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laurenairay · 6 months ago

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felt like magic - N. Hischier

Summary: Nico has been pining for years – maybe this summer is a chance to finally do something about his feelings for you.

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange 2k24, with a Nico Hischier story for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten! I really hope you enjoy this – I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me. And who doesn’t love Summer Nico?

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: pining, childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, some bad language

Title (and song lyrics) from Caffeine, by Jack Kays

Stay with me, If it’s not our time then will you wait for me? I know that we’re young, but this is destiny I couldn’t be me without you, without you

Travelling from Bern to Zurich wasn’t something you’d do for just anyone. An hour and a half driving across the country, surrounded by drivers who were just as impatient to get through their journeys as you were? Not your idea of fun. At least the destination was more than worth it.

“Happy birthday Jonas!”

The man in question turned around at the sound of your voice, a big grin sliding onto his face.

“You made it, liebling! Thanks for coming!” Jonas said happily.

It wasn’t every year that you got to celebrate the birthday of one of your favourite people – early May wasn’t exactly the most consistent time of year for hockey players after all. And the last thing you wanted to do was remind him of the early end to his season. So when Jonas had called you to say that he was hosting a birthday party at his house in Zurich and invited you to spend the weekend, there was no way you were saying no.

“As if I’d miss the event of the summer,” you teased.

Jonas just beamed at you.

“Schatzi! You survived the A1!”

You peered around Jonas’s broad shoulders to see another one of your favourite people – Nico. It was through Nico, one of your childhood best friends – that you’d met Jonas in the first place so you should’ve guessed that he wouldn’t be too far away. Usually you would’ve made the journey with Nico, both of you coming from Bern after all, but he’d already been visiting in Zurich so you’d been stuck with a solo trip this time.

And damn did he look good. It wasn’t something that you let yourself think about often, being just his friend, but Nico was genuinely one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen, let alone become good friends with. It wouldn’t do you any good to travel down that road of thoughts though, so you were always careful to nip those feelings in the bud. You were friends. Great friends. Incredible friends, and that’s how it was always going to be.

“I’m here,” you mused, “had to greet the birthday boy before anyone else.”

“Yeah don’t be jealous,” Jonas teased.

Interestingly, Nico blushed slightly and glared at the taller man, before clearing his throat. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll grab something myself in a minute, but thank you,” you said, smiling sweetly, “Let me just give Jonas his birthday present first.”

You handed over the thick envelope, Jonas eagerly ripping into it, making you laugh softly.

“Oh shit, you’re the best,” Jonas gasped.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased.

“What did you get?” Nico asked, curious.

“A tattoo voucher. Far more than enough to cover the gap fillers I’ve been looking at getting. This is amazing, thank you, this is way too generous,” Jonas explained, looking gratefully at you.

“You’re welcome. I know you’ve been talking about filling the spaces for a while,” you shrugged.

While you didn’t have any tattoos of your own, you knew how Nico and Jonas felt about their own tattoos, and how much they meant to them – it was an easy decision.

“Are we ever going to get you into a tattoo chair, hm?” Nico teased.

“Maybe if I have someone holding my hand,” you teased back, trying to fight the giddy heat rising to your cheeks.

His lips parted slightly in shock, speechless for once, Jonas just cackling at his response.

“And on that note, I’m going to go say hi to Andreas and Julia. See you both later?” you grinned.

“Yeah, see you liebling,” Jonas nodded.

Nico just nodded, cheeks aflame. His silence was a bit concerning – he wasn’t exactly one to be shy or awkward, especially not around you – but you knew Jonas would figure out whatever was going on with him. Hopefully.

“So that was smooth,” Jonas mused.

“Shut up,” Nico groaned.

“No really, that was one of your best efforts,” Jonas snickered.

“You’re the worst,” Nico shot back.

He ran a hand through his hair, watching you walk across the backyard with a confidence he wished he had. There was just something about you that had always reduced him to feeling like a hapless fool, ever since he’d first moved to Bern as a teenager and met you within the first few weeks of living there. You’d been a constant feature in his life for 10 years now, always there with a wide smile and open arms whether it was in Bern, Zurich, or New Jersey, and he didn’t know what he would do with his life if you weren’t in it.

Nico was head over heels in love with you, and you had no idea.

Everyone else in his life knew how he felt for you, obviously, not just Jonas. His parents, his siblings, even Jack had figured it out within an hour of your first visit to New Jersey all those years ago. If Jack Hughes of all people could read it off his face then he didn’t know how much more obvious he could be – other than actually telling you with words, of course.

But how could he say anything to you, when he knew for certain that you didn’t feel the same way?

“Are you sure your billet family don’t mind us being down here?”

Nico smiled down at you, shaking his head. The two of you were down in the basement where his billet family’s entertainment room was, the rest of the house having gone out for the night, and Nico had invited you round for a movie night. He’d only been in Bern for a few weeks, and you were the only non-hockey friend he’d made so far, so he hadn’t hesitated to invite you over to get to know you better.

There was just something about you that made him want to put in the effort

“They really don’t mind. They even left us money for takeout,” he insisted.

“Oh, well alright then. What are we watching first?”

The evening flew by, pizza ravenously consumed between movies, the two of you shifting closer and closer on the sofa until you were fully leaning up against each other, Nico’s hockey bulk giving you a solid pillow to rest on. He didn’t mind it at all, if he was being honest with himself, although he wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

“That was so terrible though! They had no chemistry at all!” you giggled as the credits rolled.

“I guess not all actors are going to like kissing everyone they work with,” Nico snickered.

Even in the dim light of the room, he noticed the heat that rushed to your cheeks.

“What?” Nico frowned.

“It’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head quickly.

He might not know you that well yet, but he knew that was a lie.

“Come on, tell me what’s wrong?” he prompted.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“We’re 15 years old – everything we do is stupid,” Nico pointed out.

You huffed out a laugh, breath a little shaky. “I was just thinking about the fact that I wouldn’t know what it was like.”

“What what was like?” Nico asked, confused.

“To kiss someone,” you all but whispered.

His lips parted in surprise, not expecting those words to fall from your lips, and you immediately grimaced.

“See I told you it was stupid,” you groaned.

As you shifted to move away from him, Nico instinctively gripped your shoulder, not letting you go. You startled but looked up at him, staying silent in confusion.

“It’s not stupid. Not everyone has had their first kiss. You’re only 15,” he murmured.

“You’ve kissed someone though?”

Nico bit his bottom lip but nodded. He’d had multiple kisses, all harmless, all essentially meaningless, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Kissing was fun – he always liked the way it made his heart race with adrenaline.

And it was the memory of that feeling that fuelled his bravery.

“I could kiss you, if you want?”

“What?”

He took a steadying breath, before nodding. “I could kiss you. So you have a good first kiss, with a friend.”

There was nothing worse than doing something scary for the first time only to have someone make you feel like an idiot. If Nico could stop that feeling for you, then he absolutely would.

“Are you sure?” you said hesitantly, “You really don’t have to.”

“Of course I am,” he said, smiling to reassure you.

He could feel how fast your heart was beating as he rested a hand on the side of your neck, echoing the beating of his own heart. You closed your eyes as he leaned down towards you, making him smile slightly before he pressed his lips to yours. As he slowly kissed you, he could feel how hesitant and nervous you were, but as you continued to kiss him back he didn’t regret his offer for a moment. Nico kissed you over and over and over again, almost feeling dizzy with how the embrace was consuming him, his thumb stroking over your jaw as you melted into his arms. This was heaven. This was bliss. This was everything he didn’t realise he’d wanted.

After what felt like hours, but could only have been a few moments, you pulled away from the kiss. Nico made a soft noise of protest, opening his eyes to see you looking stunned, lips as swollen as his felt.

“Schatzi,” he managed to murmur.

You just bit your bottom lip, smiling softly, before leaning backwards out of his hands. He tried not to frown, not understanding why his heart was pounding, even though you didn’t look mad.

“I should probably get home. My parents will be wondering where I am by now,” you said, voice quiet, almost as if you were still a little in shock.

Nico glanced at the clock on the wall, grimacing at the late hour. Where had the time gone? Did you really have to leave, after a kiss like that?

“O-Okay, if you’re sure. Text me when you get back safe?”

“I will. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

After that kiss 10 years ago, the two of you had never spoken about it again. The morning after you’d acted like nothing had ever happened, and Nico had been too nervous to say anything to risk losing the blossoming friendship. He knew now that it was his first experience of heartbreak, as youthful and innocent as that had been – and he also knew that’s when he’d first started having feelings for you. What was meant to have been a friend helping out another friend had started a decade of unrequited feelings, and it was far too late for him to say anything now.

He could only hold on to the incredible friendship that had grown between the two of you with both hands. If this was all he could ever have then he was going to cherish it, no matter how what Jonas said.

“Come on bud, let’s get you a drink,” Jonas said, smiling sadly.

Nico huffed out a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m going to need one.”

Hours passed by, drinking, eating, catching up with friends and making new ones, until the evening was late and only the last few straggling partygoers were making their way out of the house. You’d volunteered to start cleaning up while Jonas said goodbye to his guests, needing something to do after a long day of socialising. You were making good progress on cleaning up the empty food containers and empty drink bottles when Nico wandered into the living room, holding out a bottle of water for you.

“Looks like thirsty work,” he grinned, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

“Thanks, you should try it some time,” you teased, taking the bottle from him.

You unscrewed the cap and took a couple of long gulps with your head tilted back, needing the refreshment more than you thought, but when you put the cap back on the bottle, you noticed Nico staring at you transfixed.

“What?” you frowned, “Did I spill some water?”

“No, no, it isn’t that,” he said quickly, cheeks heating.

Why was he blushing? What was going through his mind?

“Then what is it?” you prompted, putting the bottle down on the table.

“It’s just…I was thinking about…well…”

“Yes?” you prompted again, a soft smile on your face at his awkwardness.

“It wouldn’t take a tattoo for me to hold your hand,” he blurted out.

“What?”

What was he talking about…oh. Oh. What?

“Wait, shit, no, that came out wrong…”

Nico trailed off with a groan, punctuated only by the sound of a snort. You whirled around to see Jonas standing in the doorway, and he cackled at the look on both your faces.

“Yeah I’m going upstairs. Have fun dealing with your years of feelings,” Jonas grinned, shaking his head.

Oh damn. Jonas knew?

Wait, years of feelings?

With that he left you and Nico alone, a murmur suspiciously sounding like ‘lovestruck idiots’ lingering behind him. Hesitantly you looked back at Nico to see his face full of embarrassment, cheeks tinged with red.

“What was Jonas talking about?” you asked, voice a little shaky.

Because you were damn sure that Jonas didn’t know a thing about how you felt for Nico. So he had to be talking about Nico…which only succeeded in sending your heart into a flutter.

“This was not how I wanted it all to come out,” he murmured.

“Nico, please. No more talking in circles,” you all but begged.

He inhaled shakily but nodded, finally looking you in the eyes once more. “I’ve loved you ever since the movie night where we kissed.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “That was 10 years ago, Nico. We were 15! You’ve loved me since then?”

Ten long years.

“I know,” he winced, “But yes, since then.”

“You never said anything?” you said hesitantly.

Not about the kiss, and not about his feelings.

“You didn’t either? I mean, like, we never talked about the kiss. At all. I just assumed you didn’t say anything because you regretted it, and there was no way I wanted to lose you as a friend,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Of all the things he could’ve said.

“I thought you regretted it,” you admitted, “You were this up-and-coming hockey star, and I was just the neighbour down the street.”

Nico burst out laughing, hands rising to cover his face briefly.

“We’re both idiots,” he managed to choke out between laughs, “maybe me more than you.”

Maybe.

Maybe you both were idiots, but that didn’t mean you had to waste any more time. If Nico really wanted to try being more than friends, you weren’t about to stop him.

“Hey Nico?” you said, reaching forward to place a hand on his chest.

You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart, but it was the hope in his eyes that gave you courage.

“Yes, schatzi?”

“It’s been a long ten years…kiss me again?”

Nico’s only response was to do as you’d asked.

I’m sitting patiently, Hoping for the day to come where you can see, All the stars, they fall in line for you and me, I can’t wait for you to see too, yes, you’ll do.

#my writing #nico hischier fic #the summer fic exchange 2k24 #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fanfic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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gillanfryingpan · 1 year ago

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For The Forgotten Ones is completed, I haven’t read the final chapter yet because I wanted to finish this first

Buddy thank you so much for this wonderful story, I know I keep saying it but it genuinely changed my life. I hadn’t been in the Undertale fandom since about 2017, it was my first fandom experience so it was very special to me, but I left it far behind. at the start of this year I stumbled upon Calcium-cat’s comic based on the first chapter, and I found my way to this fic and read I think seven chapters in one night LOL. I had to stop because it was so late, but afterwards I sat in the dark of my room and just, felt. this fic felt like the peak of the old Undertale fandom, it was almost overwhelming (in the best way). all these emotions and this energy that I hadn’t felt in years all came rushing back it was like magic. like rediscovering the meaning of life. I know that sounds ridiculous and cheesy but Undertale genuinely made me who I am, it was my first fandom, drew my first fanart and wrote my first fan fiction and went to my first con and made friends and discovered this whole community that made me feel like me. and this story is interwoven with all of that. it feels like Home.

because of this fic I gained the motivation to create SO MUCH art, my skills have developed so much and I genuinely love my art now when I didn’t really before. I’ve found my style bc of you :) I’ve also gained an actual following now that continues to grow which is a dream come true since I first joined the internet. and I’ve made so many wonderful friends, I’ve got a group that came together bc of this fic and they’re all such wonderful people that I may never have met otherwise.

I’ve still got so many screenshots and ideas to draw for this fic so I’ll be appreciating it for a long time still, but this is a thank you, a gift and an appreciation for all that you’ve done. you consistently uploaded a sizeable chapter EVERY WEEK which is INSANE, your dedication is so inspiring. you created a beautiful world and characterized all these popular characters so well, especially when mischaracterizations have become the fandom canon atp (looks at Swap Sans,,,) you did so much. you created a family we all adored, we laughed and cried and prayed and joked and created this wonderful community within a wonderful community just to appreciate your words. truly effing masterful. I love For The Forgotten Ones, I will print it out into a book someday soon, to put it on my shelf where I can see it always. Thank you thank you thank you I’ve said so many words and still I feel I have not expressed the depths of my feelings

oh well

I gotta post this sometime lol

ok bye :) 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

(and to anyone else who reads this, this art is also going to be my dtiys event but I’ll make a separate post for that !!!! it’ll be going on until the end of November)

For The Forgotten Ones by Im_Sorry_Buddy

Ink!Sans and Aster by @comyet

Nightmare!Sans and Dream!Sans by @jokublog

Geno!Sans and Error!Sans by @loverofpiggies

Killer!Sans by @rahafwabas

Cross!Sans by @jakei95

Blue/Swap!Sans by p0pcornpr1nce

Dust/Murder!Sans and Phantom!Papyrus by @ask-dusttale

Horror!Sans by @horrortalecomic (Sour-Apple-Studios)

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citrusandcyanide · 1 year ago

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Can't Lose You | L.G.

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f!reader

an. This is my first fic since switching back to this blog and it's also my first Lip fic. I'm So happy to be writing again :,) . This idea won the poll but I'm still cooking up the rest. This will probably be 2-3 parts long. First part is mostly just background, but still got some angst. Would love feedback <3

Synopsis. College decisions are being sent out. Lip doesn't want to go to college unlike his best friend who has her mind set on leaving Chicago and her feelings for Lip behind.

words. 3k

Warnings. Unrequited feelings. angst, smoking, drinking, and angry lip.

Part 2 Part 3 (final)

“I got in,” Lip said standing in the doorway of his best friend's bedroom. You were laying on your bed with a book in your hand when he appeared suddenly in your room. Sitting up, you put the book down and turned towards the door. You gave Lip a confused look as he walks towards you. He sits on the bed beside you before continuing. “MIT. I got in.”

“Mandy’s application really worked huh?” You were shocked. The situation was almost amusing. Mandy had submitted five college applications in his name. She told you before submitting them, even going as far as asking you to look over them to make sure they were good. Of course when you went to tell her the plagiarism was evident, she cursed you out and left offended. It was funny that one of them worked, but part of you was genuinely shocked. This meant an escape for Lip. A real chance of leaving Chicago and the south side behind, to move on and up. You were genuinely happy, excited even. Lip, on the other hand, didn’t look excited. It was clear by his expression that he was shocked, maybe even a little proud. But he also seemed unimpressed by the prospect of what this meant for his future.

