feeling the tears start to fall despite your best efforts to hold them back. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Jungkook could barely talk now, his breaths shallow and labored, but you didn’t care. You filled the silence with words, words he couldn’t hear, but words you needed to say anyway. You talked about everything—the future, what you’d do when he got better, when this was all just a bad dream. You didn’t care if he couldn’t respond. You wanted to believe it, to believe that this wasn’t real, that this wasn’t how your story ended.

“We were going to get an apartment together, remember?” You chuckle lightly, a shaky sound that doesn’t reach your eyes. “And we were going to take that road trip across the country, go to those art galleries we always wanted to see… We were going to be fine, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t respond, but you see his lips twitch slightly, and for a second, you think you imagined it. He always hated when you cried, when you got too emotional. He’d hold you, tease you, tell you to pull yourself together. But not now. Now, he let you talk, let you believe in the dream you wanted so badly to keep alive.

Your fingers graze his lip ring, the one you’d convinced him to get. You laugh softly, though the sound is broken, fragile. “I remember when you asked me to help you pick that out. You were so nervous about it. ‘What if it doesn’t look good?’ you kept asking. And now it’s… part of you.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, and maybe he’s too tired, too weak to respond. But you keep going, keep talking, as if every word you say could somehow delay the inevitable. As if you could make the universe listen.

“I thought we’d grow old together, you know? We’d be that couple, the one who never let go. You were supposed to be my forever.”

The night passes slowly. You sit beside him, never leaving his side. You trace every inch of his face, memorizing the way he looks right now, in this moment, in case it’s the last time you see him like this.

Jungkook kisses your forehead, his lips cold against your skin. “I love you.”

His eyes soften, and he gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if to say he understood, as if to reassure you that it was okay, that he would be okay. But you both knew the truth. He wouldn’t be okay.

You stayed up with him all night, holding his hand, talking about all the things you had planned for your future. Even though you both knew that future was never going to come, you couldn’t stop yourself from dreaming.

His breathing grew more labored as the night went on, and you could feel the coldness of his hand against yours, the warmth slowly slipping away.

“Will we still be able to talk in the morning?” he finally asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He’s tired. You know it. But Jungkook loved you so much he was trying to hold on. Stay up and be with you for his last night.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. What could you say? You knew the answer, but you couldn’t say it aloud. Instead, you squeezed his hand, holding onto him as tightly as you could, hoping that if you just held on, maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

But it wasn’t.

You let him sleep, finally. The exhaustion of his short lived life of bad habits catches up to him, but you couldn’t sleep. Not during this, not while listening to his wheezing while he drifted in and out. Not while feeling his weak arms tighten and loosen around your waist like he’s clutching onto your memory in his dreams. Not while trying to drag out the night as much as you possibly could.

But at some point, you must’ve drifted off to sleep, because when you wake up, it’s morning. The sun is peeking through the blinds, casting soft light across the room. Jungkook’s still here. Still breathing, but not for long.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit up, taking his hand in yours, gripping it tightly, trying to hold on to the person who’s slipping away.

His eyelids flutter, and you lean down close to him. “Please.”

His eyes open briefly, just enough for you to see the smile, faint but there, tugging at his lips. He’s too weak to speak, but you see it. The love. The understanding. The goodbye.

You lean down, pressing your lips against his forehead, and it feels like everything you’ve ever known is shattering.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I always will.”

And then, just like that, the room falls silent.

Jungkook takes his last breath, his hand going limp in yours. And all you could do was sit there, numb, your heart shattered into a million pieces. The love of your life, the one person you had known since childhood, was gone.

Everything had gone wrong.

And all you could do was hold onto the memories—the memories of the boy you had loved since preschool, the boy who had stolen your heart and never given it back.

But now, you were left alone.

You don’t cry out. You don’t scream. You just hold him, even when the nurses come in to the still buzz of the machine, even when they try to pry you off of his lifeless body, knowing that he was finally at peace, and that you would never be the same without him.

[prince-kallisto]

In regards to the Crowley-Raverne theory, theories related to amnesia or memory magic are quite popular: usually revolving around the mask Crowley wears. It does make sense, since it’s such a unique part of his design that is never removed or hardly even mentioned. And now, there’s even more mystery regarding Crowley, as there are question marks for his age, birthday, birth place, and student club. Is it out of mystery? Or does he simply not know himself?

However, there are these particular lines from Book 6 that make me think there’s a different possibility (heavily related to this past Raverne-Styx theory I wrote. Lmao literally just saying the same thing just from a different angle)

How does Idia, and STYX, know so much about how the River Lethe work on fae? Knowledge and certainty of the sciences take countless trials and errors, often from the result of unethical experimentation. STYX as of the modern day is presented as a rather positive and somewhat ethical group, but I don’t believe that’s always been the case with the organization.

What we know: the River Lethe can work on fae as powerful as Malleus Draconia. The Lethe needs to be adjusted for fae. If not, it can erase information that long-lived fae would be expected to know

Did STYX have an incident in the past that tampered with a fae’s memories so much, that it had to change how STYX approached the River Lethe system? Did they accidentally erase the memories of a powerful fae- to the point of erasing his entire identity?

STYX and the Shroud Watchmen have been around since the Age of the Gods- even the Draconia family is well aware of their grand influence. They were around during the Briar Land era. And in the era of the Silver Owl’s, humans from other countries were able to get in through the human ports by Cape Sunrise.

Raverne wasn’t the only fae to disappear to the Eastern Fortress/Citadel to deliver Meleanor’s letter- which is NEAR the coast. Team and after team of envoys disappeared without a trace. Not even a sign of their deaths remained in the land, not a mention from the gloating Silver Owls. Were they kidnapped by a third party?

Wen you look at Book 6’s Phantom enemies, we can see foes referencing ONLY monsters from Hercules, and other villains from unmentioned films like the The Sword in the Stone or Robin Hood. But…? The one exception: soldiers resembling Maleficent’s goons, clad in armor and all. Did these phantoms originate from Briar Land soldiers that STYX kidnapped?

Now that the modern day STYX and the Draconia family are on relatively decent terms, having worked together to quell Malleus’ Overblot, how would this relationship fare if it was discovered that STYX had heinous origins? 👁️👁️ If STYX had tampered with not only one of the Draconia royals, but with Malleus’ father himself? It’s a faint possibility that I’m curious by, because this amicable partnership feels almost too good to be true…

Something else that caught my attention was when General Lilia mentioned both Meleanor and Raverne to us in the dream world. When Grim asks who Meleanor is, Sebek is quite outraged! Everyone should know who Meleanor is as the former princess of Briar Land- despite her passing centuries ago.After all, Sebek has read countless of books about Briar Valley's history! He also mentions his grandfather, Baul, has told him a lot of stories about the war time.

But when Lilia mentions Raverne BY NAME, Yuu and crew assumed he was a separate person from the Draconia family. Raverne's role revealed as the Dragoneye Duke, Malleus' father, and as Meleanor's HUSBAND though...even Sebek looked surprised. Did Baul never tell him? Does almost no one remember who Raverne is 👁️👁️

[dckweed]

tiktok made me do it!gf vs tf 141 boys

You’ve seen the prank all over TikTok—sending song lyrics to your boyfriend over text and seeing how long it takes before he either catches on or panics.

But with your boyfriend? It goes exactly as expected.

(forgot to post this morning)

warnings: elisions to smut, ass smacking, borderline angry bfs.

Captain Price – "talk is cheap”

(Song: Take It On The Run – REO Speedwagon)

You: Heard it from a friend who heard it from another you been messin’ around.

John’s reply comes immediately.

John: …Pardon?

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh.

You: They say you got a boyfriendo, you’re up late every night.

John: Who the hell is “they” and why are they about to get a lesson in not spreading shite about me?

You: Talkin’ about you and it don’t seem right.

John: What the fuck?

You: But I know the neighborhood and talk is cheap.

You stare at your phone, waiting for a reply. Instead, you hear the distant sound of boots stomping down the hall, as if coming from his office not too far away.

You barely have a second to react before Price throws the door open, his expression deadly serious.

"What the fuck is this about?" he demands, holding up his phone.

You freeze. "Uhh…"

He squints at you, chest heaving. "Sweetheart. Tell me this is some kind of joke before I start making some phone calls."

You burst out laughing.

"*Oh my God, babe, it’s a song!"

His eyes narrow. "A song?"

You nod, still wheezing. "REO Speedwagon! Take It On The Run! It’s a prank!"

Silence.

Then—Price lets out the deepest sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ, woman. I thought I was about to go interrogate the whole bloody street."

You snort. "I love that your first instinct was to fight everyone."

Price gives you a look. "You really wanna test my patience right now?"

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You’re so hot when you’re all protective."

He sighs again but kisses you anyway. "Damn woman’s gonna kill me someday."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – "are we fighting?”

(Song: One More Night – Maroon 5)

You were bored, okay? the man left you to go on a run, he’d been gone for nearly an hour by now and you missed him..so what better to do than your favorite pass time of getting on his nerves? There was something your followers had been asking for since the last video you posted with him, and to you, it looked like the perfect opportunity has arisen..

You: You and I go hard at each other like we’re going to war.

Gaz: …What?

You: You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the door.

Gaz: Babe???

You: You and I get so damn dysfunctional, we stopped keeping score.