“You going?” You asked, hopeful that the answer would be yes. You contained your excitement, seeing that he was still unsure if this was good news.

“Nah. You know I hate the Red Socks” Lip replied, earning a scoff from you.

“That’s bullshit,” you replied, smacking him on the arm with the book you were reading. “Well, what about the others? Mandy said she was applying to five.”

“Got three rejections, but uh, UChicago let me in,” He laid back on the bed, using his arm to prop him up. “And I’ve been thinking of all the shit you said about College being important and all.”

“And?” you said, now looking down at him. You were hoping he would say he was going. Lip was one of the smartest people you know, but also the dumbest. He had an amazing brain but had no clue how to use it sometimes. It was the cause of the biggest tension in your friendship. You were just as smart as Lip, but it didn’t come so easy to you. You were a hard worker, but only because you had to be. It was the only way you saw yourself surviving. To get into college meant an escape from the Southside life and struggles. It was important to you. Lip knew it. He had to listen for the last two years as you stressed out over formulating the applications. He also had to witness a few panic attacks caused by it. College stood on an almost unreachable pedestal, but nothing could convince you you couldn’t reach it.

You tried your hardest to convince Lip to at least try for the dream, but he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t try. And yet the opportunity still was handed to him on a silver platter, like everything good in his life. Here he was, being handed salvation, and he was still going to deny it. A part of you was angry at that, but it was useless being frustrated with him.

You couldn’t help but think about Mandy. If he really was considering going to college, it wouldn’t be because of you. It was because of Mandy. Lip may be your best friend, but Mandy has had all his attention recently. You told him to apply to college. Lip refused. Mandy applied for him and now he listens.

It just added to how much you wanted to leave. Everytime you saw Mandy, you had to endure listening to her talk about Lip. The two of you were friends of course. You were thrilled to see her happy, but it still stung seeing her get to Lip instead of you. Lip, the boy down the street, your best friend since your parents moved in when you were young. The boy who stuck by your side through elementary and middle school when it was difficult to make other friends. The boy who took your first kiss in front of the whole school when other girls teased you for not having it yet. During middle school dances, the one who would sit on the bleachers with you instead of dancing. Who you’d spend all your time with. The one who’d sneak you out of your house late at night to smoke joints under the L. The boy you couldn’t help but love.

He knew it, and you knew he did. It became all too obvious in high school. Lip had started dating girls fairly quickly. He’d spend more nights busy with other girls. It interrupted the time you got to spend together. You understood he had needs and you weren’t exactly wanting to become fuck buddies. So you let it be, trying to ignore the jealous pit in your stomach.

It all boiled up until one day near the end of sophomore year. The two of you had made plans to hang out at his house, order some food and get high. When you got there, he wasn’t home. Ian and Fiona said they didn’t know where he was. You decided to wait awhile. Debbie had recruited you to play with dolls. When he got back, you had helped yourself to a bag of chips and a soda. He wasn’t alone. A girl you recognized from physics class was strung on his arm. He freezed when he made eye contact with you from your position on the couch. You heard him mutter “shit” under his breath. Your gaze shifted between the girl and Lip. You were beyond irritated, but you refused to show it. Instead you turned your head to the tv.

“You gonna introduce us, Lip?” You asked, breaking the silence. He didn’t reply. The girl did instead.

“Um, I’m Jenny… we know eachother from class,” Her tone was awkward, but you could tell she was genuinely trying to be nice. There was a small giggle when she spoke “I’m Lips girlfriend now.”

Your head shot back up to look at Lip. Your eyes were wide. He didn’t tell you anything about this. He hadn’t even mentioned her to you before, let alone give you a heads up that he was gonna ditch you to spend time with her. Lip avoided your eyes. You were boiling now and Lip could feel it radiating off of you.

“You could have told me you were bringing company. I would have brought more weed,” You said, the bitterness clearly evident in your tone.

“Gross. I don’t smoke,” Jenny replied disgusted. You raised your eyebrows and nodded.

“Real keeper, Lip,” You gave him a sarcastic smile. He scoffed.

“Just go home, kid. We’ll talk tomorrow, Okay?” Lip said before telling Jenny to go up the stairs to his room. You didn’t move from the couch.

“No, I’ve been waiting here for hours. You could have at least given me a heads up that you were going to cancel. I could have gone home.”

“Yeah, well, I’m telling you to do that now,” His voice had grown agitated.

“What is up with you lately? We’ve barely seen eachother and the one day you suggest we actually hang out, you ditch me. Not cool, Gallagher.”

“Give me a break,” He said running a hand through his hair. His leg was bounced anxiously. He kept looking back up the stairs to make sure Jenny was out of earshot.

“Like that isn’t what I been doing,” You sat up to face him properly. “I’m trying to be understanding, but honestly I feel kind of neglected. We’re best friends, I think our friendship deserve a little effort put in to it, you know.”

“Jesus, (Y/N). I’ve got a gorgeous girl waiting for me on my bed right now. Can this PLEASE wait till tomorrow?” Blood was starting to rush to his face. He wasn’t asking. He was ordering. It was like a hit to the chest, but it only fueled your anger.

“Could anything be more important to you than pussy, Lip,” You hissed. Your voice was getting louder with every sentence. “Certainly not your friends because you would have kept your dick in your pants for ONE fucking night to hang out with them.”

“FUCK OFF, (Y/N),” He was fully yelling at this point. “It’s your issue for waiting so long. I can’t spend every day with you. You’re not the only person in my life. You don’t get to control how I spend my time! Fuck, you’re not my girlfriend. Stop expecting to be treated like you are.”

“I am well-fucking-aware I’m not your girlfriend. You remind me every fucking day,” you screamed. Your vision blurred as tears began running down your face. You scowled at him. There was a moment of silence as you both realized what you said. Lip grew confused, his face contorted as he was trying to understand what was happening. Everything became dizzy. You took a deep breath and stepped back. You quickly gathered your stuff, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “Moments like these make wonder why I even want to be.”

Lip was silent. He stared at the floor now. You waited for him to say something. Inside you were begging him to say something. Anything, to cut your embarrassment. He didn’t speak. So you left, wishing you had listened when he told you earlier.

“God sometimes I really fucking hate you, Gallagher.”

He showed up at your door the morning after to apologize. You both sat on your porch steps to talk. “She dumped me after you left. She, uh, heard how upset you were. Said something about ‘girls support girls’ and left.’”

You laughed a little, but didn’t say anything. You were still really embarrassed about last night. An angry confession was not how you ever imagined Lip to find out about your crush. You let him speak.

“Listen, I’m sorry for how I acted last night. How I’ve been acting. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected,” Lip said, fiddling with the pack of cigarettes in his hand. You both were facing the house across the street, refusing to look at eachother. “And I’m sorry I blew you off. I take responsibility for that and promise I won’t do it again.”

“Thank you,” You said quietly. This wasn’t your first fight with Lip. You’d have an argument, one of you would storm out, but by morning the other would always be waiting outside eachothers’ doors to apologize. This was just another one of those mornings. The difference was now he knew that you wished you were dating. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said that… stuff.”

“Oh what? About wanting to be my girlfriend?” Lip looked at you and smirked. He took a cig out the box and put it between his lips. You groaned and put your head in your hands. Part of you was relieved he could joke about it. A bigger part of you was mortified.

“We can like erase that from our memories. Please,” You pleaded. “I really prefer it if we never bring it up again.”

Lip nodded. He offered you the box. You took a cigarette and reached for the lighter in your back pocket before lighting it. Lip took the lighter from you and did the same.

“You know I don’t think it’s a good idea,” He said after a moment of silence. You looked at him with a pained look on your face. You felt your chest tighten. “The dating thing. I don’t like the idea.”

“Way to rip my heart out of my chest,” You scoffed a little. You turned your face away from him. You didn’t want to lie. You felt your heart break a little at your words. There you were still hoping a part of him would like the idea. You should have prepared yourself for the rejection.

“I don’t mean it like that.” He was looking at you fully now. “You’re too good for me, (Y/L/N).”

“We’re good the way we are now. I don’t want to ruin that. If we date, we’ll break up, and hate each other. It’ll never be the same. This is better. Safer,” He continued once you looked back at him. “In short… I can’t lose you.”

With that, you never talked about it again. Your feelings never dissolved, but you also never did anything about them. The conversation left you with some hope he felt the same, even if it wasn’t as much as you liked him. He kept quiet too, respecting your feelings. He never joked about it again. He kept his promise and spent more time with you, all until Karen and Mandy. You stayed clear of Karen all together, not wanting to get messed up in her shit, but Mandy was your friend. You weren’t going to abandon her because she started dating your best friend. She didn’t know about your feelings. No one did except you and Lip.

Lip was the only thing tethering you to Chicago, but he was spending less and less time with you again as senior year was coming to an end. You tried to move on, but this boy was genuinely the only person you could tolerate in your high school. The prospect of college meant the chance to forget your feelings for him. If Lip left for college, maybe you’d both move on for good. You’d be too busy with college to bother with each other. High school was a nightmare with your unrequited feelings for Philip Gallagher and you were sick of it.

“Did you get any news back?” Lip asked you. He was fully laying on your bed now. You looked at him and shook your head.

“Few rejections, but I haven’t heard from my reach school yet,” you replied, shifting your position so he could lay more comfortably.

“They’d be stupid to reject you,” he responded. He picked up the book you were reading to examine it.

“Yeah we’ll see,” you shrugged. “I hear back from my dream school any day now. SAIC let me in though.”

“At the art institute?” Lip looked back at you as he asked. “I thought you don’t want to go to school in Chicago.”

“I don’t, but thought I’d give it a shot. I enjoy the campus, and the museum is a big plus.”

“You know I’d hate to have you leave me here, (Y/L/N),” Lip said, looking back at the ceiling. Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You shrugged it off and tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. He can’t say that shit. Not when he’s the only one who could convince me to stay.

“If you go to Massachusetts, you’d be leaving too, Loser. We’d be even.” You sighed. “Besides, I got my eyes set on California. No way am I tolerating another winter here.”

The conversation ended at that. Lip stayed over until it was dark. Before leaving, he brought up a new topic.

“You heard about the school dance next Friday?” He asked practically halfway out the door. You nodded. “Interested in going at all?”

“Are you not taking Mandy?” You asked back. Lip shook his head in reply.

“She’s busy that night. I thought it’d be fun to go just you and me, like we used to.”

“And get high on the fields? Can’t we do that anywhere else?” You asked, grimacing.

Lip scoffed and shook his head. “It’s the last dance of high school. I thought that’d mean something to you. For old times sake.”

You smiled. You liked being asked to go. You hadn’t gone to many dances since high school started. It would be nice to have a night with the two of you without Mandy. You could pretend that nothing had changed since you were kids.

—

Of course things had to change, and they were about to. You were at your mailbox holding your Berkeley acceptance in hand. The paper seemed to glow. This was it. Your ticket out of here. You practically fell to your knees reading it. Your hands were shaking too much to read anymore than the congratulations written at the top of the page. Time slowed as you began to imagine a life outside of Chicago. Your life away from the South Side, away from your school, away from your family, away from Lip. It was hard to imagine what that would look like. Lip had been by your side through everything. You grew up together. All your core memories involved him. Moving was what you wanted but you couldn’t help but grieve your time with Lip. But leaving was necessary, you couldn’t live ignoring your feelings any longer. You had to go.

You stayed at your mail box for a while. Your eyes stayed glued to the acceptance letter until you heard a familiar voice call out to you from a few houses down.

“You okay there, (Y/N)?” Lip shouts, standing in his front yard. His sudden presence snaps you out of your thoughts. You folded the paper up and shoved it back in the envelope before walking over to the Gallagher home.

“Totally fine,” You half smiled, opening the gate to enter his yard. You tried desperately to shake off your visible grief. You just wanted to celebrate and spend time with your best friend. “Great even. I need a drink.”

Lip let out a laugh and let you inside. With no further questions, you entered the house, grabbed two beers out of the fridge and made your way up the stairs into Lip’s room. Meanwhile, Lip’s eyes never left the envelope that you held in your hand.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher x y/n #shameless #jeremy allen white #shameless us #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher angst #shameless x reader #phillip gallagher

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star-centric · 6 months ago

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Knock, Knock

PAIRING: Adam Barrett/Frank x Gender Neutral!Reader

SUMMARY: You’re more than pissed when Frank shows up at your door step in the middle of the night, but something seems different about this visit than the previous ones. All you want is sleep- but the former detective is on a mission and doesn’t plan on leaving until he gets what he came for.

NOTE: LISTENNNNNNN- this movie has me in a chokehold BAD. Take this random (and very self-indulgent) idea that came out of nowhere but has been in my head for the last 4+ months (and I also think this may be the longest fic I’ve ever written??) Graphics by @/firefly-graphics- enjoy!!

CW: heavy suggestive themes (still not nsfw- but it’s mentioned that you and Frank used to be fwb), SPOILERS FOR THE FINAL ACT OF THE MOVIE, blood, violence, language (Frank has a potty mouth), hints of possessiveness from Frank, Reader knows his real name but Frank will still be called Frank for the sake of plot purposes (minus one time)

There’s two knocks to your front door.

A quick check on your phone shows that it’s way after midnight. Your mind is still trying to wake up when you stomp towards the door, irritation growing when there’s three more persistent knocks. You practically rip the door open, curses already lined up on your tongue-

You’re stumped when you see that it’s Frank.

The man still had his hand up mid knock, the little shock lining his face soon morphing into his usual stiff expression. “Took you long enough.”

“It’s 1 in the morning, what do you expect?” You don’t bother hiding your bitterness, eyes narrowed and hand already in position to slam the door shut in his face. But you couldn’t hide your curiosity as to why he’s here to begin with.

The last you’ve seen Frank was months ago, when you were working with him on an undercover job. He was as much as a prick then than he is now, but somehow, you grew to find him tolerable as time passed. Maybe it was because of how confident he was, never doubting himself and having a level head in the face of danger. Combine that and what how attractive he was, and you could see why you put up with him.

But you fell out of contact with him afterwards, the little messages shared between you both falling silent. You’ve thought it was for the best anyways. It was just an (occasional) hookup after all. But seeing him on your doorstep still has you shaken that he came to you.

Frank is quick to bite back at your snark with his own, “Well that’s never stopped you before.” He places his palm on the door- no doubt trying to stop you from your previous plan. He acts like he’s confused before he leans forward, whispering, “As a matter of fact, I don’t think that’s stopped you at all. Especially when you were looking for a quick fu-“

“Do you need something? Cause if you don’t, you can leave.” You interrupt him. It was no secret that you both have hooked up more than once, but you weren’t going to walk down memory lane with him about it. You don’t have to play his games- you have to get up in less than 6 hours, and you rather not have to deal with Frank being an asshole on your off time.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

A beat of silence passed, you guarding the door with your arms crossed while Frank stood with his hands in his pockets. “So what is it?”

He gestures to the door, “What- you’re not gonna let me in?”

A petty part of you didn’t want to, instead wanting to leave him to waste his time like he was doing yours. “What’s the difference between saying it here and inside?”

“That I’m not a fucking dog for one.”

“Hm…I’m not convinced.”

Frank rolls his eyes and sighs. The flash of frustration that crosses his face is satisfying. “Look- I need to talk to you and it’s important okay? I don’t have time to waste- so can I come in or what?”

This is one of the few moments that seemed genuine coming from him, his eyes betraying his sincerity despite the displeasure dripping from his voice.

You begrudgingly step aside, heaving a sigh of your own and telling him to come in. Frank mutters something under his breath while you lock the door behind him.

“You haven’t changed much.”

“I can say the same about you.” You remark, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “Only difference is that now you’re a real criminal instead of pretending to be one like before.”

Peeking into Frank’s files wasn’t difficult, no matter how much he tried to keep it hidden. Working in intel has its perks- seeing the once decorated detective fall into the life of crime was a little jarring, but a tiny part of you wasn’t surprised. He seemed like he played the undercover role a bit too well at time.

But he’s been off the grid for months afterwards- it was hard even for you to find a trace of the former detective (which you never did).

“What, you missed me that bad that you had to be nosy?”

“You had to know that I was gonna snoop around- it’s my job literally. And you’re the one that came to me, so you’re the one that misses me, Adam.”

Frank stepped close to you, enough that you could smell the same cologne that would be left your sheets. “You still got a mouth on you- always got something to fuckin’ say.”

His hand crawled up your neck as he spoke, a chill going down your spine. The icy touch from his hand did nothing to cool you, which was growing hotter as his fingers trailed along your skin. Frank lightly squeezed your throat, a deep jolt striking in the pit of your stomach. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering over yours.

You could pull away, tell him to forget about whatever he needed help with, kick him out and tell him to go to Hell all in one. Frank is an asshole, one that you shouldn’t be entertaining and one that you definitely shouldn’t be pining over.

Yet whatever rebuttal you had died down when you lurched forward, connecting your lips with his.

You could tell he was caught off guard when you felt his body tense up. But he soon began to relax into the kiss.

Frank has never been one to not be in control, and he was proving that now. His tongue swiped at the bottom of your lip and you didn’t hesitate to lower it. There was a battle for dominance that you would always lose against him to. He didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath- it was a battle of dominance that you would always lose to.

You didn’t realize that you made your way to the bedroom until your back hit the sheets, Frank hovering above you, his glasses already abandoned. He never broke away from you, lips traveling down your neck while his hands trailed your body, dipping lower and lower.

It was getting harder to fight your moans, not wanting to give Frank the satisfaction. The bites on your neck were sending pleasurable chills down your spine. You were sure that you’ll have marks in the morning (nothing new) but you don’t remember him being so rough-

“Ow!”

You hissed, gripping Frank’s shoulders and pushing him away. A sharp pain left your neck throbbing. You brought your fingers to it, seeing spots of crimson decorating the tips. It snapped you out of your haze, both of you sitting up.

“Jesus Frank!” You sat up, concern etched on your face. You tapped your fingers against your neck again, feeling the blood come down to your collarbone, not noticing his eyes following the trail.

You wiped at your neck, more of the crimson leaving a mark. You’re kicking yourself for inviting him in- nothing ever came good from getting involved with Frank (the sex would be the only bonus, but even then that high was just temporary). You went to grab a first aid kit, grumbling under your breath how he was able to nick you so easily when he grabbed at your wrist.

Frank didn’t pay you any mind, instead bringing your fingers- stained with your drying blood- up to his lips. He moaned, lightly dragging his tongue across your fingertips. You snatched your hand away, scooting away from him while your stomach twisted into knots.

But Frank didn’t seem deterred by your horror. He groaned, licking his lips and savoring the taste.

Frank had his kinks, but this one was new. And the look in his eyes terrified you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You curled your body away from his.

He didn’t answer you right away, which filled you with unease.

“Ya know, I tried to be patient with you, I really did, but after tasting that- fuck it. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

The world spun and you found yourself pinned down on the bed again.

A scream was caught in your throat when you locked eyes with Frank- or what was suppose to be Frank.

Large, sharp protruding teeth met your sight. This had to be some sort of joke, right? A very hyper realistic dream from all of the late hours you’ve been pulling on the job.

But no matter how hard you blinked, Frank was still there on top of you, his cold hands constraining you to the bed, claws digging into your wrists.

“If you could see the look on your face.” He chuckled.

A million thoughts are running through your mind, breath catching when Frank drags a claw along your aching neck, you hissing in pain.

“I can hear your heart beating so fast from here,” he bent down, smelling and then grinning into your throat. “And I can smell it- your fear. You’re scared shitless aren’t you?” He asked, but you both already knew the answer.

You flinched, trying to hold in a whimper when he brought his tongue out again, tracing the congealed blood alongside your neck.

“What are you?” You croaked out.

“Isn’t it obvious sweetheart?” He tapped your temple with his sharpened nail. “Use that little brain of yours like you’re used to. I’m a vampire- and you got Lambert to thank for that.”

You were never a huge believer in the supernatural. Werewolves, ghosts, vampires- they couldn’t exist. It shouldn’t. Yet here Frank stood, making a quick believer out of you.

“What do you want from me?”

“Those fuckers back at the mansion gave me a good idea that I should get my own little puppet- and I decided that it should be you.”

The pit in your stomach deepened.

You didn’t know what that would mean for you, and you didn’t want to find out. You needed to break free from this monster. You snapped out of your thoughts when Frank let out a laugh.

“I can see those gears turning in your head- you really think I’m giving you a choice?” He flashed a wolffish smile filled with teeth. “You don’t have a fuckin’ chance.”

As much as your fear was threatening to consume you, you didn’t want to give up. Death would be better than becoming a pawn for this beast.

“Fuck you.” You gritted out.

He grinned once more, making a show of licking his teeth.

“I’m gonna have fun making you mine.”

You kept struggling to get out of his hold, kneeing him in his groin hard as you rolled off the bed. You heard him curse as you made a beeline to the door, only to get yanked back by Frank.

“Really? That’s all you got?” He sounded less than amused. “Gotta do better than that.”

He sent you flying in the air, a choked gasp escaping you as your body collided with the wall. The move left you dizzy as Frank blocked the door, your steps a bit wobbly- then through your fear you remembered.

You dug through the drawer for your gun. It was a small, police-issued handgun. You never thought that you would have to use it, so you didn’t have a lot of ammo to spare. If you could just get one good shot on Frank, then this nightmare could be over. Even if he wasn’t dead, you could get away.

You didn’t have a concrete plan.

Your hands shook as you loaded it, and even more when you aimed it at him.

Frank opened his mouth, ready to mock you some more when you pulled the trigger.

The shot rung in your ears as you saw him stumble back, crimson flowing down his forehead. He fell back on the floor, and the breath you didn’t know you were holding was shakily released.

You’ve never had to kill someone before- always trained to do everything behind the scenes. But with Frank, he needed to die. It was clear that you wouldn’t be left unscathed if you hadn’t shot.

Your skin crawled at the thought of going near his body, but you needed to make sure that he was dead. Another headshot would put you more at ease before you escaped for good-

“Shit- you’re a better shot than I remember.”

Your knees felt weak and your stomach dropped as Frank sat up, wiping the trail of blood from his forehead, any trace of the injury gone. No blood, no bullet wound, nothing. Like he wasn’t ever shot to begin with.

Uncontrollable shivers ran throughout your body as Frank made his way towards you. You aimed your gun and shot more rounds into him, but he didn’t even seem phased.

Your breathing grew heavy as the gun clicked empty.

“That’s enough of that-“ he grabbed the gun, tearing it from your hands and flinging you along with the weapon across the room. Your head and back crashed against the vanity, breaking the mirror into pieces in mere seconds.

Your vision was blurring as the glass came down, some pieces slicing your skin. Frank came to stand over you, tsking as he picked up a shard.

You tried to crawl to the gun, pieces of glass burying themselves in your hands and knees. Before you could utter a word, a searing, white hot pain shot through you. You didn’t realize how loud you were screeching until he ripped the shard out of your side, stained with crimson.

He flipped and crouched over you, nodding his head and admiring his work. “It was fun while it lasted, but it’s about time I get what I came for.”

You wheezed, weakly trying to push him away as he kept you pinned down with one hand. Your back was drenched from sweat and blood pooling out of your side.

Everything felt so foggy- you felt numb, and the longer you laid on the floor, the more your eyes were fighting to stay open. You wanted to sleep, still holding onto the childlike belief that this was just a bad dream.

But that thought was shattered when Frank pulled you up and bit you.

The pain was excruciating. A scream ripped out of you, trying to claw, push- everything in your power to break free. But you were physically drained, forced to hear the disgusting slurping of your own blood.

Your mind was cloudy as what felt like minutes went by. Frank finally pulled away, dropping you back on the floor unceremoniously. You lifted your trembling hand to your neck, while Frank watched on with a bloodied smirk.

The broken reflection from the shards on the floor showed you how gnarly the bite looked. Your skin was starting to bruise, deep shades already forming on your skin. Your stomach was turning more when Frank started to chuckle.

You were scared to ask him what he’s laughing for, whatever reasoning bound to fill you with more misery.

You stared on in horror when the bite disappeared.

“What did you do to me?” You whispered, wiping your finger over where the bite was. The area throbbed, but nothing was there. The bruising remained, but the teeth marks were gone.

Your wide eyes locked with his, your voice rising, “What did you to me?!”

“Exactly what I told you. Making you my puppet.”

You were on the brink of hyperventilating, ready to curse and cry out all at once when you suddenly stopped. Any words that would have been said were caught in your throat. The words you tried to force came out choked, only wheezes and short breaths escaping.

“Now that’s more like it.” Tears were forming in your eyes, but you still couldn’t cry out. Your mind was racing, heart about to beat out of your chest when everything went blank.

The horror marking your face was gone, hands falling to your side as you kneeled. Frank stood over you, nudging your form.

You didn’t even budge.

“That fuckin’ freak was onto something when she turned that kid into her puppet.” He grabbed at your face, you still motionless.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, Frank mockingly cooing at you. “It’s too late for tears now.” He bent down to your neck, leaning in close. You couldn’t even flinch.

“Tell me- who do you belong to?”

You had no control over yourself anymore. You were just a passenger in your own body, watching helplessly as words you didn’t choose to say came out.

“I belong to you Frank.”

“Say it again.” He growled.

“I belong to you, Frank.” Your monotone voice filled the room.

He nodded his head once more, commanding you to stand up, which you did without dispute. “If you behave, I’ll think about fully turnin’ you when we get home. Didn’t want to do it too early- I want to make sure I can savor all the fun I can have with you.” He spoke nonchalantly, adjusting his glasses.“But it’s not like you have a choice either way.”

You just stood there blankly, silent tears rolling down your cheek.

Frank ordered you to grab your keys, saying that you had a few stops to make before he could make his decision.

“But for now- let’s start having some real fun.”

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steddieunderdogfics · 20 days ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @midsummer-semantics! QueenOfSwords1312 has posted 51 fics to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 50 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@tedewitt recommends the following works by @midsummer-semantics:

A Kind of Merry War

Free-Use Health Care

Dia de los Muertos

The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between

Don't threaten me with a good time

"Jordan is an incredible writer first and foremost. They have a passion for writing that you don’t see every often. Their fics transport you into the world they’ve built and breathe new life into familiar characters." -- @tedewitt

Below the cut, @midsummer-semantics answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ve somehow managed to make these guys my entire personality since they very very briefly interacted two years ago. Weirdly enough, I wasn’t even a huge fan of Steve until s4 (blasphemy, I know), but the Steddie brainrot took hold immediately and I feel like they’re genuinely such adaptable characters that putting them in a million different situations and seeing how they’d interact is one of the best parts.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Getting together, hands down. I will read them getting together in the same way a million times and never get tired of it, but everyone writes such interesting ways that it’s always good every single time.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Didn’t know they were dating. The small acts of domesticity that leads them to the realization they’ve basically been together without the kissing (and other things) all along it so fun and funny to me. Especially if it’s what leads to Steve’s sexual awakening.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

“Come what may (i will love you until my dying day)” by emurph_24. It changed my life in so many amazing ways and I credit that fic as the reason why I got into the fandom space itself and not just writing my little fics for funsies. Plus, the author is my wife now.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Eventually I’d love to write a proper Getting Back Together fic, but I hate making them fight and break up so it’s going to take some mental and emotional gymnastics in order to do that first before the good thing happens.

What is your writing process like?

It varies. Either I start with a proper detailed outline, every major plot point I want to hit laid out with a checklist and I go through each part until I’ve hit them all. Or I have one single idea or inspirational quote/event/story I heard somewhere in mind and I just insert Steddie into it instead. The first one takes me weeks to get through. The second I usually end up writing 10k in a day. Either way, I talk through pretty much everything with Tara (TEDewitt) and Erin (emurph_24) before and during the writing, and they’re the best hype-people and betas anyone could ask for.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I almost always start fics with the name of the person whose point of view will be used within the first sentence. “Eddie Munson is a fool.” “They’ve been dancing around each other for months and it’s driving Eddie up the wall.” “Steve knows he and Eddie are close.” I’m not sure why I do that, but I think it just makes it easier on my brain to know right away whose brain I’m using. I also hope it makes things clearer for people who read my stuff.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I tend to post when I finish writing (once Tara and Erin have had a chance to look through it), but I’d never published an entire fic chapter by chapter once it’s entirely written. I usually post chapters as I finish them, which makes me pretty bad about irregular updates (Sorry!). But I’ve been part of a few events now that have posting schedules and those have been WORLDS better about keeping me on track for things.

Which fic are you most proud of?

It’s a toss-up between “The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between,” “Free-Use Healthcare,” and “A Kind of Merry War.” The first is my longest fic and what I feel is the first real deep-dive into the characters, and it’s my baby. The second just did really really well and I’m still a little in shock by it. And the third was not only fun but everything I like to see in Shakespeare adaptations so it was a successful adaptation in my book.

How did you get the idea for Don't threaten me with a good time?

We all know the phrase “write what you know” and I’ve, frankly, lived a really weird life. So the story is literally just a Steddified version of a celebrity run-in I had on my birthday a few years back.

When writing The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to be as long as it is lol I mean, I knew it was going to be 22 chapters, but I didn’t really know going in how long those chapters would be.

What inspired The Fool, The World, and Everything in Between?

The major arcana, and my desire to write a fix-it of volume 2. I just really think Eddie deserved to live and the major arcana do tell “the fool’s story” so it was a great way to make that happen.

What was your favorite part to write from Dia de los Muertos?

The first kiss. Well, the entire thing was fun to write, but again, I’m a sucker for those boys getting together, and Eddie’s little panic attack when he surprise-kisses Steve the first time because he just can’t help it was so fun.

How do/did you feel writing Free-Use Health Care?

Like a horny goblin took over my brain and was controlling me Ratatouille-style until suddenly there was 10k words in less than 24 hours. It wasn’t even supposed to be two parts, it was only going to be one with an open ending, but I literally couldn’t stop thinking about a part 2 as I was writing part 1 so here we are.

What was the most difficult part of writing A Kind of Merry War?

Textual interpretation. I’m really familiar with Much Ado About Nothing from years of working with it, but trying to make the actual lines from the play that are featured in the fic make sense in a way that is easily understandable to non-Shakespeare fans without derailing the pacing or taking people out of the story was an insane balancing act. I like to think I nailed it, though.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

In “Where lovers used to live (But they’ve been gone for quite some time)”, Steve finally gets to have the post-Eddie breakdown he deserves, but interwoven in that breakdown is repeated flooding of memories of how they got together before Eddie died. My favorite is when they’re getting a small moment in the RV just the two of them and Eddie is reading the Silmarillion to Steve, and Steve makes Eddie promise that when they survive the battle, they’ll run away together. Broke my own heart writing it, but god it was good.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I always have something up my sleeve, but the current and most exciting is the Eddie Munson Big Bang. I’m working with helpimstuckposting on an omegaverse Practical Magic AU called “Pressure in Increments,” coming very soon!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’ve really met some of the coolest people in the world through this fandom and I think their friendship has really helped this not die for me even when there’s times it gets overwhelming or I feel like I’m losing momentum to write. I know that no matter what else is going on, I have the boys and my friends in my corner, and that’s the best part of it all.

Thank you to our author, @midsummer-semantics and our nominator, @tedewitt! See more of QueenOfSwords1312's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writer

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vodika-vibes · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! Congratulations on making it to 650! Your fics are some of the best and you deserve all the love and attention.

Okay, could I ask for a romance with Jango Fett in a medieval or fantasy AU? I don’t know; the idea of Jango dressed in warrior king attire just waltzed through my mind and won’t leave me alone. Maybe something along the lines of the relationship started as purely political, but it turns out you’re good for one another and it’s just mutually falling for each other.

For The Dancing

Summary: Your marriage to Jango Fett was decided long before you were old enough to understand what was happening. And it was supposed to be a purely political marriage. Love was never meant to be part of the hand you were dealt. You’re not upset, however, when love appears.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

AU Prompt: Fantasy/Medieval AU

Word Count: 1550

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, reader is referred to as wife

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, so here is the first fic of my new event, and naturally I had to start with Jango! I hope you like it~

“You seem troubled, wife.” You don’t pull your gaze away from the garnet colored wine that you’re sipping when you hear your husband’s voice from the doorway behind you.