Silence. Then—

Gaz is calling…

You ignore it. Stay strong.

Gaz: Answer the phone.

Gaz: Right now.

Gaz: BABY.

You: I know I said it a million times…

Gaz: Said WHAT a million times?!?

Then—suddenly, the door to your bedroom bursts open.

Gaz stands in the doorway, wide-eyed and panting. "Are you okay?!"

You stare. "Kyle."

"Baby, what the fuck is going on? Are we fighting? Did I do something? Why are we—*" He stops mid-rant as he sees your phone screen—still on the text chat.

His face drops. "Oh my fucking God."

You lose it, falling onto the bed in hysterics.

"You absolute menace," he groans, rubbing his temples. "I just ran through the entire fucking neighborhood like an idiot."

You wipe away tears of laughter. "I love you so much."

He groans again, flopping onto the bed beside you. "You’re lucky I love you, too."

Simon "Ghost" Riley – “cryptic bullshit”

(Song: Love You Like A Woman – Lana Del Rey)

Simon had been gone all day, off at the base doing routine trainings and whatever else it is that he did (he never really told you his exact job description), he hadn’t texted you since breakfast and you assumed he was busy, but, you couldn’t resist screwing with him a little bit, you knew it wasn’t nice of you, but you truly enjoyed keeping him on his toes..

You: Talk to me in poems and songs.

Ghost: …What?

You: Don't make me be bittersweet.

Ghost: Sweetheart, what the fuck are you talking about?

You: Let me love you like a woman.

Ghost: …

You: Let me hold you like a baby.

Ghost: …

You: Let me shine like a diamond.

Silence.

Then—

Ghost is CALLING…

You ignore it, which admittedly isn’t your smartest move in the grand scheme of things..

Ghost: Answer the fucking phone.

You: Let me be who I’m meant to be.

Ghost: WHERE ARE YOU?

You: Talk to me in songs-

No response, you figure he’s gone back to work, that he’ll respond later. It doesn’t cross your mind that he could be making the ten minute drive home until you hear tires screeching as they come to a stop.

Through the curtains you can see the silhouette of the truck, of him jumping out and rushing to the porch. The front door swings open so violently that it nearly comes off the hinges.

Ghost stands in the doorway, all 6’4” of him, broad-shouldered and seething. His skull mask is pushed up onto his head, revealing his sharp, exasperated glare.

He crosses his arms, staring you down. "Talk to me in poems and songs? What the hell kinda cryptic bullshit is that?"

You crack up, practically folding in half in the armchair you’re perched on. "Oh my God, Simon, it was a prank! Song lyrics! Lana Del Rey!"

Ghost blinks. "You pranked me?"

"Yes!"

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "You had me thinking you were having some sort of existential breakdown and ignoring my calls for LANA DEL FUCKIN’ REY?!"

You wheeze, clutching your stomach. "You should’ve seen your face!"

"You should see yours when I’m done with you," he mutters, already closing the door behind him.

You blink. "What?"

His fingers flex. "Oh, sweetheart, you wanted my attention, didn’t you?*"

Your stomach drops. "Simon, wait—"

Too late.

Ghost lunges, sweeping you up effortlessly and tossing you onto the couch.

Your squeal is drowned out by his low, amused chuckle. "Let’s see how poetic you’re feelin’ after I’m through with you, love."

(Lesson learned: never mess with Ghost unless you’re prepared for consequences.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – "in the club doin a murder"

(Song: Gorgeous – Taylor Swift)

You had just come back from girls night, tipsy and craving your favorite persons attention, though he’s nowhere to be seen as you toss your bag onto the empty couch, the tv was playing what looked like an old football match, and there were a couple of beer bottles littered on the coffee table..stumbling to the bedroom you toss yourself lazily onto the bed, half on, half off, ass pointed towards the door as you swipe your phone open, pulling up your message thread, you felt like fucking with him a little.

You: You should take it as a compliment, that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk.

Soap: EXCUSE ME??

You: And I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us.

Soap: WHAT FUCKIN BOYFRIEND?!

You: He's in the club doing, I don’t know what.

Soap: I’M ABOUT TO BE IN THE CLUB DOIN’ A MURDER, WHO THE FUCK—

You: You’re so gorgeous!

Soap: YER DAMN RIGHT I AM, BUT WHO THE FUCK IS THIS BOYFRIEND YER TALKIN’ ABOUT?!

You: I can't say anything to your face.

Soap: WELL YE BETTER FUCKIN START BECAUSE I AM TWO SECONDS FROM LOSIN’ IT.

You: ‘Cause look at your face.

Soap: STOP TRYIN’ TO BUTTER ME UP AND ANSWER ME, WOMAN.

Then—

Soap is CALLING…

You ignore it, pouting because you were in the middle of typing something and he interrupted.

Soap: ANSWER. THE. PHONE.

Soap: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YE?

Soap: YER ACTIN’ SHADY AS FUCK, LASS, I SWEAR—

His little bubbles go away and you start typing again, wondering if he was checking your location so he could come whisk you away. Before you can even finish typing another response, you hear the thunderous stomp of boots approaching. He mustve been down in the basement..

Then—BANG.

The door slams open.

Soap stands there, looking red-faced and furious, chest heaving like he just ran to find you. His hands are braced on the doorframe, like he’s physically holding himself back from shaking the answers out of you.

"What the fuck is this?!" he demands, holding up his phone.

You burst into laughter, barely able to breathe. "Oh my God, Johnny, it’s song lyrics!"

His eye twitches. "Song lyrics."

"Taylor Swift, babe! It was a prank—"

Soap lets out the most dramatic groan, dropping his phone onto the table as he scrubs his hands down his face. "*Ye mean to tell me I just sprinted through the fuckin’ house for TAYLOR SWIFT?”

"I’m so sorry—"

"Yer not," he accuses, glaring at you. "Ye knew I’d lose my fuckin’ mind over that shite!" He stalks towards you, you’re still half off of the bed, ass facing him.

You wipe away tears of laughter. "Aww, you got all jealous and protective. That’s kinda hot, Johnny."

He glares at you, and you don’t see his hand raise until he’s swinging it down, landing on your ass with a thwack. “Wanted to fuck around and find out, hm? Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, lass."

Your eyes sparkle. "Promise?" You wiggle your ass playfully, sly smile on your face..

Soap’s expression shifts��his jaw clenches, his blue eyes darkening just slightly.

You don’t have time to react before he lunges, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you over onto your back like a sack of potatoes, spreading your legs as he notches himself between them, the skirt of your too mini for his liking dress riding up to your waist.

"JOHNNY—!"

"Ye wanted my attention, lass? Well, ye fuckin’ got it now."

(Turns out, pranking your highly emotional, dramatic Scotsman has consequences.)

[wonilye]

i’m liquid smooth (come touch me too) | y.jw

“swear it. swear to me, that your lips belong to your heart, and your heart belongs to me. may i be the only object of your affection and obsession, and your promise to me consume your every waking hour, until you draw your final breath - and may that final breath be against my wanting lips.” or: in which you desperately harden your heart towards your classmate yang jungwon, but in the course of your own introspection you get a glimpse into his. — title from mitski’s liquid smooth

W/C — 2.5k

TW — graphic depictions of blood and body, severe trauma, depression, mentions of death and implied suicidal thoughts and tendencies. A/N at end with explanations.

you don’t believe in love - no, you can’t. what reason would you have to believe in stolen gazes and claimed hands? the whispers of sweet nothings are nothing more than muffled drivel to your closed ears. blood stains your palms, your sheets, your slate. caresses are sickening, a reminder of what they once were in your own innocence, while you still read the words “once upon a time” to yourself and believed them. 

really, you swear you don’t believe in love.

so when yang jungwon comes along, it’s like you are reminded of every notion of defense. at first, he reminds you of a sacrificial lamb, offered by those around him who tell him to “win her over, maybe it’ll remove the stick up her ass.” after all, he’s the golden boy, the perfect little student council head who’s got it all, never had to try his hand at something and not succeed. he has the disposition of a sweet cherub, rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes that know no evil - how can someone like him possibly know what it’s like to be irreparably ruined? it is with this that you resolve to lock down into the base of the shackles that define you, trap you, show him what resistance you have. you ignore him, prove to him that there is something he can fail at. that he cannot always win, and that lesson will begin with you.

why you? maybe it is because you see that innocent little girl in him, if only she had grown up oblivious to the depravity of your own flesh and blood. 

your undoing begins on the rooftop. he finds you one day, perched on top of the air conditioning vents as you eat your lunch. he sits by the base without his own. and he talks, as though you can actually hear him. he talks about fleeting things, like his student council projects or some silly joke his teacher told him. (something about a frog. you don’t laugh, but you find yourself returning to it for the rest of the day.) day by day, he inches closer until he’s shoulder to shoulder with you, eye to eye and heart to heart. although you’d much prefer he didn’t know that.

his smile disarms you, and with a kindness you come to know he did not learn from the world, he takes you apart. slowly, slowly, he reduces your walls to rubble by pushing his own debris apart, offering you each rotten part of his soul as though it is gold. and maybe in your mind’s eyes it really is unlike any treasure that has or will come into your possession. is it sick for you to find solace in another’s tainted memories?