“Not troubled,” You reassure after a moment, as you finally lower your glass back to the table, “Just pensive, I think.”

“May I join you?”

You finally turn your attention towards the man waiting in the doorway, an amused tilt to your lips, “You hardly need to ask for permission, Jango.” He’s dressed down, his ceremonial armor likely sitting neatly on it’s stand.

Oh, how far you and he have come since the day of your wedding.

There was a time when Jango would never dream of allowing you to see him without his armor.

You watch him as he steps onto the balcony and sinks into the chair across from you. Your expression doesn’t waver as he almost falls into the seat, as though there’s a massive weight on his shoulders.

“The talks went poorly then?” You ask, taking in the tension in his frame and the stress lines on his face.

He shifts in his seat and rests his cheek on his hand, “Don’t they always?” His dark gaze scans your face, “The Duchess asked after you.”

“Of course she did.” You reply dismissively, “Likely worrying about how I’ve been treated by you...godless heathens.” You add with an amused smile.

Jango’s lips quirk up into a small smile, “Those were her exact words.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Honestly, you’d think she’d be better at this by now.”

He chuckles and leans back, “If it helps, she did seem to be genuinely concerned as to your well-being.”

“Hm. Yes, I don’t doubt that at all.”

“You have no intention of seeing her, I take it.”

You lift your wine glass again and absently twist the stem between your fingers, “There’s no point. Satine and I haven’t been close since we were children. And the last time we spoke, she had some things to say to me in regards to our marriage.”

“You’ve mentioned that before.” Jango allows, “Is that why you’re wallowing, wife?”

“Wallowing?” There’s a hint of laughter in your voice, “I suppose it must seem like I’m sulking a little bit.”

“Miles says that you haven’t left our wing since Satine and her entourage arrived.” Jango murmurs, “I am...concerned.”

You regard him fondly, “I have little love for large gatherings, Jango. You know that.”

“I would never dream of asking you to interact with people who cause you distress, wife. Were it in my power, I would cast Satine and her entourage out of our kingdom so that you might be less distressed.”

“It is in your power,” You remind him with an adoring smile, “But I would never dream of asking such a thing. You need these talks to go well.”

Jango taps a rhythm out on the table, “Is that what is troubling you?”

You pause, “The Kyr’tsad have become more bold with each passing day. Entire families have gone missing from the mining villages. Our people are afraid, husband.”

Jango grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, “I know. My hands are tied until Satine and her…” He makes a face and mutters something in Mando’a, “Until she agrees that we need to take decisive action.”

You straighten, “And what, pray tell, is my honorable cousin’s suggestion for dealing with the situation?”

“She would like us to talk.”

“...I...what?” For the first time, in a very long time, you’re properly befuddled.

He chuckles, “That has been the reaction of a lot of people. Including the Jedi who she brought with her to act as mediators.” Jango shakes his head, “The Jedi told her that her suggestion was a fool’s suggestion and that she needed to take the talks seriously, and she doubled down-” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck again.

You set your wine glass back on the table and smoothly stand to walk around the table. Gently, you settle your hands on his shoulders and start working out the tension in his shoulders and neck.

“I am not so eager to become a widow, Jango.” You murmur as he all but melts under your careful touch.

Jango tilts his head back so that his dark gaze is able to lock with your worried one. His hand comes up and presses against one of your hands, “I have no intention of leaving you a widow, wife. I will always come back to you, that I promise.”

“Gods willing,” You murmur in reply.

Slowly Jango turns the chair so that he’s facing you properly, and he stands so you’re standing chest to chest. He reaches out and lightly cups your cheeks with his warm hands. “Have you so little faith in my skills, wife?” He rumbles low in his chest.

Your eyes close as the scent and feel of Jango surrounds you, “It is not your skills that I have no faith in, Jango.” You press your hands over his, “Marching into battle with unwilling soldiers at your side-”

“That will never happen. You needn’t fret, wife.”

Your breath hitches as he presses his forehead against yours, and your eyes slide shut, “Satine is a fool, and she would see Mandalore lost before she gives up her ideals.”

“You know her better than I.” Jango says after a moment, “Would she truly sacrifice our homeland for the sake of her pacifism?”

“She believes that her way is the best way and that everyone will be better following her rules.” You murmur, “In a way, she’s just as fanatic as Pre Vizsla, just in the opposite direction.”

“Are you allowed to say that?” Jango asks, amused. “You are her cousin after all.”

You open your eyes and make a face, “I’ve always been a bit more even-keeled than Satine.”

“And I am grateful for it,” Jango admits, “And so our people.” He lightly strokes your cheek with his thumb and there’s something soft in his gaze. “While I would never dream of asking you to do something that you’re not willing to do, wife, I could use your silver tongue in the meetings tomorrow.”

You hum softly, “Then you shall have it.”

“Thank the stars,” He mutters, “Between you and the Jedi, I think the meeting will be less contentious tomorrow.”

You smile at him and lean into his warmth, “You are still so tense, husband.”

“It has been a very long day.”

“How can I help?”

Slowly, Jango drags his hands down from your cheeks, over your shoulders, and down your arms, until he’s cradling both of your hands with his own. “How long has it been since we last danced?” He asks as he lightly guides you from the balcony and back into the safety of your shared quarters.

“It’s been a couple of weeks, at least. You’ve been busy.”

“Well, that’s no excuse.” He twirls you into his arms, and starts dancing with you around the bedroom. There’s no music, but it’s perfect all the same.

“Careful, Jango.” You murmur as he spins you and then tugs you so you’re flush against his body, “You run the risk of making me fall in love with you.”

“Are you not already? Then I’m not trying hard enough.”

You laugh softly, and lightly brush your lips against his jaw. His hand, settled lightly on your hip, tightens. You’re no fool. You know that Jango loves you, you can tell in the way that he touches you, the way he looks at you, the way he protects you.

In truth, you love him too. You wouldn’t worry so much about him if you didn’t.

And he knows it.

The words are unnecessary at this point.

“I love dancing with you,” Jango murmurs, as he draws you closer to him and tilts your head back so his lips hover just over yours, “Have since the day of our wedding.”

“I feel the same way,” You murmur, “You’re the perfect dance partner.”

Jango closes the gap between your lips and his. He kisses you like you’re his most valued treasure, his lips warm and gentle against your own, though there’s a hint, just a hint, of roughness behind his lips.

Someday, you’re going to push him to see what he looks like when he’s not trying to be gentle with you. But not today.

He breaks the kiss and bumps his forehead against yours one more time, “When this crisis is over,” Jango murmurs, “I would like to speak with you about having a child.”

You blink at him, surprised, and then you smile, soft and slow, “A baby Jango.” You murmur.

“A baby you,” He corrects, “With your clever tongue and my strength.”

“He’ll be perfect.” You murmur with a warm smile.

“Yes. She will.”

You laugh, and slide your arms around him, “Alright, alright. As soon as this is dealt with, we can start trying for a baby.”

Jango grins, “Well, now I’m motivated.”

And then he sweeps you into a deep kiss, and you wrap your arms around him and allow yourself to be lost in him.

Love might not have been in the cards when you married him, but it’s in the cards now. And nothing could make you happier.

#star wars #star wars legends #vodika vibes 650 event #jango fett x reader #jango x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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zombee · 1 year ago

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I feel like the luckiest Our Flag Means Death fan in the world after the season 2 finale. By a series of incredible circumstances - including a significant metatextual realization that came in at the 11th hour - it was close to perfect for me.

This essay has everything. Completely normal behavior over a television series. Steven Universe references. The David Jenkins School of Whatever is Best for the Bit. Humbling catharsis.

First: this piece does not exist with the central thesis of “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad.” I feel like thousands of words have already been written on this since Thursday, so I’m going to try to not get too in depth on that.

Second, cards on the table, because it’s relevant and I don’t want to waste your time if this is going to sour your ability to hear me out: I’m an Izzy Canyon hater. For MANY reasons, but from way before the concept of the Canyon existed, (some) Izzy fans pinged me in the same way as Snape/Kylo Ren fans did, and before May 2022 was over I went from genuinely enjoying Izzy’s character and place in the narrative to hating him because his fans made it impossible for me to enjoy him anymore.

(SOME! of his fans. Please don’t keep making me say this, although I’m not going to talk about the Canyon directly anymore after this. I know there are a ton of normal Izzy Enjoyers and even Canyonites, I am literally friends with many of them, please take this all in the good faith it’s intended and if you’re not One Of The Bad Ones then you’re fine! I very carefully don’t go anti-Izzy on main, and when I stopped enjoying his character, I stopped writing him into fics. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just want to be honest. Anyway.)

The season 2 finale made me weep over Izzy Goddamn hands.

ALL season long, I was disgruntled. All season long. I really, truly, DEEPLY appreciated what they were doing with his character and arc, I thought it was wildly on brand for the themes of community/queerness in the show, I saw the vision, I liked it!!! But. I wanted a fucking apology, yall. I needed three seconds of “sorry I called you a slur, Ed :/�� and that would have been enough. But I had to let it go. It was poisoning my enjoyment of the whole season, which I loved with very little exception (not none!) and I just had to let it go. I wasn’t getting an apology. That didn’t negate what they were doing with his character.

Yall. They withheld the apology on purpose.

THIS FUCKING SHOW!!!

Let’s go back a bit. I was at the episode 6 + 7 screening, and the breakup shook me. Probably a LOT more than if I had watched it alone in bed at 3am on my laptop - five days of no sleep after NYCC, lots of emotions, seeing it on a big screen with a hundred other intense fans, etc etc - but I did see other folks reacting in parallel ways to me when the episodes aired to the regular public, so maybe I would have felt the same way. Regardless, I was mad at Stede and to a lesser extent Ed. I NEEDED AN APOLOGY FOR THAT FISH LINE. I needed it! “Whativah” autocorrects to “WHATIVAH” in my phone. I was going through it.

(When I rewatched the episode when it aired it was not nearly as bad as I remember, lol)

So now the episode 8 screeners go out and the reviews drop and I think I catch one half-glimpse of a “What a heartbreaking ending!” kind of snippet, and some of my friends who are spoiler fiends unintentionally drop little hints about similar ideas (devastating/heartbreaking/split the fandom) type shit.

And I was a fucking WRECK! about it.

I do love this whole show with my whole chest. I do!!! But I’m not rotted because this is an excellent television show, I’m rotted because two old men kiss each other! On the MOUTH!!! in an excellent television show. You get it, right? I’ve written 700,000 words across almost 100 fics and 98% of them are dedicated to those two men falling in love in different universes.

So it just did not even occur to me the “heartbreak/devastation/fandom split” would be about anything but Gentlebeard.

Another piece of this that was fucking me up - David Jenkins and his “satisfactory” ending biz. My brain was reacting like this show was ENDING ending, even if I knew logically! that this is just season 2!!! And I wasn’t ready for that, because what if it wasn’t personally satisfying, and I’m a mess about it? Why was I so worried about not liking it? I’d liked the whole season! Even if they didn’t nail the landing I wasn’t going to stop writing fic or hanging out with my pirate community & friends.

…is what I kept trying to tell myself, but the way anxiety disorders work is funny like that lol. What if I did stop writing fic and hanging out in pirate spaces? That would hurt much more than a show I like disappointing me. And for anyone who’s having that experience with ofmd s2, I’m so very, very sorry. It sucks and that’s where my epiphany came from on Wednesday before the finale.

Because it has happened to me before.

I flit from hyperfocus to hyperfocus, as ya do when you’re spicy, but the last thing to get its hooks in me PROPERLY like pirates was Steven Universe. And I did NOT like the way the regular season ended!!! (I actually really did like most of Future; that’s not what I mean. I mean season 5). I don’t like how they handled the Diamonds, tldr; I think the scope of their villainy got too out of hand, and I was left grieving the thing that had meant enough to me I ran a fan convention for four years based around it.

Side note: imagine if I had channeled the hyperfocus of almost a million words of fanfiction into an American OFMD con instead. We could have made magic :( I did consult with Our Con Means Death though so I am at least a teeny tiny bit of that one!

I did not like the way Steven ended… but I do respect the story they were telling and think they told it well.

I’m still sad about it. Steven is still one of my most beloved, it will always be beautiful and great to me, but that experience did and does sully my memories. There is so, so, so, SO much more good than bad from being in that fandom, and I cherish it. And I hope, if you’re having this experience with OFMD right now, that you’ll find similar comfort.

But, like I said at the top, “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad” has been belabored already by people better at writing about it than me. I just had the incredible privilege to remember my brush with lower case T trauma and having that experience in my last REALLY big deal fandom. That’s why I had been so extra anxious about being disappointed. Because it happened to me before. It helped so much to connect those two.

So the finale happens, and it’s actually about twelve hours of me going from “eh, rushed but fun, whole season was great” to “THIS MAYBE IS THE BEST SHOW OF ALL TIME, ACTUALLY!”

BECAUSE THIS SHOW MADE ME CRY OVER IZZY FUCKING HANDS!!!!

They literally told me this was the story they were telling this season. “Men can change” “The end of piracy” “Ed leaving Blackbeard behind (ish).”

As for me? I didn’t get an apology for the fish. Instead, I got “Sorry I was a dick.” “You weren’t a dick. Life’s a dick.”

Just… fuckity BAM. THREE FUCKING SENTENCES resolving that fight. Saying so much in so little.

In real life, should these two men have an actual conversation about this shit? Sure!!! But that’s not how OFMD tells its stories!

It works in symbolism. It works in vibes. It works in an hour’s worth of content into each half-hour episode, and for how much lamenting I have done about the pacing, I would prefer that 100x to having to stretch it out too much.

I have said since March 24, 2022 that OFMD wields anachronism as a weapon. First and foremost, it’s fucking funny, but in addition to that, it’s stating clearly: “This is a fantasy world. This is not real history. This show is about romance (and so much more than that), and the rest is just VIBES!!!”

Sometimes vibes can be historical accuracy. Sometimes vibes can be true emotional poignancy. Sometimes vibes can be Ed finding his sunken leathers in the sea, changing underwater somehow, and coming out of the ocean like the Birth of Fucking Venus, because water and rebirth and mermaids and shit is all very prominent this season. And ALSO, and this is very important! BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!

I don’t want to do much real Izzy meta here. It’s been said by others, and better than me. But it was telegraphed and it was symbolic – he was the paragon of Traditional Piracy in season 1, for goodness’ sake, and Traditional Piracy is Toxic Masculinity, and he was a part of Blackbeard and Ed had to leave Blackbeard behind (yknow, ish), and he got this ABSOLUTLEY FUCKING LOVELY! storyline about appreciating what a (queer) community can do, and god fucking shit fucking dammit… most of all, best of all (for me), was Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave at the end. Men can change. And Izzy DID!!! He did it for Ed. For love. For community. I am puzzled by “it’s fucked up to use Izzy to further Ed’s storyline” because… this was Ed’s season, in the way that season 1 was Stede’s. And Ed cannot be removed from piracy as a whole (neither can Stede!) so to have this old, set in his ways, coded-queerphobic character blossom to the point he can give this gift to Ed and to piracy… idk man. I just find it so fucking beautiful.

It is okay not to like what they did. It’s okay!!! It’s okay, and it’s okay to mourn, and while it’s not okay to do [insert vile behavior here], it’s okay to carefully examine what you think is “bad writing” vs “what you would have preferred to happen” and give good-faith, textually-based criticism on that.

But I want to remind you over and over and over again, this show works on vibes. It tells its stories leaving many, many, many gaps. There are many things I would have liked to see, and y’know what? I would have told the Izzy story differently. I would have personally done it differently. But it’s not my show! It’s not my show, and I am humbled and delighted to remember that, and to appreciate Our Flag Means Death for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Other words have been written better than I could about the 18 months between seasons 1 and 2 and what that does to us as rabid fans with expectations of how things will go. Millions and millions and millions of words have been written about OFMD, fictional and non, and that is going to color our expectations and experience. We had built it up SO MUCH in our minds and along the way I think some of us forgot (INCLUDING ME!!!) that it is first and foremost about Vibes.

The vibes of Izzy’s death are about rebirth and forgiveness and leaving traditional piracy behind. And he got to die in Ed’s arms, knowing (HAPPILY!) that he had been wrong, and giving Ed the gift of letting him know he is loved, and being a part of something. We had a funeral but we also had a wedding. The only constant is change. Men, piracy, Blackbeard; it all changes. And Izzy found peace in that.

Before my last point, I want to @ myself on things I felt versus realizing in the end it is (I will say it until I’m blue in the face) about vibes.

· I was convinced they left Buttons’ transformation ambiguous because they wanted to leave room for it not having been real. NO!!! It is real, until they decided it isn’t. Magic in the OFMD universe? Fucking why not!!! IT’S SYMBOLIC!!! IT’S IMPORTANT TO ED’S STORYLINE AND THE CENTRAL THESES OF THE SHOW!

· I was unhappy, and still am a little, about the Polycule Situation, but now that I realize Oluwande is Zheng’s Stede… I am less so. The Zheng : Auntie :: Ed : Izzy vibes, btw? Fuckin immaculate.

· Obviously they touched on Stede/Ed’s “killing people trauma” but I’d reallyyyy like Stede to address it, and even though I think Ed’s is left on a very satisfying note, I’d like him to dip a bit more into it as well. But if they don’t, oh well! It’s not like they ignored it, they just didn’t have a Deep Dive like I Wanted Them To!

· They didn’t deal with Ed throwing Stede’s shit away. They just ignored it! Stede started to collect new trinkets, and I believe that was as much about giving the audience back the old feeling of the Revenge as it was anything important (not to say it wasn’t also important thematically!!!). Just like Ed going back to his leathers is both Extremely Important thematically and about putting Taika back in the leathers because that’s what Blackbeard should be wearing for the epic final scenes for the sake of visually keeping the show consistent. That’s Blackbeard’s uniform.

· Stede’s frilly little outfits my beloved. God I hope they give him back some of his frippery in season 3. I think they will re: cursed suit BUT his journey this season was about something else, so!

· Ed’s stupid little non-profit non-apology, oh my god. It was so funny. And there is a transition from eps 5 to 6 where Ed is back in his leathers and the crew is more comfortable around him. They didn’t have to have him do a Real Apology, it’s implied it was all settled. What was the timeline? A day? DOESN’T MATTER, BABY, VIBES!!!

· Lots more, I’m sure, but now that I’ve tried to let it all go, I’m remembering less of what I wanted and appreciating what I got!

And, last point here, I think it is also very very very important to remember that a lot of people are normal about this show. In fact, WAY more people are normal about this show than aren’t. And that is EXTREMELY! IMPORTANT!!! because otherwise it wouldn’t be profitable and we all know what would happen then. We are the core of it, to be sure. Without word of mouth that stems from our intensity, this show would not be NEARLY as successful as it is. I truly, truly believe that.

But.

Do normies need deeply emotional discussions dissecting the central relationships? No. What normies need is Ed and Stede running dramatically toward each other on the beach and kissing. And I am happy, so fucking happy, to realize that’s what I need too. I’ve got fanworks for the rest.

I love this fucking show and this fucking fandom and its fucking creators so much. Fuck.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2

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luckycharms1701 · 7 months ago

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*comes sliding into your inbox and excitedly crashes you into a tight bear hug*

OMIGOSH CAPTAIN KIRSTEN YOU’RE BACK! How are you sweet thing!? I’m so glad to hear that your request box is open again! I’m so excited to see what wondrous words you’ll dazzle us with next!

I just had the most splendiferous like EVER, and I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about it sooner. But you like Peepaw Leo right? And I like Peepaw Leo.

So I was thinking like you know…maybe if you’re feeling up for it (if and only if of course) you wouldn’t mind sharing your thoughts on how F!Leo would react to someone who’s generally super amiable and confident with all the other and resistance members, suddenly turns almost painfully polite an awkward around him. (This is legit how I act around people who I think are attractive) It happens so much to the point that he thinks they don’t him when in reality, they like him so much it flusters them to the point they don’t know how to act around them.

Basically I just wanna see how a “mature” Leo would act when he realizes someone likes him so much they can’t function 😆

Once again, this is just an idea to get those creative juices flowing, so please do with it as you so wish and remember that you’re a darling treasure! MWUAH 😘🧡✨

anon-chan!!! hello!!! 🫂🫂🫂 i’m so glad to see you in my inbox!!!

congratulations anon-chan! this is officially the most difficult request that has ever been asked of me. i’ve spent weeks trying to figure this out. started writing a little fic, but it didn’t feel right. so i thought maybe i could do some headcanons, but every time i tried to start i didn’t know where to start!

the problem i’m having is variables. there are so many variables for how this could turn out, mostly depending on timing. when exactly during the resistance does this happen? because i feel like that informs leo’s response. so have some of my unfiltered thoughts. a peek into how i “organize” my writing thoughts, if you will. i’m sorry in advance

Early 20s: This Leo is still confident and optimistic, at least outwardly. He and his brothers defeated Shredder twice, how hard can the Kraang be? Sure, they need some help and it’ll take longer, but it’ll definitely work out in the end and life will resume as normal. Right?

So I imagine that Leo at this age would see you suddenly pulling away and acting formal with him and get upset at first. He thought you were friends, why are you doing this? He would likely reciprocate or get snippy, at least until one of his brothers, probably Mikey but possibly Raph, comes to him and is like “Dude. Come on.” Give the guy a break, there’s a lot going on you know??? So at his brother’s suggestion, he sits back and observes.

When he finally confirms for himself that you do, in fact, have feelings for him and that’s why you’re being standoffish with him, watch out! This little shit is going to make you suffer a bit. He’s going to start flirting with you. Lots of compliments, little winks, soft touches… You will be inundated.

Something changes. Perhaps they lose their biggest battle to date. Perhaps someone close to him dies. Perhaps it is Casey Jr’s birth. Any way it plays out, Leo realizes that life is shorter than it seems, that love is precious and fleeting and should be grasped. He realizes that his teasing may be a little more… genuine on his side than he’d realized.

So he comes to you. Perhaps he goes full ham, arranges a romantic meeting somewhere, plans a dinner. Perhaps you end up in danger, and he goes a little crazy about it. Perhaps it is just a quiet moment that the two of you manage to steal. Either way, he tells you how he feels.

Late 20s/Early 30s: Now here is a Leo who is starting to realize that they might be in over their heads. He’s lost at least one member of his family. He’s watched them steadily lose ground to the Kraang, despite everyone giving their best effort. He is starting to understand that they might not win this fight. At this point he’s probably learned how the Kraang came to our world and that he played a part in their arrival.

This Leo is overwhelmed, but still holding strongly to hope. He’s determined to do everything in his power to keep morale up. That’s why he notices immediately when you seem to start pulling away from him. He takes it a little personally at first. Yeah, maybe he’s not as fun as he used to be, but he’s trying to run a resistance here, that’s no reason to give him the cold shoulder. He resolves to approach you about it.

Something changes. Perhaps he notices you give him a sidelong glance. Perhaps someone teases you and he overhears. Perhaps he sits you down for that talk and you confess. He learns why you are so standoffish, and suddenly he has a choice to make.

Leading a resistance is a 24/7 job. He has no time for anything, especially when he has so much to make up for. Does he even deserve the sliver of happiness you’re offering him? And there’s the niggling thought in the back of his head that everything is futile anyway, that they’re going to lose and you’re going to die.

But if there’s one thing he’s learned out of all of this, it’s that life is short. He doesn’t want to die with regrets, and he knows he would regret not taking this chance. And he wants to give you what happiness he can, you deserve that. Wouldn’t it be a little “fuck you” to the Kraang, to find some peace in the midst of the chaos they (he) created?

He goes for it. He takes the risk, jumps in feet first, and tells you how he feels.

Late 30s: Leon. Oh Leon. He holds onto hope fiercely, with both hands, but he can’t, he won’t, keep any of it for himself. He understands implicitly that even if by some miracle they win, he’s not going to survive this fight.

He’s going to notice immediately when your behavior changes, when you get stiff with him. He keeps his finger on the pulse of everyone close to him, pays attention so that he can help them if they start to flag. It won’t take long for him to pull you aside, to ask you if everything is okay, if you need a break.

He’s going to figure it out, whether because you admit it to him or through context clues. He’s had years to hone his considerable talent in understanding people, his preternatural ability to know what they want with a glance.

He’s going to figure it out, and he’s going to do… nothing. As long as there’s the tiniest chance that you could survive this, he refuses to tie you to a corpse. Besides, he has been thinking up a plan, a last ditch effort, and maybe you could be the one to put it into action…

Your death hits him like a freight train. His own is a relief.

~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic @writinandcrying @xnorthstar3x @celticvix @donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds @thelaundrybitch @shakeyourtrees

#i don’t think this was exactly what you were looking for i’m sorry 😭#i did my best #talking tag #theory tag #rise leo #rise leo x reader #tmnt

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bijouxcarys · 2 months ago

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

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: this has been sitting waiting to be posted for a minute, but I've been in mama mode looking after my dog after being spayed, and I also don't know when you'll get the next chapter. it may not be before the new year, so if that's the case, I hope everyone enjoys their holiday month and I wish nothing but the best for everyone's 2025 <3 thank you for allowing me to express myself on here and giving me one hell of a 2024 xx

CW/TW: mentions of violence, discrimination, human trafficking, child abuse -- none are graphic or described in real time, but they are mentioned -- character death, medical episode, implication of ptsd

Tags: @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

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

@electronicwitchsandwich @thefairywithboots

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

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

March 15th, 2014.

The salon buzzed with a low hum of hair dryers, quiet laughter, and the faint clicking of coffee cups and saucers. Warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting golden glows across the room, while the occasional breeze from the open door stirred the faint scent of lavender and eucalyptus. Time slowed down here, as a haven away from the chaos of everyday life.

Which was why Irina Volkov loved it so much.

She sat in one of the cushioned chairs near the back, her dark hair wrapped in foils as she laughed lightly at something the stylist said. Looking impossibly elegant, even in this unassuming setting, her presence remained so utterly magnetic it turned heads without effort.

Beside her, Nate sat, leaned back with an almost bored expression, her long legs crossed at the ankle and arms loosely folded. A magazine sat abandoned in her lap, its glossy pages ignored.

“Why don’t you pick something out?” Irina suggested, her soft accent curling around each word. “You could at least pretend to care about your hair.”

Nate gave a sidelong glance, one brow arching. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Irina smiled knowingly, a touch of jest in her visage. “Nothing. But we’re here, Nate, make the most of it.”

With a sigh, Nate flipped the magazine open, though she didn’t bother to read it. Irina turned her attention back to the stylist but only for a moment before shifting her focus back to her daughter.

“So,” she began, playfully yet probing. “Do you know what kind of man you’d like to be with one day?”

Nate nearly choked on air. She stared at her mother, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “What? What kind of question is that?”

Irina laughed, tilting her head as though she’d been expecting the reaction. “It’s a simple question,” she said. “You’re nearly nineteen. Surely you’ve thought about it.”

“No,” Nate replied flatly, with a dry sarcasm. “I’ve been way too busy plotting world domination like Daddy.”

Irina clicked her tongue. “Don’t dodge the question, malyshka. You must have some idea. Strong? Handsome? Smart? All three, perhaps? Beard? Tattoos? Or clean and baby-faced?”

Nate groaned, slumping further in her seat. “Mum, I don’t care. Seriously. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than boys.”

Her mother’s lips curled into a small, mischievous smile. “Oh, I see… I should, perhaps, be asking about the opposite sex instead?”

Nate froze. The casual way Irina had asked the question caught her off guard, and for a minute, she didn’t know how to respond. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she whipped her head toward her mother, horrified.

“What—why—what would even make you ask that?” she stammered, her words tripping over themselves in an uncharacteristic display of flustered panic.

Irina’s laughter was soft but genuine, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, darling, don’t look at me like that. I’m your mother. I know you better than anyone.”

“You don’t know that,” Nate muttered, her face heating further as she tried to bury herself deeper in the magazine. “God, you’re embarrassing.”

“Relax,” Irina said gently, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Nate’s face. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And you didn’t deny it, by the way.”

The younger Volkov let out a groan of pure frustration, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Irina’s smile softened, and just looked at her daughter—really looked at her, the way only a mother could. There was no judgement in her gaze, only quiet understanding and a hint of pride. She said nothing more on the subject, letting it fall away like it had never been brought up in the first place.

“You’re impossible, Mother,” Nate mumbled under her breath, but there was no real heat behind it.

“And don’t I know it,” Irina replied with an almost soft smugness.

They fell into an easy silence after that, the kind that came naturally between them. Irina shifted back in her seat, closing her eyes as the stylist continued working, while Nate returned to absently flipping through the magazine.

“What do you want for your birthday next month?” Irina asked after a while. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’”

Nate hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-page turn. Her lips pressed into a thin line as though debating whether to say what was on her mind.

“Well,” she began slowly, almost cautiously, “There is… one thing.”

Irina opened one eye, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh?”

Nate shifted in her seat, her earlier embarrassment melting into something closer to quiet longing. “I want to go back to the UK. To Cornwall. Surrey, too. Just… back home, you know? I miss it.”

Her mother’s expression softened, her gaze growing wistful. She reached out, resting a hand on Nate’s arm. “I know you do, malyshka. I miss it too.”

They both knew it wasn’t that simple. The move to Florida had been Dimitri’s decision, a strategic relocation to further cement his operations on US soil. Cornwall had been a lifetime ago—a quieter, simpler time before the weight of their family’s name had truly settled on Nate’s shoulders.

Nate shuffled again, fingers toying with the edge of the magazine. “You said you’d take me for my twenty-first,” she reminded her mother, her tone almost pleading.

“I did,” Irina nodded. “And I will. But twenty-one isn’t for another two years, Nate.”

“I know,” Nate said quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “But maybe… I don’t know. Maybe we could go for Christmas? Just for a little bit… Please?”

Irina sighed, caught between understanding her daughter’s needs and the resignation of returning where her husband had left off. “You know how your father is.”

“Yeah,” Nate muttered darkly. “That’s why I’m asking you and not him.”

Irina couldn’t help but smile at that. She squeezed Nate’s arm gently, her own reluctance giving way to the determination that always rose when it came to her children. “Okay,” she said finally.

Nate’s head shot up, her eyes widening. “Wait—really?”

Irina held up a finger. “On one condition.”

“I bloody knew it,” Nate grumbled. “What’s that, then?”

Leaning in slightly, Irina’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you go to that sparring session with Becky and her dad next week. You know how much it means to your father that you go, Nate.”

Nate rolled her eyes, but for something as ideal as visiting the UK again, it was a little price to pay. “Fine,” she relented. “But only because I really want to go.”

Irina grinned, a genuine warmth lighting up her face. “Deal.”

The stylist finished up, removing the last of the foils from Irina’s hair. As they prepared to leave, Irina rested a hand on Nate’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll start making plans,” she said quietly.

Nate looked at her, a faint smile on her lips. For a fleeting moment, the world outside didn’t exist at all—there was no Dimitri, no looming expectations, no weight of the Volkov name. Just a mother and daughter, sharing a rare moment of connection in a world that rarely allowed it.

“Thanks, Mum,” she said just above a whisper. Irina didn’t reply, but the look in her eyes said everything she couldn’t put into words.

Outside was a striking contrast to the warm, perfumed cocoon of the salon; the sun hung low, spraying the crowded Manhattan streets with jagged shadows. Dewy light gliding the mundane chaos of taxis honking, bicycles weaving through foot traffic, and street vendors shouting about their wares. Nate and Irina stood for a moment just beyond the threshold, the latter’s freshly polished appearance shimmering like a porcelain figure against the gritty urban tableau.

Irina smoothed her hair with a languid hand, a soft laugh still lingering on her lips from their final exchange with the stylists. “Should we?” she gestured in the direction of their favourite bookstore, Rizzoli on Broadway, a haven for both their literary indulgences and occasional splurges on coffee-table books they’d never actually read.

Nate tilted her head, pretending to deliberate. “Do we really need more books? My nightstand already looks like a collapsing Jenga tower.”

Irina raised an eyebrow, her expression half-playful, half-mocking. “As if that’s ever stopped us.”