sometimes he’ll just sit with you, as though the earbuds you have plugged in don’t even exist. he doesn’t even try to reach over the volume of your music. he’ll just gaze at the cloudy sky with you, says things he knows other people will never hear. because you can keep a secret, can’t you? (those words once haunted your nights until they spilled into the daylight, but somehow those same words out of his mouth don’t make your wrists ache the way they used to. and maybe you are a fool for it.)

the content of his confessions changes with each passing day. “my friends don’t really feel like friends.” or another: “it’s taking a lot more effort than it used to for me to wake up in the mornings.”

maybe he just wants to say things, without consequence or judgment or the expectations everyone else seems to assign to him. the sky is blue, the grass is green, yang jungwon has to be perfect - or so it appears. he makes it seem as though you are the only one privy to the existence of a less-than version of him. maybe in the beginning you didn’t believe that could possibly exist, but the indubitability of it all is starting to wear out.

and eventually you give him your ears. soon, the music stops playing, and you’re listening to him, muffled as it is. then it turns into one earbud down, and finally, one day, you’re hearing him with your own two ears, save for the crash of rain that pelts and stings your skin, dead eyes taking in the sight of yang jungwon’s red-rimmed ones. the sight of him, backed against the wall and into a corner by his own iniquity. he opens his mouth, and for the first time, he meets your gaze in a way that chills you. you have never seen that expression on him, never thought something so lifeless could come to possess him.

it is laughably ironic that it takes the unravelling of yang jungwon for him to receive you, undivided and entranced in a sick sort of way. like some sort of shattering mirrorball, captivating and haunting.

“want to hear the truth? i crave the attention. the excellence, the admiration, i wear myself to the bone because i’m addicted to the feeling of success, and anything apart from it leaves me hollow. i’m not quite whole, and i’m looking for something, someone i will never have nor want.” i knew, you reply. but you didn’t. you learn a lot from that one admission. that he is not the Mary you believed he was. that he is not pure white snow and ignorant bleating, rather, there is fresh hot blood spilled across the skin by his own knife - his own blood. he is the paradox of a sinner and a victim, just like you. and you find solace in that. and maybe the gravity of each of your sins is different, but sin is sin, no? he is as innocent as you are evil, and vice versa, mutatis mutandis. or any other word that will remind yourself of the evil that wars within your soul that reaches out to him. 

he flashes, turns, makes you want to keep looking at him as he puts one foot in front of the other towards you. “fair trade. your turn to make your confessions.” though this priest is as painfully human as you are, there’s something that just feels so…right, to take the plunge into shared self-denigration, face-to-face with a mirrored imperfection.  

the words drip like blood from your lips, a steady outpouring that is slow, yes, but one you cannot seem to stop. he has undone every last loose string you tried so hard to cut off, unravelled your web of lies and traps that distract from the centerpiece that is you, you. “love,” you say, before you can trap your own tongue. “love, and who should give it to me. i don’t know it, can’t understand it. i cannot love anyone who wants me, and yet-” 

you feel the words rapidly clot in your throat, like they are healing a gaping wound far too late. you stop, but he only nods, does not ask further. there is little left to say, when there is so much to be understood.

you speak in riddles, every subsequent exchange walking the line of falsehood and mystery, a lie or bait. after that day, he does not tell you any truth if it is not followed by the sardonic quirk of his lip. yang jungwon, like you, is well-versed in the dance around reality. and maybe it is denial that stops you. maybe it is the fact that he is so unwilling to show you any side of him that reminds you of the perfect boy you thought he was. and maybe it is the fact that you refuse to voluntarily soften your heart in a way that hurts, because it evades you as to why he could see the worst part of you, and still want more. it churns and turns your stomach inside out, and you begin to regurgitate the losses, all the missing pieces of the puzzle that seek to meet him halfway against your better judgment. you are out of control, drowning in waters more shallow than you have ever known, and yet the burn in your lungs is subsiding bit by bit.

so yes, he takes you apart. it’s gradual, as though he is trying to steal you piece by piece, shard by shard, and only when you are nearly there does he finally reveal his hand in full, bleeding and scarred, your fragmented existence in the heart of his palm.

one night. one night is all it takes, inebriated as the both of you are at someone’s party, somewhere or the other. it’s a coming-of-age party, the drinks flow and the glasses clink (because some high-schoolers are wealthy beyond comparison, and red plastic cups simply don’t cut it). but it doesn’t really matter that the house is big, nor that the music is soft and slow. all that you can think of is jungwon’s eyes on you. you, on the balcony’s railing, legs dangling as you beckon to him with a dazed grin. 

“first time i’ve seen you smile.”

“yeah, i have to be out of my own damn mind to give you any affection. and yet…” and yet he still comes back for more each time. it’s quiet out here, and he should be with his friends, drinking minimally and laughing abundantly. just like a good honours student would do. 

but he is not really a good person, however the rest of the world believes the facade. he is a masochist, and you are the carnal ache he’s looked for his whole life.

in other words, you are terrible for him; you are his lifeline. a paradox that should not be, but for him the burns blend into bliss. 

“it’s dangerous up there. you could fall right off.” a useless statement, because he sits right at your feet.

“and when has that stopped me?”  

he looks up and out, following your gaze to the sky above. in seoul city, the few stars you can see are dim like no other. no such grandeur of constellations and stories. “beautiful, aren’t they?”

“you can barely see them here. besides, they’re just big balls of gas.”

he snorts, head tilting to rest on your dangling shin. “a very you thing to say. but they remind me of you.”

“oh?” you slide down from the banister, sinking into the spot beside him. it is returning home. “how so?”

he’s silent for a while, as he usually is while he collects his thoughts. you know that sometimes, his headspace is a flurry of truth and lies, of the voices in his head and the voices seeking to silence the latter. you began to notice when he would pause for a second during his speeches, a sour look crossing his features for a split second when he stuttered, before he returned to the same cordial smile. but here, he does not need to pretend. here, by your side, there is no shame in not knowing what to say.

“distant, at first. but the warmth, though it’s lightyears away, still fills me up and keeps me wondering and waiting for a day i finally get a glimpse of you. beautiful in the most destructive of ways. rightly so, as they’re still ‘big balls of hot gas’ as you so nicely put it.”

his hot breath blooms across your cheek in the chilly night air, and it is at this moment that you realise how close he is - shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. when did he get so close? it occurs to you that he knows. he’s learned to read your scowling face, your shaking hands, your trembling heart.

and yet for the first time in your life, the absence of distance does not scare you. maybe it’s because he and you unlearned the fear together, by taking apart each wall brick by brick, relishing the way the debris sliced your fingers and stung your palms. selfish sacrifice. selfless actions to serve yourself. ironic, but for you and jungwon it is just so fitting. 

two self-worshipping sinners, finding a glimpse of redemption in each other.

you can’t turn away, not when his gaze is transfixed upon you, as though you really are the night sky. “you’re not afraid of getting burnt.” it’s less of a question than it is a statement, because you already know the answer. and when you meet his eyes, those big brown eyes in which yearning swirls and simmers, you think you know his before he even says it. “neither are you.”

there’s an unspoken promise between you and him, the moonshine a witness to the wordless declaration. the bleeding truth hangs bated in the air as he surges forward, and he kisses you with an intensity that sears your soul. he is close, closer than you have let anyone come, and as you lace your hand with his, returning the same yearning, you know you will never feel this way apart from him. yang jungwon is your undoing, and you are his. the brush of his skin on yours does not repulse you, the way it used to for everyone else. he makes a pathetic, strangled sound against you as you sink your teeth into his bottom lip and pull. he is in love, yes, with the way you make him hurt. you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, a crashing storm at first, dulling to the river’s hasty flow, and finally the trickle of a stream. soothing, smooth. he is water that refreshes your parched soul, only to disappear and leave you thirsting for more.

when you finally pull away, you find that your free hand is splayed across his chest, his heart thrumming below your fingertips. alive, alive. the heat of his thumb running along your cheekbone, his steady panting that fills the midnight air, and the warmth of his legs now tangled with yours are reminders that he is truly alive with something else other than the desire for death.  

“are we in love?”

“maybe not. but i’m not so stupid as to believe i can live without you.”

you scoff. “sweet words for a sharp-minded boy.”

the firm press of his hand against yours is an assurance unlike any other. it is a covenant, and in your heart you hope the starless sky will bear witness to the bond of mind and flesh, of body and soul. maybe you will never forget your sins, and he not his own. what you need is not to erase the past, but live with the future. one step at a time, no matter how long it takes.

“on the contrary,” he muses. “sweet words for a sharp-tongued girl.”

A/N — so. it’s been a couple months of silence from me because of exams lmao sorry…whatever the case life is shitty. if you caught the references to SA i am so sorry. this entire fic was genuinely just a vent drabble disguised as fanfiction. if you relate to this i’m even more sorry, and you can please come to my dms and scold me for it/talk to me about it, either way just know you aren’t alone.

this was definitely not meant to be beautiful in any way, i’d say it’s more of a literary expression of trauma and how two people might possibly come together because of it. there’s a lot of religious symbolism, and there are motifs of bodily imagery and stars. it’s a little hard to catch but the subtext is that if their flesh is inadequate, they can transcend themselves by become a part of the universe. it’s a bit questionable and unlike anything i’ve ever done, so it’s definitely far from perfect. but still!

on a more lighthearted note, the frog joke exists! it’s very lame and my friend actually told me that joke, it’s basically about a frog who goes to a fortune teller and asks where he will meet his dream girl, and he’s told he will meet her in her biology class…yes you can probably infer the rest. yes now you can laugh.

IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR PLS LEAVE FEEDBACK THANK YOU AND ILY !!!

[gakukitty]

— LONELY GIRL x shin asakura 3

summary . being around these weirdos make you feel something . something different from the rush of killing , different from the pounding in your chest after training .

wc . 1.4k

cw . a little bit sad if u squint rlly hard , and i don’t rlly know what else !

masterlist ౨ৎ next

as you stand before the Sakamoto family’s shop, you think you’re going to fall over and pass out on the spot. you came here because you need the money from mr. Sakamoto’s bounty. your lipstick is waiting for you— looking so pretty in the store’s glass window. she looks at you every day, basically begging to be taken home with you. she will be yours. you will wear that lipstick today after killing mr. Sakamoto and claiming the bounty. yes, you will! you will!!

however, when you finally step inside, the air conditioning lightly brushing over your face— you really can’t bring yourself to think of anything related to your job. your gaze drifts across the store, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. so much for the money, you guess.

you walk over to the aisle with makeup remover— you forgot to get some last time you were here. not that you would’ve had a chance to get it even if you did remember.

“here.” shin says, already holding out the item for you. flinching, you blink back at the man with slightly widened eyes. you glance down at the makeup remover; the exact one you were just thinking of. this guy’s good.

“thank you, shin.” you mutter, gently grabbing the item from him. you give the man a hesitant look, feeling uneasy from that weirdly kind smile on his face. he looks good— very good— but you’re not particularly used to such warmth. wasn’t this guy supposed to be like mr. sakamoto? an ex-assassin?

then again, it seems everyone here is oddly sweet.

you can’t remember the last time someone’s looked at you with eyes that sparkle like that.

in your little daydreams, you fail to notice the way shin’s becoming increasinginly more flustered. you’re looking at him so closely, and everything you’re thinking at the moment is a mix between sparkly hearts and thunderstorms. he can’t get a read on you— or maybe he’s just too distracted by you. more specifically, the way your lips are parting and your lashes flutter.

you’re both hauled out of your eye-contact when someone comes crashing into the shop, flass shattering everywhere. shin clicks his tongue— mr. sakamoto’s not gonna be happy.

you’re quick to pull out your pistol, aiming and shooting at the intruder. dead instantly.

“hey!” shin flounders, eyes wide. yeah, mr. sakamoto’s definitely not going to be happy! “you can’t just— how did you— i thought your—“

“i think you’re cuter when you’re not flailing around like a fish abour a bit of blood, y’know.” you deadpan, glancing back at shin. that’s a lie. you think he’s cute all the time. but you won’t tell him that.

too bad, he can read minds.

shin looks back at you, his cheeks flushed with that shade of pink you’ve become so familiar with, and you swear you could feel your heart beat just a little faster. not in the same way it beats after a kill, not in the same way it quickens during a date— but an entirely new pace that you really can’t control.

“uh—“

you’re cut off by a figure— the assassin that you thought you killed earlier— standing back up. you immediately shriek, arms wrapping around shin and clinging onto him like a lifeline as a yelp escapes his lips.

“what. the. fuck!!” you shout, shoving the blonde-haired man in front of you. ghosts are totally not your thing. i mean, haven’t you heard about thise stories of the souls of people you’ve killed coming back to haunt you?! no freakin’ way! this cannot be happening right now!!

“chill,” shin pleads, a hand reaching to grab yours. that has the opposite effect. you’re already scrambling away from shin, and that freak in front of the two of you as you clutch onto one of the shelves.

“(name)—“

“AHHHGGHH!! GET IT AWAAAYYY!!” you squeal, a shaky hand pointing back at the figure. did it just grow another head?! you think you’re about to pass out.

“uh.. Lu? Heisuke?” shin mutters skeptically, taking a step closer. your eyes widen; grasp tightening on the shelf. goodbye, cruel world. you can’t believe that shin’s going to surrender to that creature—

“HAHAHAH, SHIN, YOU SHOULD’VE SEEN THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE!” Lu beams, slapping her knee as she giggles and laughs. Heisuke smiles brightly from beside her, and it’s only now that it starts to click with him.

they wore a costume and pretended to be an assassin.

you crack an eye open hesitantly, and your jaw drops. that red-haired girl and the funny bird guy.. your cheeks suddenly feel quite warm.

“was that supposed to be a prank?” you mumble, almost shyly; shin thinks you look very cute. the way your eyes avert at Lu’s teasing, the way you huff at Heisuke’s little jab. you’re much more suited for a life with them.

even if you are better suited for a life with the Sakamoto family, you refuse to submit. so after an afternoon of kiddinf around and cleaning up the mess from earlier, you don’t really hesitate stepping outside.

next time you’ll get that bounty money, for sure.

“(name), wait.” shin says, jogging up behind you. he looks back at you, suddenly feeling slightly hesitant. “let me walk you home.”

you just stare back at him. you don’t know if you should feel offended or flattered at his offer. the guy knows that you’re a skilled assassin, yet he still tries to be a gentleman? you keep quiet for a few moments, silently thinking over how to respond.

“alright, sure. i’ve never been one to deny a pretty boy, anyways.” you draw out, lips quirking up into a smile. a smile that shin’s grown to like a lot. he’s not quite sure about these feelings, but after an embarrassing conversation with mrs. Sakamoto, he’s decided to see where these emotions leads him.

the sun begins to set, and you find yourself yawning softly; today’s been pretty eventful. you’re not even this tired after missions. man, having fun can be pretty exhausting sometimes.

“…you should quit being an assassin.”

“not happening.”

shin sighs; mumbling a soft “it was worth a shot” under his breath as he glances over to you. he pauses, stumbling just slightly.

you’re very beautiful under the glow of the sunset.

you stop, looking back at shin as he straightens up. your eyes meet, the breeze gently brushing through your hair. for a moment, you’d almost believe that time had stopped.

befote you cough softly, quickly turning straight ahead and starting to walk again. your heart’s beating so fast. so, so fast. this is so weird, so unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

the rest of the walk sort of passed by in a blur of emotions, eventually whisking you away and guiding you to the door to your apartment.

you look back at each other, the faint glow of the lamo above flickering slightly. by now, the sun has set and the moon has risen; leaving you feeling awfully vulnerable.

it’s something about the darkness, that just leaves you feeling so .. emotional. or maybe it’s the man standing infront of you, looking at you with those pretty eyes of his.

“thank you for walking me home.” you finally speak, your usual charisma vanishing. you’ve been able to charm many men into this very same apartment; but you can’t bring yourself to do the same with shin.

“uh, yeah.” he trails off, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck esther awkwardly. something’s telling him that he should stay. but he really can’t put his finger on it. think, shin! think! what did mrs. Sakamoto tell you…

‘just go with what feels right!’ her kind voice rings through his mind, like a gentle bell that’s ongoing. shin averts his gaze for a moment, before finally locking eyes with you.

and something, something that he really can’t tell what it is, pushes him to lean closer. his hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over the skin.

he’s never done this before, so he’s slightly unsure. but judging by the look on your face, the thoughts running through your mind, shin finds himself closing the gap between your lips.

it’s a soft, chaste kiss; but just enough to answer the questions you two have been agonising over.

shin blinks slightly as you pull away, a flustered expression on your face as you scramble to open your apartment door. and before he can open his mouth to speak, it’s already slammed shut in his face.

© gakukitty please don’t copy my work , repost it and claim as your own , translate , or do anything stupid with it ! try and improve on ur own skills first ♡

[shefollowedthestars]

f1 driver!kate bishop ⋆.˚🏎️ ˚.⋆

warnings: reader doesn't know much about formula one, use of y/n

notes: i love f1 and i love kate bishop and kate as a driver is so hot to me and so i needed to write this. i am praying i experience this scenario irl with a pretty girl (i am delusional) also this hasn't been edited too much, you've been warned lmao

the formula one paddock is bustling the morning of the race. team members, fans and family all running and walking around one another, eager to see the race start. everyone is buzzing with anticipation to see these cars, but you? you're the slowest person there. you know the people around you probably find you incredibly annoying - no one likes a slow walker - but you're more confused than ever. where are you even supposed to go?

you cross a corner and flash a smile at some team members wearing navy blue. redbull! you think to yourself. it's the one f1 team name you actually know and remember, because you have a vip pass to their hospitality this weekend. you point to the pass around your neck, and one of the men dressed in the redbull blue pulls the door open for you.

you walk inside the building, taking everything in. there's multiple tables and chairs and lots of food buffets and bads, but you can't find the one thing you're looking for. you desperately search for your best friend, yelena, who when you said you had been feeling down last week, said she knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who had passes to a formula one race. classic yelena. you weren't sure if she acquired these legally, but you weren't too worried about that. you looked for the familiar blonde for a second time, but couldn't spot her anywhere.

sighing in defeat, you turn to settle down at a nearby table when you shock yourself and bump into something sturdy - someone sturdy.