They started walking, their steps in easy rhythm. Irina adjusted her purse, its leather strap cutting diagonally across her trim figure, while Nate shoved her hands into her jacket packers, adopting her usual careless touch. The city buzzed around them, a living, breathing entity—tumultuous and indifferent yet strangely comforting in its constancy.

“Your father is going to have a fit when he sees the credit card bill,” Irina remarked with a knowing smirk.

“Please,” Nate drawled. “He doesn’t even notice unless it’s a yacht or a Fabergé egg.”

Irina chuckled, but the laughter soon softened into silence, as though some unspoken entity had settled between them. Nate felt it first, her gaze flicking sideways to her mother, who stared ahead with a small, unreadable smile.

“What?” Nate asked.

Smile widening, Irina’s arm brushed against Nate’s as they walked. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” Irina replied indefinitely. “You’ve been a little… withdrawn lately.”

Nate snorted, her breath misting faintly in the crisp air. “When am I not withdrawn?”

“Fair point,” Irina conceded with a breathy laugh. “But this feels… different. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

The sincerity in her mother’s tone caught her for a whirlwind. She glanced down at the sidewalk, her pace faltering for a moment. “I know,” she muttered.

Irina didn’t push it; she rarely did. And that was one of the things Nate loved most about her mother—her patience, her ability to wait out Nate’s silences without filling them with unnecessary noise. They crossed the street, narrowly avoiding a young man on a skateboard who nearly collided with them. Irina clutched Nate’s arm, almost giggling as they reached the curb.

“Do you think Dad likes me?” Nate asked abruptly, impulsively.

Irina blinked, startled, but quickly composed herself. “What kind of question is that? Of course he does.”

Nate shook her head, her lips twisting into a bitter smile. “Not really. He tolerates me because he has to. Let’s be honest—he wanted a son, and instead, he got… me.”

Sighing, Irina draped an arm around Nate’s shoulders, pulling her close as they walked. “Your father’s not the easiest man to understand. He’s complicated, stubborn—”

“Emotionally constipated,” Nate interjected dryly.

Despite herself, the older Volkov managed a laugh, the sound rippling through the sad overtone of the topic at hand. “Yes, that too. But he loves you, in his own way. He just… doesn’t know how to show it.”

They both knew this was only half true. Dimitri’s preference for a son wasn’t just a rumour or an unspoken suspicion—it was fact, revealed during a drunken argument years ago that had left both Nate and Irina reeling. But neither of them needed to revisit that wound today. Some truths were better left unspoken, their edges dulled by time and careful avoidance.

“I’m fine with it,” Nate shrugged off her mother’s arm. “Really. I don’t need his approval.”

Irina watched her daughter for a moment, her face softening. “You’re stronger than you think, you do realise that, right?”

Nate rolled her eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile betrayed her. “Don’t get sappy on me, Mum.”

They turned a corner, the street narrowing as brownstones replaced glass facades. The air felt cooler here, quieter, but still alive with the faint hum of the city. Nate glanced around, her attention drawn to a commotion further down the block—a cacophony of car horns blaring, angry shouts blending into the urban symphony. She dismissed it as background noise, her focus returning to Irina, who was rummaging through her purse.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“My phone,” Irina replied absentmindedly. “I think I left it on silent at the salon.”

Before Nate could respond, the roar of an engine cut through the air, its aggressive growl out of place in the relatively calm street. A sleek black car with tinted windows appeared, weaving through traffic with an urgency. She glanced at it briefly but thought nothing of it.

She was a Volkov—aggression was the default setting.

The car drew closer, slowing as it neared them, its purring engine an ominous undercurrent. Nate felt it then—a strange prickle at the base of her neck, a subtle yet unmistakable warning. Her steps faltered, her instincts telling her to pull Irina closer.

“Let’s cross here,” she suggested, her voice tight.

But before Irina could respond, the car came to a sudden stop just a few feet from them. Nate’s gaze snapped to the vehicle, her pulse quickening as the back window began to lower. Just a crack. Just enough.

She saw it—a glint of metal, a shadowy hand—and in that split second, her body moved before her mind could catch up.

“Mum, get down!” she shouted, reaching for Irina’s arm.

And then the world shattered.

The first crack was sharp, metallic, like glass breaking under pressure. Nate flinched, her brain struggling to process the sound. A second and third followed, their echoes ricocheting off the brownstone, turning the narrow street into a tunnel of chaos.

Each shot slammed into Irina, her body snapping back as though struck by invisible fists. Her purse fell first, skittering to the ground with a hollow thud, followed by her legs giving way as if the strings holding her upright had been cut.

“Mum!” Nate screamed, the name erupting from her like a primal wail, raw and uncontainable. She lunged forward as Irina crumpled to the pavement, her once-elegant figure folding into a graceless heap. Blood bloomed across her white blouse, a grotesque and vivid flower spreading outward, soaking into the fabric. The iron tang hit Nate’s nose instantly, sharp and nauseating.

The car didn’t linger. Its tires screeched against the asphalt, the tinted windows rolling up like a stage curtain closing on the violence it had unleashed. Within seconds, it vanished into the river of traffic, leaving nothing but the stench of burnt rubber and the hollow, ringing silence that followed destruction.

For a moment, Nate couldn’t move. The world blurred around her, colours bleeding together as her mind refused to process what her eyes saw; Irina lying motionless, blood pooling beneath her, spreading outward like a dark halo.

“M-Mum…” Nate’s voice cracked, disbelief and terror tangled in her throat. She fell to her knees, uncaring of the blood that soaked through her jeans and slicked her hands as she cradled Irina’s weighted form. “No… No, no, no—wake up, please!”

Irina’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. Her lips moved faintly, forming half-words that Nate couldn’t hear over the sound of her own ragged breathing. Deep crimson bubbled at the corner of her mouth, a cruel mockery of life.

“Stay with me,” Nate begged, clutching her mother’s hand, the warmth she was so used to already beginning to fade. “Someone please help!” she cried out desperately.

Around them, the street had erupted into a frenzy. People screamed, some ducking into doorways, others frozen in shock. Cars honked furiously, their drivers oblivious to the tragedy unfolding just feet away. A few pedestrians gathered at a cautious distance, their faces pale and horrified, but no one dared step closer. This was New York; people knew better than to get involved in business like this.

Except one.

A man broke through the small crowd, his boots slamming against the pavement as he ran toward them. He was scruffy, with wild blue eyes and a jacket that looked like it had survived a war. He dropped to his knees beside Nate, his movements urgent but not panicked.

“Hey, hey,” he said steadily. “I’ve got her, I’ve got you. What’s your name?”

Nate didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. All she could do was sob messily as she clutched her mother’s limp body, her blood-slick hands trembling as she rocked back and forth.

“What’s her name?” the stranger asked.

“I-Irina…” Nate managed to choke out.

“Irina…” he nodded before looking down at the slain woman. “Irina. Can you hear me? I’m Dean, I’m gonna he—” he paused, already noting the gurgling in her throat and the purple forming around her lips. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, yanking a phone from his pocket. “911, we’ve got a shooting on—” He rattled off the address, but Nate wasn’t listening.

Irina’s fingers twitched weakly in her grip, and Nate’s breath caught. “Mum?” she whispered, leaning in close. “I’m here. You’re going to be fine, okay? Just–just stay awake. Please…”

Irina’s lips moved again, faint and fragile, like the flutter of a moth’s wings. “C-Christmas…” she murmured, the word slurring. “Promise…”

The words hit Nate like a knife to the chest. She nodded frantically, tears spilling down her face. “Okay, Mum. Christmas. I’ll hold you to it, just… stay with me, alright? Don’t go anywhere…”

Her mother’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. Then her eyes slipped shut, her body going limp in Nate’s arms.

“No.” Nate’s voice broke, the single word a desperate plea. She shook Irina gently, gripping onto her body like it was her only lifeline. “No, no, no—you can’t leave, please don’t leave me. Oh, God…”

The man beside her, who she overheard as Dean, reached out, his hand firm on her shoulder. “The ambulance is on its way,” he let her know calmly. “You need to let go.”

But Nate couldn’t let go. Irina’s blood was everywhere—on her hands, her clothes, pooling in the cracks of the pavement—and yet it felt like her mother was slipping through her fingers, disappearing into the ether. The world around her swirled in a dizzying haze of sirens and shouting and the faint, acrid smell of gunpowder.

And Nate, kneeling in the middle of it all, could do nothing but scream.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Nate woke with a start, her body jerking forward as if she’d been yanked from the depths of a cold, violent ocean. The room was dark, but the shadows shifted and clawed at the edges of her vision, remnants of a nightmare she couldn’t shake. Her chest heaved, the sharp gasp for air cutting through the stillness. Sweat drenched her, a cold film plastering her shirt to her skin and chilling her to the bone despite the faint warmth of the room.

Her heart was racing, not just the steady thrum of adrenaline but an erratic, panicked flutter. It felt wrong, uneven, as though something fragile inside her was being wrung out like wet fabric. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, the movement jerky and unsteady, trying to steady the unruly rhythm.

The dream lingered.

The sound of gunfire. The weight of her mother in her arms. Blood… so much blood…

Her throat closed, panic gripping her like a vice. She swallowed hard, trying to remind herself where she was. She wasn’t in the middle of Manhattan in 2014. There was no sidewalk slick with crimson, no scent of gunpowder and rubber in the air. It was December 2022.

December 2022… You’re at home… Katya’s right down the hall… You’re okay…

But her heart wouldn’t stop.

It was too fast, too heavy, like it was trying to batter its way out of her chest. Each beat sent a sharp, pulsing ache radiating down her arms and into her jaw. The familiar tightness seized her ribs, squeezing like a cruel hand, and she let out a strangled gasp, clutching at the sheets.

Not now. God, not now.

Nate swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor with a muted thud. The room swayed, the shadows seeming to tilt and roll. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms in an effort to anchor herself. The sharp sting brought her back, just enough to remember what she needed to do.

The bathroom. The pills are in the bathroom, Nate.

She forced herself upright, her legs trembling under her weight. Her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, and each step felt like wading through thick, unforgiving mud. Her vision blurred at the edges, black spots creeping in like ink on water.

One step. Another.

The hallway stretched out before her, impossibly long and dark. She braced herself against the wall, her hand skimming over the cold plaster for balance. The floor beneath her seemed to ripple, an unsteady wave that made her stomach churn.

Her mind raced alongside her heart, a chaotic storm of memories and fear. Dimitri’s threats, Katya’s fragile voice, her mother’s warmth… Roman’s hard and unreadable face. Crashing down on her like a tidal wave.

Another step. Her knees buckled, and she slammed into the wall, her palm slipping against the smooth surface. A small, choked cry escaped her lips as the pain in her chest flared, sharp and searing, stealing her breath.

“Almost there,” she whispered to herself, the words trembling on her tongue.

She reached the bathroom door and fumbled for the handle, her shaking fingers struggling to grasp it. Finally, it gave way, and she stumbled inside, the light flickering on overhead with a harsh, fluorescent hum.

The mirror caught her reflection—a ghost staring back. Her face was pale, almost gray, her skin glistening with sweat. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her lips were tinged with a faint blue. She looked like she was dying.

And in that moment, she felt like it.

The cabinet. She forced her focus to the mirrored cabinet above the sink, yanking it open with a wary hand. Bottles clinked together as she shifted through them, her fingers clumsy and desperate. Finally, she found it—the small orange bottle with her name printed on the label.

Nate twisted the cap off and shook two pills into her palm, nearly dropping them as her fingers spasmed. She fumbled for the glass on the counter, filled it with unsteady hands, and swallowed the pills down, the water cool and biting against her dry throat.

She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white as she leaned over, waiting for the storm inside her to subside. Each second stretched unbearably long, her heart still hammering against her ribs like it was punishing her for existing.

Breathe. Just breathe.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of her breath, ragged and uneven as it was. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Over and over, forcing the rhythm to slow, to calm, to remind her that she wasn’t going to die.

Minutes passed before the tightness in her chest began to ease, the erratic fluttering of her heart settling into something that resembled normal. Her hands were still trembling, but the immediate panic had passed, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that made her feel like she’d been hollowed out.

She opened her eyes and looked back at her reflection. The colour was starting to return to her face, but the haunted look in her eyes remained. It always did.

This wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last.

Nate reached for the hand towel and wiped her face, the cool fabric soothing against her clammy skin. She stared at herself for a moment longer, then turned off the light and stepped back into the hallway.

It was no longer empty.

Nate froze in her tracks, her pulse still irregular but now laced with irritation. Standing just outside the bathroom door, leaning casually against the wall, was her Uncle Ivan. Sharp features thrown into stark relief by dim lighting, pale blue eyes cutting through the gloom like ice.

He straightened when he saw her, sweeping over her dishevelled state with a mix of judgement and faint disdain.

“What the hell are you doing skulking outside the bathroom?” she asked raggedly.

Tilting his head, he studied her like she was a particularly uninteresting puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. Finally, he spoke, flatly and far from kind. “I heard noise. Thought maybe you’d had too much to drink again.”

The accusation hung like cigarette smoke, cloying and dismissive.

Nate huffed a breath, pressing her back against the doorframe for support. “Wow, you’re really earning your reputation as the quiet genius of the family tonight, Ivan. Because, yes, clearly I’m getting drunk at—” she glanced at the clock on the hallway wall, “Three in the morning. Alone. In the bathroom. You got me.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, his face unreadable but somehow managing to convey exactly how little he cared for her theatrics. “You reek of desperation,” he said coolly, “And that’s usually when people in this family reach for a bottle. But you’re right—it’s none of my business.”

“Glad we agree,” Nate shot back with a sour smile, pushing herself off the doorframe. She was about to walk past him when the faint sound of muffled voices reached her ears. She paused, glancing toward the direction of the staircase. “What’s that?”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

Her patience, already thin, was evaporating fast. She met his gaze head-on, her own as sharp as broken glass. “You know, I’m getting really tired of not knowing what’s going on in this house…”

She barely saw him move. One moment, she was standing her ground; the next, his hand was wrapping around her arm, his grip iron and unyielding. Before she could pull away, he had backed her up against the wall, his face close enough that she could smell the faint trace of his last cigarette—bitter, like him.

“You should know by now,” he said quietly, “That your father executes plans with precision and secrecy. And you,” his grip tightened slightly, enough to make her audibly wince, “Have proven yourself unreliable.”

Now, Ivan never scared her. Even as the little brother of Dimitri and Sergei Volkov, two of the most menacing people she’d ever come across, that’s all he ever was. Never surpassed that title, always worked to earn that extra bit of notoriety, just to fall back into the same role as messenger or errand boy.

But that word. Unreliable. It hit her.

And the thing was… She knew it. She knew that she’d lost the trust, complete trust, of her father for a while now. Just by being herself, something he scarcely permitted and tried relentlessly to prevent for years. But… why now?

Ivan must have sensed the confusion, and he smirked at his niece with a smugness that matched the disposition of a man who had finally found an ounce of power and clung to it with a vice-like grip.

“Naive Natalka… Who do you think told Mitya about your moment with Roman Reigns at Madame X?”

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh,” she swallowed, “So it was you then… You’re the one who told him about that.” She gritted her teeth and smiled pitifully at her uncle, though her face still twisted with irritation, and perhaps, the slightest trace of betrayal. Wondering if he understood what he’d caused. A further turbulence between father and daughter. An unintentional push in the direction of the enemy.

Maybe Nate should have been thanking him… In some twisted, deflective way.

Maybe if it weren’t for the strain brought on by Dimitri’s knowledge that her daughter was seen drunkenly talking to Roman Reigns in their own club… maybe Nate wouldn’t have considered working with Roman. And then maybe…

No. Don’t go there.

“You’re not my father,” Nate whispered evenly.

“Nyet,” he agreed, releasing her abruptly and stepping back. “But I know him better than you ever will. Sergei, Borislav… even Alexei… We all know him better than you or Katerina ever will.”

The unease that had grown in her chest gnawed at her. Burrowed under her skin. There was something wrong, something she couldn’t place her finger on exactly, couldn’t grasp, but it was there. And she didn’t like it.

Ivan gestured dismissively down the hall. “Go to bed, Natalka. That’s where you belong.”

This time, she didn’t relent; her energy was gone, drained completely, and she had no desire to keep up the facade of defiance any longer. She turned and walked away without a word, her footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor.