"shit, sorry." you hear a voice call from right behind you. you can feel the person against you, feel the vibrations of her voice. you quickly pull away, spin around and smooth out your clothes to see the woman standing in front of you.

she has striking blue eyes that stare directly at you with an apologetic shine in them. oddly nervous, you rub your neck. "no, i'm sorry, i should have looked where i was going, honestly." you laugh. she gives you a smile back and then looks right into your eyes. your whole body starts to feel too warm and too safe in the blue of her irises and you take a sharp breath in as the girl starts talking again.

"oh, you're fine. i'm kate, by the way." she tells you, her hand on her chest, pointing to herself. she seems slightly anxious to you and as she she rubs her hand against her arms, slightly flexing them, it only solidifies that thought for you. you immediately feel the need to make her feel more relaxed.

"i'm y/n! do you want something to eat? i can buy you something, if you want?" you try to have an excited tone to your voice, which you do, but your voice slightly cracks - at the end of the day, you're still nervous. you're not sure why, but as she gives you that charming smile of hers again (the one where her eyes and nose scrunch and her mouth is ajar in a smirk), you may have an idea as to why. goosebumps start to form on your arm.

kate lets out a tongue click. "that's very, very kind of you. but i actually can't eat something else so soon. i have to get in the car in a couple minutes." her tone suddenly got lower and warmthness starts to spread in your body again and - wait, she has to get in the car?

kate laughs, you apparently said that out loud. she moves her hands up and down, presenting herself and only then do you see the purple race suit she's wearing. it shapes around her perfectly and the top is unzipped, draping around her waist and she's wearing a tight t-shirt. she's a driver, you realize.

she leans her head to the side and chuckles again and you can't stop the smile from appearing on your own face too. "i'm sorry, i didn't realize. i'm kind of new to the paddock." you tell her, still in between light laughter.

she gives you a look of sympathy. and her tongue darts out of her mouth, licking her lips. "nah, it's okay," she has a contemplating look on her face, on of her eyes squinting, "hey, look, maybe after the race, if i win i can show you around a little bit? i got vip access to everywhere." you heart skips three beats at once and you have to pace your breathing as she raises her eyebrows at you. she has to know what she's doing to you. god, she's so pretty and infuriating and an f1 driver and she offering to- "you okay there? watcha think?" kate asks, cutting your thoughts off.

all you can do is just nod at her shyly. before she can reply to you she gets whisked away by her managers who tell her she needs to hurry the fuck up, idiot but as she's walking away with them, she's only staring back at you, giving you a smirk and a perfect view of her pricing, beautiful blue eyes. i don't even know how this sport works, but god, i hope she wins, you think to yourself.

and that's it! i fear these thoughts have consumed my mind for weeks i love driver/racer kate sm

[thebruno65]

What if everyone survived the first trial? Chapter 1: Part 1

This is pretty much a direct follow-up to my last post in which I depicted everyone surviving the first trial. So, what if that actually happened? In these set of posts, me, and you all (hopefully) will try and depict this alternate universe where ASU-NARO really did fuck up bad and had not a singular death in the first trial.

So, we begin all the way back in the first trial themselves, in which… everyone survives! And are able to escape over to the central hall of floor one. Like so!

As you can see, Alice is still absent for the beginning of the chapter, thought this time, its going to be a little different. Since Hinako has to live here, it means that Alice HAS to stay behind and choose Split, whether he wants to or not, meaning that they both pass their trial at the same time. So, unless Alice gains the power of super speed, they’ll have to meet with each other, and with that, Reko later would join the two.

I think Hinako could care less about what Alice really is and decides to keep her mouth to the rest about him, and maybe she can call it them being even, as he did decide to split with her.

Then we have Kanna, which has a full 180° in personality when we meet her now, as Kugie is still alive and well in this timeline, meaning she wouldn’t be all depressed and afraid like the original. Which will make Sou’s plan a bit different without Kanna, but that’s for later.

And finally, Keiji will be a bit less relaxed this time around, as Megumi is still alive too, maybe either cooperating with leading everyone, or even have Megumi take over leader. Either way though, I don’t see her straining too far away from Keiji’s own ideas, not to mention that Megumi doesn’t really hold too much on Keiji herself.

Aside from those guys, everyone else stays relatively the same when we get introduced. With the former dummies getting the same introductions and maybe some explanations for their trials.

So, with introductions and that out of the way, we begin the investigation! And right off the bat, there is one difference I would like to propose, that is: Joe doesn’t partner up with Keiji and eventually be part of the Russian roulette. Why? Well, in the original, Joe follows Keiji because he doesn’t trust him being a cop. But now that Megumi is here to pretty much back him up, or straight up tell everyone he is an ex-cop, there is no suspicion from Joe anymore, instead leaving Megumi in place of Joe, leading to these groups!

I don’t see much happening until the blue room game, everyone just sort of… investigates and goes pretty much the same as the original.

So, we’ll just skip to the Russian Roulette minigame. So, Sara, Keiji, Q-Taro, Kai, and Megumi are suddenly trapped inside the blue room and yada yada, we all know this. Now the interesting part is going to be in who gets to be the shooter, as in the original, Sara was the one chosen because she was not only trustworthy enough, but also that Keiji couldn’t use a gun after his trauma. So, Keiji def still trusts Sara and recommends her, but that’s when Megumi steps up and offers herself to do so along with Q-Taro.

Now the interesting part about Megumi is that she is most likely more reliable and trustable than Sara, at least for now. She showed she can be a leader at the beginning of introductions and also that she is a professional detective, and unlike Keiji, doesn’t have any trauma when wielding said gun (that we know of). So, in a surprising turn of events, I think Megumi ends up winning the Majority vote, much to Keiji’s Dismay, ofc he doesn’t show it.

Since canonically, Sara was able to win this game without any casualties, I doubt Megumi would otherwise, making everyone’s view on her improve. I like to think that after that, she and Sara talk a bit, I doubt Sara would have a grudge on the fact she wasn’t chosen, as it makes sense why Megumi was, and besides, it wasn’t her the one that volunteered herself. And Megumi did show she was capable just now.

And why not, I like this to be the scene where these two spark a little friendship, this would prob lead to Keiji being just a bit more distant than usual to Sara, but not enough so he’s out of the picture.

So, now that that’s over, Instead of partnering up with Joe for the rest of the chapter, I instead thought of partnering her up with Ranmaru, to kinda set up that dynamic from 3-1, since he isn’t dead here meaning he wont be a dummy for that to work there (in fact, I have no clue how I’m going to work around 3-1 at all… if yall want, leave some ideas!)

Aside from that little change, nothing different really happens, maybe aside from the fact that the scene between Kanna Mishima and Sara just gets replaced with something else, since there is no reason for Kanna to be glum about her sister’s non-death.

Anyways, Miley time! And also voting time! As usual, this is the test voting, so technically everyone could live if they were able to see the message behind the door… but I’m not going this route, there are already 8 more people that I have to somehow dwindle down to a small number by chapter 3. I know that technically since there are more ppl they should realise, but for the sake of people dying, I’m going to have to go this route… Onto the votes!

(the rest all had either 1 or no votes)

And sadly, I don’t see Mishima surviving either. The entire reason as to why he got voted out was because he made Nao vote for him, and then Sou votes for him too. While he never actually states why, my guess is that he too overheard Kazumi and Nao’s conversation along with Reko and used it to his advantage. So as unfortunate and disappointedly as it seems, the professor is still the first one to die.

Kinda sucks thought I could maybe have worked around it, but someone has to die here, and Mishima already had a very valid reasoning in the original one.

But enough about that, you may be wondering now, why do Hinako and Megumi have 2 votes? Well, Megumi’s is obvious, we know who vote her and why they did it (*ahem* ex-cop *ahem*)But what about Hinako? Well, I’m going to go throw a curveball and say that Naomichi voted for Hinako, why? Well one because I needed more characters to do something and have more drama to compensate for the increase of characters.

But two, Kurumada around this time still has this whole ideology of “kill the weak and stay strong” which was shown in 3-1a and his minisode. So, I think this voting could potentially work as a way to see how Kurumada is early on, as he was also shown to not have much remorse either until he spent more time with everyone and when they took care of him. But this hasn’t happened, so for now, I’m going with this idea.

Of course, Hinako wouldn’t really mind the vote, she is shown to be suicidal and not really that afraid of death. But Megumi is in probably a mix of scepticism and anger. And when Kurumada reveals he voted for Hinako, she puts two and two together and realised Keiji voted for her.

This turns into an argument between the two, maybe even getting the Keiji and Megumi backstory earlier on, having the group be split in who to trust and not. Heck, maybe use this as a way to give us an option to either have Megumi or Keiji as the leader, which will continue on for later chapters.

But anyways, that is how chapter 1 – Part 1 could potentially go with everyone alive! I know this isn’t much change, but trust me, i believe part 2 is going to start to deviate further from canon.

Lemme know if you would change anything about it, leave some ideas for the next chapters, and please PLEASE give me a way to somehow dwindle the cast more, bc if I just go with how canon is, we will have 12/11 people still alive by the time chapter 3-2 rolls around.

One idea I had is to give out 2 sacrifice roles instead of one, but that will still only get rid of 2 more people. Another one I had is to try and have 1-2 more deaths in the sub-games, but yet again, same problem. And the last one I had is to move chapter 3 up to chapter 4 and make a custom chapter 3 myself, but that takes a shit long time, and will just become very head-canon-ey and maybe even bias towards it. So please tell me how to fix this. Until then, see you in Chapter 1 – Part 2!

[bloodlineslut]

The Law of Obsession (Ch. 4) | Roman Reigns

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! OC

Warnings: slight mention of violence, heated make out sesh

Word Count: 2.7k words

A/N: oouuu i'm trying to build this up so good ya'll. i am planning to have little glimpses of Roman's overprotective/toxic behavior towards anyone that wrongs Laila. But you know our lover girl not gonna see it lmao. delulu if you will.

On the drive to the club, Naomi talked to Jimmy with Jey butting in every few seconds, leaving Roman and Laila with their close proximity and inner thoughts.

She sat beside Roman with her body slightly angled away from him, trying to not be all up on him, but it seemed like no matter how much space she tried to put between them, he just took up so much room.

She kept catching whiffs of his cologne—it was a mix of marine accords and wood.

‘Oh my God, he smells so good.’ Laila thought to herself.

She could feel the warmth radiating from his arm that was mere centimeters away from hers. Every time the car hit a bump in the road, their arms rubbed up against one another’s, but she wasn’t complaining.

She heard the other three’s voices, but she wasn’t listening to their words. Her mind was filled with the burly man sitting right next to her.

“I’m just saying,” Jey’s voice spoke out. “You always say you ‘Big Jim’ but man, with Naomi you turn into ‘Baby Jim’!”

Naomi laughed at the nickname, covering her face with her hands.

“Aye shut up fool!” Jimmy shot back, pointing at his twin. “It ain’t my fault that you still single and don’t have nobo-”

“Nah nah! I got options, don’t get it twisted.”

“Okay, okay.” Jimmy put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Ya’ll argue too much.” Roman let out a low chuckle at the twins’ usual back-and-forth banter. “Jimmy can be a baby with his wife if he wants to.”

“Thank you! Somebody gets me!” Jimmy clapped his hands.

Jey huffed out and smacked his teeth. “Whatever, uce. Roman when was the last time you was all soft over somebody?” Jey knew what he was doing, judging by the death glare Roman gave him for a split second.

“That’s what I thought, uce.”

“They’re a little crazy…” Laila whispered, shifting her head towards Roman.

He scoffed. “Yea, try growing up with them. Everybody thought we were triplets.” He remembered that when they were younger, the twins would switch places and pull pranks on their family members, teachers, coaches, and even strangers.

“That’s hilarious.” Laila giggled, just imagining Jimmy and Jey being wild little boys.

In the midst of her thoughts, his resonant voice spoke again, gently to her. “How was school?”

Her lips upturned into a smile before she knew it. “It was good! A little boring, though. I actually had an exam today.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised, wanting to hear more. “Well, I know you aced it.”

Laila shrugged her shoulders, never getting her hopes up too much for tests in case she was disappointed. She was always that way, yet she can count on one hand how many times she’s ever failed a test.

“Hopefully…we’ll see,” she concluded.

She looked to her right, gazing out of the window as they passed all the buildings.

As Roman’s driver pulled up to the curb, the thumping of the LIV nightclub’s music could be felt in the chest of everyone.

Of course Jey was the first person to get out of the car before everyone else. When everyone got situated in standing on the sidewalk, Roman did a quick scope of the scene. He was used to doing this everywhere he went.

The bouncer caught sight of Roman and told the people who were next in line to wait, while he waved the group over.

“You guys are good to go on in to VIP.” This bouncer was actually one of Roman’s cousins that handled some people for him every now and then. He was skillfully trained in sharpshooting, and you can imagine why Roman kept him around.

“’Preciate it, Dwayne.”

“Anytime.”

The group crossed the threshold of the extravagant club, following Roman to one of the VIP sections that was adorned with long couches in separate sections.

Naomi pulled Laila close to her and she took a bunch of selfies as soon as they got settled on the couch. Laila would soon find out that Naomi loved to take pictures at every hangout the group did.

“Aye excuse me miss! Can we get some Tequila shots with lime and that salt around the rim?” Jey called out to the nearest waitress that was walking by with a tray. She turned to look at him and confirmed she’d be right back with the order.

As she sashayed away, Jey’s eyes followed her figure. “Damn…She bad as hell.”

“Jey, you don’t even know her.” Laila spoke up, feeling more comfortable.

He didn’t even turn to look at Laila as he replied back. “I’ll get to know her.”

She and Naomi shared a glance and giggled at Jey’s boldness, which only gets emphasized with the liquor.

Now that Laila was seated, not only did she get a chance to take in the scenery of the night life, but she noticed that Roman had left to go somewhere. Everyone was dressed to the nines, almost every girl in some height of heels. She saw everything ranging from girls dancing on each other to people full-on making out.

Roman’s presence returned to her side on the long couch as he sat down and manspread his legs, which Laila couldn’t help but notice every time he did so.

“Where’d you go? You missed Jey trying to shoot his shot with this girl.” Laila filled him in on the funny ordeal.

Roman turned his head to look at her. “Oh, I had to go talk to Dwayne about some…business.”

Laila’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Wait, he’s the bouncer right? I think you said his name before we walked in.”

He nods in confirmation and softly smiles. “Yep. He’s my cousin too.”

“Damn, are ya’ll related to everyone?”

That actually makes Roman let out a hearty chuckle, showcasing his pearly white teeth. “Pretty much, baby.”

The nickname doesn’t go unnoticed. She looks down at her lap and shyly smiles. Roman loved how he could make her all shy and flustered. It made him feel like only he mattered.

That’s exactly what he needed and yearned for.

To protect her.

From any and everything.

By any means necessary.

He shook away those thoughts that were beginning to creep into his mind if anyone tried to harm her.

The waitress that Jey was trying to holler at came back with a tray full of the requested shots and limes.

As she placed everything on the table, Jey was giving her the full treatment of a guy shooting his shot at a girl.

“That’s my uce man.” Jimmy said lowly to them, making Naomi just playfully roll her eyes.

Apparently whatever he said worked because soon, he was putting his number in her phone. After they exchanged a few longing glances, she returned back to work.

“Whew! Aye, let’s toast to that!” Everyone grabs a shot glass and a lime, doing the traditional method.

Laila almost couldn’t bear the bitterness of the Tequila, but Roman downed it like it was water. He put the shot glass back on the table as he took note of Laila’s inquiring gaze.

“Been doin’ it a long time. It’s an acquired taste for sure.” He answers her unspoken question.

She nods in understanding.

The DJ then changes the song to Whatever You Like by T.I. and Naomi stood up, grabbing Laila so they could go to the LED-lit dance floor.

As the two danced to the catchy lyrics, they held hands, spun each other, and danced on each other.

Roman’s eyes wouldn’t dare leave Laila’s figure. Even in jeans and a top, she was still the most beautiful woman in this club.

He was imagining his lips on hers, slowly taking over her with his love as she could do nothing but take it and moan in his ear, begging for more.

He’d buy her anything she could ever desire; clothes, shoes, purses, cars, a house, he didn’t care what it was. Though he could tell that she’s the type to not be materialistic.

“Noo, Roman that is way too expensive!”

“Baby, please I bought it for you. Don’t worry about the price.”

A smile was starting to creep onto his face but was swiftly wiped off as a different waitress set a drink down.

But it wasn’t the fact that she set a drink down. It was what she said as she did it.

“The gentleman over there sent this for the lady in the white top and jeans. Enjoy!” She said then walked away.

He followed the line of vision that the waitress was referring to until he laid his eyes on a pathetic piece of shit.

The man was looking, smiling at a dancing Laila, saying things to his friends around him.

Roman’s eyes narrowed and his jaw started twitching.

He could just picture it. His large hands around the man’s throat, watching him struggle and plead for help as the life slowly drains out of his perverted eyes.

He rubbed his beard, trying to calm himself down, but it wasn’t helping much.

Jimmy and Jey silently gave each other a look, knowing what Roman was thinking.

Roman couldn’t hear the sad excuse for a man, but he could damn sure read his crusty lips. “I would fuck her so good,” is what Roman made out.

The anger that was building up quickly inside of him was unreal. It was a different type of anger this time. He let his teeth scrape over his bottom lip as he contemplated beating the man to a pulp.

That would scare Laila, though and he didn’t want that.

He wanted her to run to him, not away from him. He pulled out his phone and sent Dwayne a text describing the man and the section that he was in, stating that he needed basic information on him.

Roman looked to his left to see Jey talking to his new girlfriend or whatever, but Jimmy was just sitting by himself.

This club was honestly never Roman’s favorite, but then again no club was his favorite. He’d much rather be in his home in sweatpants, surrounded by Laila.

“Jimmy, you ‘bout ready to go? Looks like Jey got a new girl.” He motioned to the girl who was damn near on Jey’s lap as they were talking and laughing about God knows what.

“Yea uce. At least the girls had fun?” He motioned to the two stumbling back over to their section, out of breath and huge smiles plastered on their faces.

Jimmy could tell. He stood up, gently grabbing Naomi’s face as he looked into her eyes. “You drunk, ain’t ya? And you was talking about me and Jey.” He took her hand in his and shook his head.

If Naomi was drunk, then that means so was Laila. It still surprised the boys how quickly those two became so close so fast. It was like they were childhood friends or high school best friends.

Roman stood up, towering over Laila as she followed his concerned eyes. “Yea, you’re drunk too huh?”