But as she reached her door, she couldn’t shake the sense that her uncle’s eyes were still on her, watching her intently, evenly, carefully… like a predator surveying its prey.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Roman sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his face framed by the glow of the laptop in front of him. The familiar hum of tension vibrated just beneath the surface of his composed exterior, though you wouldn’t know it from his subdued expression—impassive, if you may. His eyes flicked to the small grid of silent, blacked-out squares that represented the other participants in the call. Maria’s lawyer, his lawyer, two social workers… All watching without truly being there. Silent observers. Judging eyes.

He hated this.

It should have been simple. A call with his daughter. Just him, Ava, and whatever silly stories she wanted to share about her day. But nothing about this situation was simple anymore. Maria had seen to that.

“You ready for this, Sir?” Paul’s voice cut through the quiet, low and measured. He sat just off–camera, hands clasped in front of him like some kind of watchful guardian angel—or devil, depending on who you asked.

Roman nodded once. “Not like I have a choice, Wiseman.”

Heyman’s gaze softened, just a little. “Remember, they’re waiting for a slip up. Stay calm. Keep it light.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Light.”

With a final click, the call connected, and suddenly, the screen shifted. Ava’s face filled the centre square, her smile so wide it threatened to split her face in two. Her curls were pulled up into a lopsided ponytail, and she waved frantically at the camera.

“Daddy!”

Roman’s features softened instantly, the weight in his chest easing just a fraction. “Hey, baby.” His voice calmed too, warming like sunlight through storm clouds.

“I missed you so much!” Ava chirped, bouncing a little in her seat.

“I missed you more.” He leaned in a little closer, as if it would somehow bridge the distance between them. “What’s goin’ on? How’s school?”

Ava’s eyes lit up. “Guess what? We did this thing today about animals, and I picked wolves because they’re cool and they’re kinda like you. Like, you’re a leader and stuff!”

Roman chuckled, dropping his eyes briefly. “Yeah? Wolves, huh? I like that. What else did you learn?”

She launched into an animated description of her project, her hands moving wildly as she described wolf packs and how they worked together. Roman listened intently, nodding at all the right moments, never averting his gaze from hers. For a few minutes, it was easy to forget about the silent audience lurking just beyond the screen.

“Did you draw a picture of your wolf pack?”

“Uh-huh!” Ava disappeared from the frame for a second, then reappeared holding up a piece of paper covered in crayon drawings. “That’s me in the middle,” she explained, pointing to a smaller wolf with a bright pink bow. “And that’s you next to me ‘cause you’re the alpha!”

“You made me the alpha, huh?” Roman grinned. “I like it. You did a good job, baby, really good.”

Ava beamed, her pride shining through the screen. “Thank you, Daddy!”

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Roman caught the faint flicker of movement in one of the dark squares. Just a subtle shift, like someone adjusting in their seat. The reminder hit him like an icy slap.

The lawyers. The social workers. The goddamn spectators.

His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay focused on Ava. It wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault.

“You still doin’ your gymnastics?” he asked, steering the conversation back to safer ground.

Ava nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! I’m practicing my cartwheels. Mommy says I need to work on keeping my legs straight, though.”

“Yeah, that’s important,” Roman chuckled. “You’ll get it. Just keep practicing. You’re already better than me, and I never even tried.”

She giggled, like pure music to his ears. “Maybe you should try, Daddy! Then we can do cartwheels together!”

“Oh, I dunno about that, baby, I’m a little old for cartwheels.” He gave her a mock-serious look, which made her laugh even harder.

“Daddy, you’re not old!”

“I’m not?” He raised an eyebrow, playing along. “I feel pretty old.”

“Nope. You’re strong… like a wolf!”

Roman smiled, a rush of genuine warmth shooting straight for his heart. “I’ll take that.”

They kept talking, the conversation bouncing from school to her favourite cartoons to what she wanted for Christmas. Roman soaked up every word, storing them away like precious treasures.

But even as he laughed with her, a darker thought lingered at the edges of his mind. The last conversation he’d had with Nate.

The bruise on her cheek, the casual way in which she’d admitted that her father had hit her. The rage he’d felt then simmered beneath the surface now, feeding into the frustration of this whole situation.

The idea that he had to prove to these strangers that he wasn’t like that, that he wasn’t the kind of man who would ever hurt his daughter—it made his blood boil.

He took a deep breath, pushing it down. Focus. Stay calm.

Ava was talking about a classmate now, something about a boy named Tyler who always stole the blue crayons. Roman listened, nodding along.

“Next time, you tell Tyler that if he wants the blue crayon, he’s gotta ask nicely,” he said.

“Okay, Daddy.” She paused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Or I could just take it back.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, or that… But remember—be nice first, okay?”

“Okay.”

They talked for a little while longer, until eventually, Maria’s voice cut in from somewhere off-screen, telling Ava it was time to say goodbye.

“I don’t wanna go yet!” Ava protested, her face falling.

“I know, baby, but we’ll talk again soon, okay? Real soon.” Roman’s voice softened. “Ti amo, bambina.”

“Ti amo anch’io papá.”

The screen went dark, and the call ended.

Roman pushed back from his desk, shutting the laptop with a little more force than necessary. He let out a slow, measured exhale, his shoulders still tight from the silent tension in the call.

“Not bad, my Tribal Chief,” Heyman offered, standing up from his spot in the corner. Whilst Roman didn’t directly acknowledge the compliment, the Wiseman knew what they meant. What he meant. To Roman.

Paul followed closely behind as Roman strode toward the door with his brain already one step ahead, already moving to what was next. But when he opened the door, he found Solo standing there like a stone sentinel. Arms crossed, stoically unreadable, a sheer presence that filled the hallway.

Roman blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his cousin’s appearance. “What are you doin’?” he asked.

Solo remained calm, still looking ahead of him. “Just makin’ sure no one’s sneakin’ around. Don’t need pryin’ eyes or ears up here.”

For a beat, Roman’s brow furrowed in confusion. Then it clicked, and he rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Man, you serious right now? You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm, doin’ all this paranoid shit.” His tone carried a blend of humour and irritation, the kind of blunt honesty that only family could get away with.

“Just lookin’ out.” Solo shrugged.

Roman shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Ain’t got time for that.” He brushed past Solo, leading the way down the hall and toward the stairs.

The living room stretched out before them as they descended, the wide open-plan space bustling with quiet activity. The hum of muted conversations mixed with an occasional burst of laughter, creating a strange yet comforting harmony.

At the coffee table, Tamina and Nate sat side by side on the couch, a laptop open between them. Nate’s posture was relaxed, slightly hunched forward as her eyes narrowed at the screen, scrolling through with her delicate fingers stroking over the touchpad. Tamina leaned back, one arm draped over the couch, but her attention was clearly on Nate.

Across the room, Jimmy and Sami were huddled at the dining table, surrounded by a chaotic mess of papers—the same ones from the folder Seth had handed over. Sami was gesturing animatedly, his voice low but intense, while Jimmy nodded along, occasionally jotting something down.

In the background, the sound of Naomi and Jey playing table tennis at the counter could be heard, with a level of competitiveness that was somehow both serious and ridiculous. Naomi was clearly winning, and Jey’s loud groan of frustration served as temporary punctuation marks.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Roman’s arms rested at his sides as he took it all in. As usual, his eyes landed on Nate again, almost feeling a small jolt in his chest that left as quickly as it came.

She looked… at home.

There she was, smack in the middle of everything, like she’d always been there. Like she belonged there. Her leather jacket was draped casually over the back of the couch, leaving her in a red lace bralette, the deep crimson standing out against her light olive skin—a contrast that made her dark hair and sharp features even more vivid. Her black jeans and studded boots completed the look entirely. Effortless. Lethal. All at once.

But it wasn’t just what she was wearing. It rarely ever was. It was the way she carried herself, the way her brow furrowed ever so slightly in concentration as she worked. That subtle scowl of hers—the one that hinted at some quiet anger or irritation—was there and damn if it didn’t stir something in him.

Roman let himself linger a second longer than he should’ve, tracing the curve of her jaw, the slight downturn of her lips. She was gorgeous. No, she was more than that. She was magnetic. Pulling him in when he knew better.

She fit it in too well, and that was dangerous.

He blinked, forcing himself to look away, sweeping over the room again, yet still… he always circled back to her.

She’s just workin’ with Tamia, he reminded himself. That’s it.

But the thought didn’t settle the way it should’ve. It idled, heavily.

For a man who prided himself on control, Roman hated how easily she could make him forget himself.

“Y’all look busy,” he said finally, breaking the easy tone of the room. He stepped forward, commanding everybody’s attention without asking for it. Heads turned toward him, but Nate didn’t immediately look up. She stayed focused on whatever was on the screen, only glancing his way after so long. And when she did, that scowl softened slightly, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile.

Roman felt the corner of his own mouth tug upward, almost involuntarily. Damn, she’s trouble.

He decided to walk over to Jimmy and Sami, glancing at the table cluttered with papers and the glowing laptop screen in front of them. Sami’s fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, muttering to himself in a low, focused voice. Jimmy leaned back in his chair, clicking a pen with one hand and rubbing the other over his face like he’d been staring at the same document for too long.

“What we got?” Roman asked, folding his arms and looking between them.

“Shattered Dreams Armory,” Sami started, his eyes glued to the laptop. “Formed in Florida in the ‘90s. Seemed to have shifted their base to Queens around ‘07… They keep their heads low. A few permits here, some sketchy tax records there, but no solid names. It’s like chasing ghosts.”

Roman exhaled slowly. “Ghosts don’t steal shipments.”

“Right,” Sami agreed. “But if we’re looking at their trade volume, they’re moving serious weight. Weapons, ammo, maybe even more. They need a warehouse—a big one. And they’ve been doing this for years without getting caught.”

Jimmy finally stopped his pen-clicking, which had started to drive Roman crazy. “You think they the ones who lifted the shipment?”

“Their bullet was at the scene, of course it had to have been them. Or affiliated…”

Sami shrugged. “It’s frustrating as hell, but they seem to be good at covering their tracks.”

Jimmy, for a moment—just a split second—exchanged a glance with Solo, who was standing over by the stairs, listening in. His face scrunched up as he shifted in his seat, something clearly springing to mind. He hoped Roman missed it, but he didn’t. Roman rarely missed a thing.

“What was that?”

The older Uso hesitated, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Uh, nothin’, Uce. Just… remembering stuff.”

“Remember it out loud, Jim.” Roman’s patience was hanging by a thread.

Before Jimmy could respond, Nate’s sharp intake of breath sliced through the conversation.

“Oh my God…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried across the room like a gunshot.

Everyone turned to her. She was on her feet, paling in the face, eyes locked on the laptop screen in front of her. Tamina was beside her, a hand on her arm with a face equally grim.

“Nate?” Roman called over to her, instantly alert.

She didn’t respond right away. Her hand ran over her hair, gripping onto it as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. It was Tamina who spoke first, keeping her voice low.

“She found somethin’, Ro. And it ain’t good.”

Roman was already moving, leaving Sami and Jimmy behind as he crossed the room to crouch down beside Nate once she’d slowly sat back down to get a better look at the screen.

“Nate,” he said again, a little quieter this time. “What is it?”

Blinking, her focus finally shifted from the laptop to his face, her teeth gnawing together in fury in horror. “Alexei,” she hissed.

Roman furrowed his eyebrows. “What about him?”

She sighed heavily, moving her hair from her face as she picked up the laptop to place it on her lap. “I needed Tamina because… I wanted to pull some records. Needed to know who my dad is forcing my sister to marry, right?” She paused and swallowed hard. “And now I wish I hadn’t.”

Roman glanced over at Tamina, who gave a subdued nod. “Worse than we thought.”

“Worse how?” Roman demanded.

Nate’s voice dropped as she turned the laptop in Roman’s direction, heavy with disgust. “Alexei Lebedev. Born in Moscow. Came to the US in the 90s. Started small—drugs, weapons. By the mid 2000s, he’d expanded into uh—” Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the bile crawling its way up inside her. “Expanded into… human trafficking. Girls as young as fifteen, Roman. Fifteen. He’s a monster.”

The room went dead silent. Even Sami, who had been quietly working in the background, froze, his face a mask of shock and disgust.

Roman’s expression darkened, his jaw tightened so intensely that it looked like it might shatter. His nose twitched, and his tongue ran over his teeth as he took a moment to compose himself, looking down and rolling his neck. When he looked back up, the brown in his eyes had darkened to pools of tar. “You sure?”

Nate nodded slowly. “It’s all here,” she confirmed with more resolve. “He’s been running this for years. And it gets worse… He’s tied to these hate organisations, neo-Nazi groups. Racist, homophobic, misogynistic—you name it, he embodies it.”

Tamina added, “There’s also evidence out there of him being involved in hate crimes in the city. Assaults, even murder. The guy’s a tickin’ time bomb, Ro.”

“And my father wants Katya to fucking marry him,” Nate spat. “Selling her off to this… this… evil bastard.”

Roman and Nate locked onto each other, the former taking in the latter’s rage and pain that radiated from her. It wasn’t often that he saw her this rattled, not even when she opened up about her dad. But it stirred something deep down in his gut.

“You’re not gonna let that happen,” he said finally, full of conviction.

Nate’s eyebrow arched up, nostrils flaring a little as her chest started heaving. “Fucking right I’m not,” she declared through gritted teeth.

“I’ve already started gathering more,” Tamina added, “We’ll get everything we need to bury him.”

Roman stood, looking down at Nate with narrowed eyes. “Good,” he responded to Tamina, despite the fact he was looking at Nate. “Keep digging.” He finally looked at his older cousin. “I want every dirty little secret this bastard has ever tried to hide.”

Nate leaned back on the couch, almost obsessively scrolling through the pages they’d found on the laptop, muttering a small “thank you.”

Tamina gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got this.”

“Take a breather,” Roman told Nate after lingering on her a moment further, noting the tough exterior cracking enough for him to see the depth of her fury. But she shook her head defiantly.

“I’m not stopping until I know everything.”

And for once, Roman didn’t argue. Instead, he turned and gave a small nod toward Jimmy and Sami. “Go get Naomi and Jey.” He looked over at Solo. “You get over here too. We need everyone on this.” He then looked over at Paul, who had been sitting silently observing and analysing the scene with a muted look of horror behind his eyes.

Tamina shifted on the couch and stood up. “I’ll make a few calls. See if I can pull anything else. Back in a minute.”

Nate stayed seated, staring at the coffee table. The others began filing out, conversations low and tense. Tamina patted her shoulder as she passed.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

Nate nodded tightly, but the answer was a blatant lie.

Once the door shut behind Tamina, and Paul and Solo had both disappeared for a retrieval of coffee, the silence pained Nate, the pressure intensifying in her ears. She tried to shake off the lingering dread, but she could feel Roman watching her, waiting.

She stood abruptly, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “This is my mess,” she muttered, shaking her head, more to herself than to him. “I can handle it. I don’t need everyone dropping everything for me.”

Roman leaned back against the edge of the dining table, crossing his arms as he just watched her every move. Back and forth.

She kept talking, rambling. “You need to focus on the shipment. Seth’s intel, everything with whoever took out Priest—this is too important. I’ll deal with the Alexei thing, I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to—”

“Nate.”

She ignored him, still pacing. “Change your plans because of me. It’s not worth it. I’m not w–”

“Nate.”

This time, Roman’s voice cut through her like a machete, low and firm. Before she could take another step, he was in front of her, large, gargantuan hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes flickered up, reluctant but ultimately obedient. She was met with the full force of his gaze, dark and intense, burning with what she couldn’t decipher. Anger, maybe. Something deeper, possibly.

“You don’t get to decide what’s worth it,” Roman said with a low and controlled tone, albeit dangerous in its quiet fury. “You should’ve told me. If I knew this was about Alexei, findin’ shit on this guy, I’d have done this myself.”

Nate opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head, silencing her. His grip tightened just enough to ground her, not hurt her. “Half a shipment goin’ missing is nothing. Some guns? That’s replaceable. But a trafficker? A man who’s been runnin’ girls like fuckin’ livestock? That’s a whole different level. You think I’m gon’ let a monster like that exist in my world?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the venom in his words.

“I don’t want that sack of shit in my yard,” Roman continued, lowering his voice further, each word as deliberate as they could get. “You think this is about you? This is bigger than you. Bigger than me. This is about family.”