Laila coyly shook her head, smiling at his strict gaze. “No…”

Roman raised his eyebrows in disbelief and amusement. “Alright princess. Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed her hand as the now 6-membered group walk outside to Roman’s driver.

They all got in their seats in the stretched interior, continuing their own respective conversations.

One thing about Laila was that…off the liq’ she tended to let her desires rush past the gates that usually kept them in line.

She wanted to feel his lips on hers, longing for that intimacy with him. She’d only ever kissed one guy and it wasn’t even that good, so she knows with Roman it would be an indescribable experience.

It seemed as though time was moving faster because next thing you know, they were pulling to a stop in front of Jimmy and Naomi’s house.

“Thanks man, 'preciate you always!” Jey shook the driver’s hand before wrapping his arm around the girl he met—who none of them still knew her name.

“Come on Jessika, so you can show me uhhh—what you was talking about at the club.” Jey rambled, leading her to the front door and finally revealing the girl's name.

Next was Naomi and Jimmy’s turn to exit the Escalade. “Aight uce, maybe better luck next time?” He was referring to the rather boring and uneventful night.

“Ain’t no next time.” Roman responded, but smirked regardless.

Naomi and Laila then hugged each other goodbye, but before Naomi walked farther up the driveway, she held her hand up like a phone to her ear and mouthed, “Call me tomorrow.”

10 minutes later, the driver pulled to a stop in front of Roman’s luxurious condo. “This is your place?!” Laila gawked as she looked out of the car window.

Roman chuckled getting out and holding the door open for her to get out as well. While she was busy staring in awe at the building, Roman thanked his driver again before he drove off.

The sound of the car engine slowly fading away caught Laila’s attention. “Hey big head. How’d you know that I wanted to come to your house?” She sassily folds her arms over her chest.

“You know, you’re bold when you’re drunk?” Roman puts the key into the lock and twists it open, allowing Laila to enter first.

“Hmph. Maybe I am.” She replies back coolly. He leads her into the guest bathroom. “Stay right here, don’t move.”

Despite her confident nature at the moment, she does just as he says and he re enters with a T-shirt and sweatpants.

“You can change into these to be more comfortable. I’mma get you some water.” He walks down the hallway to his kitchen, getting her a nice cold glass of water.

He noticed her now in the living room, his clothes on her body. It was so attractive. He knows that she could smell him on the clothes.

Walking to the couch she was sat on, he handed her the glass of water and watched as she nearly gulped it all down, wiping her mouth after to catch any drops.

He knew he had to do something.

Do something to let her know that she was his and no one else’s.

That little stunt that idiot tried to pull tonight? Never fucking again. From here on out, everyone would know that she’s his.

They were now staring at each other, looking deeply into one another’s eyes, not saying a word. Both of their breathing was more pronounced, quicker, louder.

“Laila.” He breathed out, slowly leaning in closer to her awaiting lips.

As soon as his mouth came in contact with hers, he knew there would never be another woman out there for him.

He took the lead in the kiss, his lips overtaking hers as his hand came up to rest on the nape of her neck.

Softly kissing her was like heaven and then he added tongue to it.

Roman’s tongue sensually licked her lips, asking for permission to enter. She was a puddle of submission to him as he hooked his hand under her thigh to drag her to straddle his lap as they continued to make out.

Laila’s hands were in his hair, it threatening to fall from his bun, as she sat there and let the man sensually and sloppily kiss her.

There was strings of spit between their lips, their desire physically showing. But that wasn’t the only thing that was physically showing.

Laila moved a certain way and felt the bulge—the huge bulge—in Roman’s black pants. This snapped her out of her reverie and she pulled away.

Roman knows exactly why she pulled away, he noticed everything about her. He knew she hadn’t gone that far with a guy before.

He was the perfect gentleman, not even making a big deal out of it. He just simply kissed her forehead and her knuckles, saying that she could sleep in his bed and that he would take the couch.

As Laila laid in his king-sized bed, it should’ve been the best night of sleep that she got in her life, but the thoughts and flashbacks of the heated actions earlier were enough to keep her awake for an hour before she could actually succumb to sleep.

taglist!: @duhitzkay380 @emotionalhottiee @minsingular @potatosackk @vebner37 @lov3rla03 @romanreignsbae

if you would like to be added to the taglist, just comment and lmk!

[buckystrutssogood]

Tony: Happy Birthday fossil number 2

Bucky: *distracted, staring at his dog tag a little sad * yeah thanks

Tony: …so? What are your plans for today?

Bucky: um, not much. Might take Alpine to the park. *frowns*

Tony: well I mean normally people just get shitfaced drunk and try to forget their sorrows

Bucky: what

Bucky: but I can’t get drunk *frowns*

Tony: *sighs* now that’s a challenge I can’t pass up on cmon let’s go *drags him out to the gym*

Bucky: why are we heading to the gym-

*lights flick open*

*Everyone shouts happy birthday, the gym is cleared out, the decoration makes it look like a bar in from their time,Steve is missing*

Bucky: *swallows, smiles* I- thank you, what is all this I mean *huffs a laugh, giggles at the photo they put up on the posters*

Sam: well we figured the get drunk and cry was too modern for you

Tony: hey it’s a great idea

Sam: and…we know you need a fresh start so why not start with something you have been wanting for a long time

*lights dim, music starts playing*

Bucky: *confused*

Steve: *shows up out of nowhere, he’s dressed in a suit,extends his hand* hey there doll, fancy a dance with me?

Bucky: *laughs, embarrassed* Steve

Steve: what? Cmon there’s people waiting

Bucky: *gives in*

*they walk to the center of the floor, start slow dancing*

Bucky: *with tears in his eyes* thank you

Steve: *also emotional* hush, let me focus before I step on your feet

Bucky: *laughs*

*at the bar*

Clint: is this emotional? This is emotional right? They finally got their time

Tony: yup *coughs to sound okay*

Natasha: *watching them fondly, eyes are shiny*

Sam: it is touching, but did anyone else notice Natasha crying?

Natasha: NO I DIDNT CRY YOU DID

(Had to write something for Bucky birthday 🥳 )

[mani-craft]

my manifestation journey: letting go of time frames

Hello everyone! Because I had gotten some messages with kind words about my last post I decided to talk about some other things that helped me a lot! If you want to hear something else please tell me, I am open to suggestions! I decided to talk about letting go of a time frame for now. This was something that really helped me and did a lot for me in my journey, something that really let a lot of pressure go.

Some people like to say that time isn't 'real' when it comes to manifestation. If you can manifest everything then you can imagine one day to have passed while it felt like it was a whole week. For some people this worked, and if it helps you most definitely do this. For me this was such a simple yet complex concept that I personally didn't use it, at least not consciously.

At first my wishes always had a time frame 'this has to happen in one day', but by putting a time on it I noticed to grow incredibly nervous, to almost obsess over the clock, afraid time would catch up and it meant my manifestation would have 'failed'. I quickly realised it did me no good, and that I had to change it up. I realised that if I wanted it to be in a certain time frame the universe would know and listen anyway, I wouldn't need to specify or think about it; the universe gets it, she knows it all.

Letting go of time, again for me, worked by manifesting small things. Things that were very insignificant to me, or not that important. And I'm talking about very small, like catching a train that seemed unlikely, or class finishing up early. It would be nice, but it's fine if it doesn't happen. I didn't think about wanting it to happen 'today' just 'this class', not thinking about whether it would be the one of today or the one I have next week. The universe gets which one I want, so I don't need to think about it, it doesn't even need to cross my mind.

Insignificant things are easier to let go of, easier to forget. That is what I needed to get proof of manifestation. The moment those small manifestations came to be I realised that belief and fate doesn't come from nothing, it comes from experience. I had to see things for myself in order to know that I can manifest anything. And the moment I learned how to let go and forget because it wasn't 'important' anyway, I figured out what my brain and body does when that happens, eventually being able to recreate it more and more.

The moment I made that click, the moment I started seeing results in those small things, that's when I learned how to manifest more and more, bigger and bigger, more and more important. Eventually you'll get it, you'll not take it all 'too seriously' and finally let go and make it happen.

[rookamell]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the wonderful @serensama thank you!!

I will tag @flowersforthemachines @pixiedurango and anyone else that wants to join I was doing this in a rush but edited tags so I can see more WIPs @saessenach @mythals-whore

From the developing au:

The blood magic might have bothered him more, if it hadn’t saved his and Lucanis’s lives. And frankly, if it had been anyone other than Rook doing it. He wondered where she’d learned, though perhaps living in Tevinter for eight years meant you picked up a thing or two.

Lucanis had better pray to his Maker if he had one word to say about it after he woke up. Davrin wouldn’t even feel bad setting Assan on him.

He grimaced when he entered the library and saw Rook on the couch, asleep. She was clean, at least, her hair dark with moisture and loose against the pillows where she lay, a bandage tied shoddily around her right hand.

Neve was there as well, hands on her hips as she looked over at Davrin.

“I take it confronting Zara went well?” she asked, tucking dark hair behind her ear, one eyebrow raising.

“You figure?”

Neve grinned, almost reluctantly.

“Well,” she said, “You’re covered in enough blood to fill a bathtub, and Rook was tired enough to fall asleep in the middle of the room. And hasn’t woken up from us talking yet.”

“And Lucanis is passed out in the pantry,” Davrin added, more for the look on Neve’s face than anything else.

“We’re alive,” he said, and shrugged before he had to push Assan away from eating his cloak.

That made Neve grin again.

“Good start,” she said, then nodded her head toward Rook. “What happened?”

“Blood magic,” Davrin said, “Lucanis’s deadbeat cousin showing up to make everything worse. What didn’t happen?”

“Good thing Rook was there, then,” Neve said. “If it was that bad.”

“You have no idea,” he said, gazing down at her, asleep on the couch. Shit, she had to be tired if she was still asleep after that whole conversation. He and Neve hadn’t even been keeping their voices down.

“She’ll probably debrief everyone at dinner.”

“I’ll tell Bel she’ll need to cook today,” Neve folded her arms, frowning down at Rook.

Davrin nodded, then started toward the baths again. If he had to spend one more moment covered in this congealed blood…

“Davrin.”

“Yeah, Neve?”

“That cut on her hand,” Neve nodded her head toward Rook’s shoddy bandage job. “Awfully strange place for a wound to be.”

Neve was smart. Too smart. She’d probably already put two and two together.

They won’t hear it from me.

“She saved me and Lucanis,” was all he said. “Not my place to judge how, Neve. Not yours, either.”

“There’s some lines you can’t cross,” Neve said, a scowl on her features. “Not without losing parts of you.”

Next thing you know, you’re standing in a hallway full of corpses.

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. One thing you learn in the Wardens is that the Blight has to be stopped. No matter what. And besides,” he shrugged, and finally, finally, turned towards the baths, determined to make it there this time.

“This is Rook we’re talking about.”

[shizuturnspages]

The mother of diluc is a complete mystery and it is as if she does not exist 🤔🤔

Do you think she's a traveler or witch who erased herself from the memories of others?

Let's say that reader had an open or strange relationship with the father of diluc xD, what kind of relationship mother and son would they have?? (Nobody knows reader, but diluc and kaeya do) Thank you :3 could be yandere if you want

The Forgotten Flame

Synopsis: There was a time when she was nowhere—when her existence had been smudged from history like ink wiped from a page. No portraits. No records. Not even a whisper of her name. And yet, Diluc remembered. Kaeya remembered. Even if no one else did.

A Love Lost in Time

Crepus Ragnvindr had been a man of ambition, but more than that, he had been a man of secrets.

The greatest of them was her—a woman who did not belong to Teyvat, who carried no past, who left no trace but the embers in Diluc’s blood and the ghost of a memory that clung to Kaeya’s mind like a forgotten dream.

To everyone else, she did not exist.

To them, she was everything.

Diluc – The Son Who Remembers

He did not speak of her.

Not because he had forgotten—he couldn’t. Even if he tried, even if he wished to let her go, her presence lingered in his veins, in the fire that burned too bright, too untamed, as if it had never belonged to this world in the first place.

“Diluc.”

His grip on the glass tightened at Kaeya’s voice. The tavern was quiet, the evening lull settling over Angel’s Share like a thick fog.

“She was here again, wasn’t she?” Kaeya mused, twirling his wine absentmindedly.

Diluc didn’t answer.

There was no point in lying.

She was always here.

Not in flesh. Not in voice. But in the way the lanterns flickered when no wind passed, in the way the wine never tasted quite as sweet as it did when she poured it for them.

“I don’t understand why you let her haunt you,” Kaeya continued, his usual jest missing, replaced with something heavier.

Diluc exhaled. Because he was still her son.

Because the world had forgotten her.

But he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Kaeya – The Orphan’s Memory

Kaeya had no mother.

Not really.

And yet, the first time she had pressed a cool hand to his forehead when he was sick, the first time she had looked at him—really looked at him—he had believed, just for a moment, that he could have been hers.

That he could have been theirs.

But it was a lie.

A sweet one, a cruel one, because he remembered her, too.

Even when no one else did.

Even when her name vanished from the manor, when the maids stared at him blankly whenever he mentioned her, when Crepus’ eyes no longer carried the warmth of a man who had once loved something not of this world.

Kaeya remembered.

He remembered the way Diluc clung to her, the way she smelled of something not quite real, the way her eyes shimmered with the kind of knowledge that came from beyond Teyvat’s borders.

He also remembered the way she left.

The way one day, she was simply gone.

And no one but them seemed to care.

The Return of the Forgotten

She never should have come back.

Not when she had spent so long ensuring that the world would never recognize her.

But Mondstadt was still the same, still carrying the scent of wind and grapes, still humming with the distant echoes of laughter that belonged to children who no longer needed her.

And yet—

She felt it before she saw him.

The rage. The hurt.

The fire.

When Diluc stood before her, he did not look surprised. He did not look relieved.

He looked furious.

“Why did you come back?”

His voice was quiet, steady, but she knew better than to mistake that for calm.

“I…” she hesitated.

What could she say? That she missed him? That she regretted it? That she never wanted to leave?

That she had been erased?

But before she could answer, another voice cut through the night.

“Welcome home,” Kaeya murmured, and his smile was sharp, his eyes calculating, as if he were peeling her apart piece by piece.

“Did you miss us?”

There was no warmth in his voice.

Only accusation.

Only the unspoken why did you leave?

Why did you forget us?

But she hadn’t.

Not really.

She just hadn’t realized how much they remembered.

And how much they refused to let go.

[seastarblue]

get blasted with Yap (part 001)

tldr: Kaiden is a victim of Plot and she’s been like this since her late teens. Lloyd is a Jerk as per usual. A big conflict in the story is his constant presence over Kai’s life. ✨Blackmail✨ and I’m ngl this is basically her backstory lmao

the actual blackmail is nearer to the bottom 🙏😭

You already know Kaiden was one of the Azari Knights. Basically… Baby (17-18) Kaiden knows that the Azari is just a knight organization, they go to war and stuff sometimes like the Guard, but they pay way better and they take in people who don't already have connections. (The Guard is pretty corrupt im ngl).

So when she’s approached with an offer (still thinking about the complexities of this) she accepts, because a) ✨job stability✨ and b) ✨money✨, the two things she needs right now (taking care of her brother and all that on her own)

She’s taken in as a squire, and the overseer of the squires notes that shes not. Really There. Her mind is somewhere else. She asks to leave earlier than everyone, too. Mx Overseer takes this to Lloyd, and he takes her into his office, because if theres a problem with a squire they’re taken to the higher up who recruited them (in this case Kai (and maybe Felix too idk) was scouted by Lloyd.)

They have a long talk, and Kaiden confesses she is a) the sole caregiver of a ten year old boy, her brother, and b) she lied about her age when being scouted (the age of adulthood is 20, and as I said she’s only 17-18). She panics, thinking that he’ll fire her in the spot for not being “dedicated enough”, or worse—he’ll throw her in jail for lying. Despite this certainty she begs him to let her stay, and says she’ll do anything. Lloyd will remember this. He calms her down and to her surprise says he’d be willing to help her out (as in hire someone to watch over Isaac, pay rent, this guy is RICH ok) and she gratefully agrees.

and so it begins… Lloyd starts making her do horrible things all in the name of “paying it forward”, dangling Isaac’s wellbeing over her head. Fast forward, Kai’s 24-25, and the incident at Liaba Ridge has disabled her badly. In this time she’s realized that the Azari is not what it’s cracked up to be and that Lloyd has played her like a fiddle.

Her breaking point is when, while in recovery, she demands to know where Felix is. Lloyd simply says something like “He’s not important” or “I care not for the people outside my knighthood.” Then, he has the audacity to ask when she’ll begin working again, on her own as opposed to the traditional pairs the Azari work in.

Kai snaps, she says she’s leaving and theres nothing he can do about it. Every single bit of frustration that’s compiled over the last 5-6 years all comes out at once while she’s in a daze from meds.

A moment.

Then another.

Kai wonders if she’s fucked up.

And Lloyd says “Go right ahead.”

Kai’s confused. Before she can reply she passes out.

When she wakes up from surgery and regains her bearings (maybe a couple weeks) she goes right back to Lloyd’s office and repeats that she will not be staying with the Azari.

He’s like “Yup sure. Bye bish.”

And then she gets kicked escorted out.

She sees Isaac, now aged 16-17 outside. He looks worried.

He tells her they've been evicted. Just that morning, from the apartment a certain someone had been paying the rent for.

Now Kai’s out of a job, her leg hurts, and they have nowhere to sleep. … oh shit moment ig

fast forward, after a few months of Hard Times they eventually meet Selene, she feels bad after hearing their story and bc she has Personal Beef with the Azari she asks her grandmother (the Guildmaster) to take them in. She agrees, and the two are given a home.

Now. I said this was on the topic of blackmail! I feel like yall needed some context so there that is. Here’s where the actual stuff comes in:

Soon after, something (inciting incident) happens to Kai which leads to her being back in Lloyd’s office. He offers her her place back. She wants to refuse, she wants to never see this horrid man’s face again, but. Alas.

According to him, she owes him. For the help in her younger years, for dealing with her mishaps as a knight, for the effort from the healers to bring her back from the brink of death. So she has no choice. It’s either this, or he’ll burn that damned guild—that second home, the one that gave her a second chance—to the ground.

What can she do? She knows he’ll do it. After all, he’s already messed up her life in more ways than one. Who’s to stop him from ruining others’s?

———

yay yap done ^^

i felt far too silly doing this sob