Nate’s breath hitched, the word hanging from his lips like a challenge. Family.

“I’m not your family, Roman,” she muttered.

Roman’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through his otherwise serious expression. “Gettin’ there, Princess,” he hummed, and it stumped her so much that she almost laughed.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

His hands dropped from her shoulders, but he didn’t step back. They were still standing so close, too close.

A moment passed of them just staring at each other until Roman’s face softened, just a fraction, as if letting his guard down like he had in the dark, early in the morning, weeks ago. “You feel this for Katya,” he said. “The way I feel for Ava. I get it”

Her throat tightened. She hadn’t expected him to make such an introspective assessment of her thoughts.

“And God be damned if I let him outstay his welcome on this earth.”

With a harsh swallow, Nate nodded slowly. The fire in her belly reignited, tempered now by a sense of purpose. The door creaked open, and the spell broke. Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, Solo, Paul, and Tamina filtered back in, the tension thickening again as the group reassembled. Roman stepped back, but his gaze never left Nate’s.

Tamina walked over to Nate, resuming their conversation like nothing had happened. “We’ll gather everything we can find… and then we’ll get him.”

Roman, standing off to the side, watched them for a beat longer. His eyes flicked to Nate, and when she glanced back, he gave her a small wink.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But she saw it. It was there.

And she liked it.

But what she liked more was the idea of taking down Alexei. And like Roman said… his presence on Earth had been long overstood. Simply burying the man would never be enough.

She’d have to make sure he’d only wish for his own demise once she was done with him. And whether Roman helped her or not…

Alexei Lebedev had to die.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

21 notes · View notes

syuga-s · 10 months ago

Text

who do you blame?

w.c. 11.9k pairing. Yoongi x fem!reader, Taehyung x fem!reader genre. hello again ANGST, slight smut, romance a/n. NSFW MDNI !!! curse words, alcohol, sexual content (just fingering this time),, i may or may not have a second part to this fic 😼 ENJOY pookies <3

Don’t know if I can call it insomnia if I literally sleep at this hour all the time.

I want to dye my hair black again.

But this restlessness feels different.

Maybe that third cup of coffee’s doing its thing.

I was so close to having a panic attack; I did cry, though. And I still want to for a variety of reasons.

I’ve been thinking about a lot of things this week. I really want to see Yoongi like, right now. That’s how I know I’m not doing well.

Lately, I’ve been pondering the idea of resentment and how it means that envy is the emotion you’re feeling. At first, I dismissed it because how do you go from one emotion to a completely different one? But hell maybe they’re right.

I may envy people and their ability to forget how someone else made them feel. Or how they’re able to just overlook someone’s actions. Because I can’t do that. I take everything to heart.

How can you not when those actions were directed at you? Even though I’m used to excusing them and saying, “maybe they’re going through something big, and I just got the short end of the stick,” “maybe they didn’t actually mean it,” or the great, “maybe you’re not the only one that they treated like that, don’t feel so special.”

Alright, but why does it have to happen? Is it that tough to be considerate of someone’s feelings?

Good thing I haven’t texted Yoongi. I’m pretty sure I’m having a weak moment.

Do I want to keep up with that mess? Because that’s what it is.

I just can’t stop thinking about him. I think I miss him. But I refuse to be the one that reaches out for him this time. I’m still pondering if I genuinely miss him or if I’m just fucking lonely again.

Pretty sure it’s the second one.

At the same time, I wish he would grow up more and be ready for something serious.

“Sooooo… I dyed my hair again last night,” you confessed to Gemma on the phone. She was on her way to your house to pick you up because tonight you two were attending a concert.

Your best friend sighed, and you could practically imagine them rolling their eyes. “What color is it this time?” Gemma sounded exasperated, but she wasn’t; it didn’t even surprise her anymore. All her concerns were how you managed to not fry your hair whenever you wanted another makeover.

“I guess it looks kind of black?” You muttered and pressed your lips while you waited for your friend to say something.

“UGH, I can’t wait to see you!,” “you better be ready too because I’m hungry, and you know our pho place closes early!”

“I know, I know. Surprisingly, I AM ready; I’m just looking for my keys.”

This was your and Gemma’s ritual almost every Friday or Saturday night, depending on your plans. Tonight, it was Friday, and you had your usual king size pho, talking about work, your hair on this occasion, and most importantly, the band you were going to watch in a few hours.

You forgot to mention how you’ve been feeling about Yoongi. You thought that conversation could be saved for another time.

As soon as you arrived at the venue, the band came out.

It was one of these L.A. indie bands that both of you discovered this same year. Whenever Gemma was over at your place, you always ended up watching their music videos, fawning over the vocalist. So, when you found out they were doing a concert soon, you knew you had to be there.

It lasted around an hour, which was a little underwhelming compared to the other concerts you’ve attended. Still, all was forgotten because that damn vocalist was as dreamy as you imagined.

When the concert ended, Gemma and you found yourselves a table to keep talking over drinks. You didn’t count on Sam, one of your other friends, calling and telling you she was coming over.

You didn’t usually mixed your plans, but it felt kind of inevitable tonight.

You also thought the place felt kind of dead and guessed it wouldn’t hurt to have more people with you.

Sam arrived with her brother’s girlfriend. Before anything else could be said, they both said, “This place is dead.”

“What were you doing in here?”

You laughed at the confused expression your friend had on her face. She knew you were at a concert, but you then explained you were just sitting and drinking, nothing special.

“We should go somewhere else! What do you say about going downtown?” The brother’s girlfriend addressed you.

You pursed your lips and turned to look at Gemma to ask her what she wanted to do. “I’m staying over with you, so I’m giving you the privilege of deciding.” You smiled at your friend and thought about it. You wanted to keep drinking; it was barely 11 p.m.

You turned to Sam to tell her it was okay, but before you opened your mouth, she tried to convince you, “Come on, let’s just go for a while; Hoseok’s over there with some friends!”

Hoseok is Sam’s brother.

Hoseok is Yoongi’s best friend.

It’s pretty evident that wherever Hoseok was, Yoongi was there too.

Fuck, did I manifest this?

“Let’s go then.”

What a miracle, what a coincidence.

A kiss on the cheek. All kind. Warm greetings—the kind that makes you want to kill whoever invented manners. You see each other from time to time, often at random places and gatherings like tonight.

You haven’t seen Yoongi in over ten months.

You haven’t seen him since that last date you had. If you can call it that.

Last year, life was kicking your ass, and Yoongi was everything you had. You truly needed someone, and he stayed with you throughout the messiest months of your life. He was your everything.

You were perfectly aware he was never going to be serious about you. He’s been in your life for eight years, and both of you have left the other countless times before. You two were just a bad joke. You never understood why he always insisted on coming back to your life just for him to treat you like always. Never something special. Never been the exception, always the rule.

But for those seven months, he acted like the person you always wanted him to be. You knew you were both a joke, but you always liked what “us” meant with him.

Last Christmas was the first time you spent a holiday together. It felt so important to you back then as if life was finally going your way.

You never expected what he had to say to you right on that day.

“First of all, Merry Christmas, honey”. He smiled as he looked at you. “You know I’ll always wish for you and your family to be healthy. I know this is important to you, but I’m sure you can rest a bit about that matter from now on.”

“I’m really happy you’re spending these days with me. You know I’m not fond of the holidays, but I want you to know this feels important to me.”

“I genuinely, truly, really want to keep you with me and for us to go out as much as we can, if you want to, of course. Because to be honest, if it were up to me, we would be doing a bunch of stuff together all the time, but it’s not just a matter of me wanting, so I hope you’d like that too.”

With his words, you went through all the emotions known to mankind. It’s been the first time you’ve heard something like that coming from him, and you felt strange. Thinking how you may have wanted that for years, now when it’s actually happening, you feel so disconnected from yourself, you start to think, “What can he possibly like in me? I’ve only shown him chaos these past months.”

But as soon as that thought crossed your mind, your heart told you, “Yet, he’s still here.”

He made you feel safe, so you committed to being the best version of yourself once again. After all you’ve been through, he’s never stopped being so good and patient with you.

He’s always going to have a piece of your heart.

Then came the inevitable change of heart one of you had every time.

This time, it happened to him. Of course.

You were supposed to go out one night, but you ended up going home in the middle of the “date.”

It’s like you weren’t talking to Yoongi anymore. He was acting cold, apathetic, indifferent, you name it.

You felt awful on your way home. You didn’t even want to think about the reason for his attitude towards you.

You wanted to feel hopeful, happy, and even in love, but it didn’t feel like that anymore. You wanted to trust in what Yoongi had told you just a few weeks ago. Maybe it was just something you wanted to hear, but you didn’t catch on to the intentions behind his words.

I actually fell for it this time.

There have been multiple times when you told yourself there was no future for you two. Why do you keep staying? It just makes you feel like shit in the end.

I just keep building unrealistic expectations, as if there was actually someone who could save me from my own problems1.

This time, you were hoping he was tired of you and would finally choose not to be with you anymore.

Farewell comes. Once again, you bury memories deep in the deepest ocean. Then it comes back and floats up.

There were eight people sitting close together at a little round table, and to your luck, you ended up facing Yoongi.

Beer never stopped coming to your table.

You had an impressive way of acting as if everything was normal. You were always like this. Of course, Yoongi made you angry, but you’ve never resented him for something. Acting full of hostility in front of both of your friends would never be one of your goals.

On some other occasion, maybe you would’ve ignored him and his glances, but you can’t deny that you’ve wanted to see and talk to him for the past few weeks.

Your friends weren’t fond of your “relationship,” yet they were always curious about how you two treated each other whenever you saw each other after a while. Everyone always knew when you two were together and how many months you had spent without talking.

You can’t tell if that’s good or not, but everyone knew it was just a matter of time before you started seeing each other again.

Tonight was going well. You haven’t seen Hoseok or the other guys in a while. Aside from whatever you had with Yoongi, they were your friends, too. Not too long ago, you always went out on weekends to bars, parties, and the occasional concerts.

Ever since you distanced yourself from them a little, they got into relationships. It wasn’t until today that you actually spent time with them and their partners and got to know them a little.

Jimin was sitting on your right, and eventually, you found yourselves talking apart from the others. He started telling you about his partner and how he got in a little fight with them over whether it’s right or not to look at other people at the gym.

Later, the others were all over that topic, arguing whether it was socially acceptable or not to look at someone else at the gym while your partner was there with you. All the alcohol you’ve drank made itself present. Your overall volume rose with each minute, with everyone voicing their opinions.

You had already told tipsy Jimin your point of view, so you got fed up with the subject when it turned into an actual discussion between Hoseok and his partner.

Sam and Gemma were still talking with Jimin over what he did, his partner’s words, and whatnot. So you found your chance to get up and go to the jukebox.

It took less than two minutes of you looking through the catalog when you suddenly saw a tall figure standing by your side.

“Hi,” he said.

You turned to look straight into his eyes. “Hi.”

“You look radiant, better than before.”

You bit your smile back and answered, “can’t complain.” Still searching for a song.

He came closer to you, “we meet again.”

A smile escaped from you. “It’s been almost a year, huh.”

Now they’re walking on ice. To see who slips first. No strings intertwined. They were never anything, but there was always something.

“I know, it’s crazy.” He wasn’t going to waste any more time. “Can we meet later?”

There was something.

“My friend is staying over.” You had already picked two songs but still had three more credits.

“I can come by.”

You were thinking hard about which songs to pick, but Yoongi was making it really hard to concentrate.

Of course, I want you to come over. Yet, I still want to hang on to the small remains of my pride.

“I think it would be better if we go out sometime this week if you want.”

Filled with anxiety over what you were arranging, you started tapping your fingers against the machine, not remembering which artist you were looking for in the first place.

“I thought you no longer wanted to see me.”

You lifted your chin to look at him and gave him a smirk. “Well,” you said with a nervous laugh, “I did, but I can’t lie to you; I’ve been thinking about you for days.”

“Why?”

“Why? What do you mean why?”

“I don’t know, I thought you were done with me.”

“Yoongi, we can’t talk about that here.”

You were finally searching for the last song. “Well, I’ll see you at your house later.”

Again, you turned to look at him but gave him an annoyed expression. You kept going through Pink Floyd’s songs, your distress not letting you find your favorite song by them.

“Can I? Just for a while. I want to talk to you.”

“Talk about what Yoongi?”

Finally, <The Great Gig in the Sky>.

“About why you left like that back then.”

You finally turned your whole body to answer him, “Alright then, you can come by later.” And with that, you returned to your seat at the table. Everyone asked what took you so long, and while you explained that you couldn’t find the songs you wanted, Yoongi came back to his seat, too. All eyes were on you, his included.

It actually got you happy that he talked to you first.

Untethered intertwining. They were never anything, but there was always something.

Sam, Hoseok, and his girlfriend left around 2 a.m., but the rest of you kept finding things to talk about.

You never stopped drinking, but you weren’t feeling drunk yet. In one of your trips to the bathroom, Gemma told you she liked Yoongi for the first time, and it got you all giddy. As you were walking back, you and Yoongi couldn’t take your eyes off of each other. Both of you were getting impatient to finally be alone again.

You’re both talking to your friends, and you’re laughing, and you look across the table. You’re not even far apart, but you catch each other’s eyes, and it’s this secret that exists right there, unnoticed, and no one else knows about it, no one else but you and Yoongi.

The rest of your friends were already drunk, so he told you, “We should go.”

“Come on, I’ll take you both home.”

Gemma hopped in the back of his car, and you got yourself in the passenger seat.

All your actions were too familiar for someone who hasn’t seen this guy in over ten months.

The next thing you knew, your phone connected automatically to his car, and he urged you to put some music on.

It was until this moment, on your way to your house, that you realized you were very drunk. You don’t even remember which playlist or songs you played.

When you arrived home, you gathered all your might to get Gemma inside. (Yoongi helped you open all the doors and, most importantly, carry Gemma to your room).

You got Gemma into your bed, changed her clothes, and left her a glass of water on your bedside table. You also used the moment to gulp a glass of water yourself. Meanwhile, Yoongi was already settled in your living room, his eyes not leaving you. Lying on your couch, recognizing when you were feeling more than tipsy. “Are you drunk?”

His voice scared you for a second. You did not realize he was still there or that he was watching your every move. Your smile gave away that you were indeed feeling a little drunk.

“A little? Maybe?”

The way he laughs always gets you. It has this cute yet manly note that you’ve always loved so much.

You curled up on your couch next to Yoongi, facing him. You truly wanted to hear what he wanted to talk about, but this newfound comfort of being on your couch made you sleepy. At the same time, the way he was looking at you was letting the alcohol in your system wear out.

His heavy gaze no longer made you think about talking with him. All you wanted was for him to hold you and kiss you like he used to as if he couldn’t wait any longer to press his lips on yours, to interrupt you while you were saying something with a kiss filled with the desire you both had for the other.

“Are you dating someone else?” His question shocked you. You looked at him wide-eyed. Yoongi looked directly at your eyes like they were the only thing in the room, fearing that if he looked somewhere else, he’d miss the truth coming from your eyes.

Your face turned into a frown, and drinking in his words confused you. You sat straight to ask your first question, but he beat you to it. “Is that why you left me?” The blood drained from your face.

Is he serious? Is he genuinely clueless? Or is he just being stupid?

“Is that what you want to hear? That I’ve been dating around?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that you disappeared again; if you wanted me to go to hell, you could’ve said so.”

“What are you even saying, Yoongi?”

“I thought you were dating someone.” He let out what must have been a bitter laugh.

“Well, I’m not… I don’t have time to go out with ‘people’.”

Do you even know why it’s so goddamn impossible for me to let you go? Because every song, every moment, and every person reminds me of you.

Why did you even want to see him this time around? Have you ever thought about that? It didn’t even matter because it was always the same. You suddenly forget how you feel or whatever you wanted to say as soon as you’re in front of him. Even if you said something, he wasn’t going to listen. He never does.

“Are you dating someone?”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about. I need to know why you left me that night.”

“So, you are dating someone...”

“Just tell me why you left me.”

“Fine, I bet I won’t even remember this in the morning,” you laugh softly, maybe in preparation for what you would say next.

You collapse back onto your couch, sighing as your head sinks into the soft cushions. Your eyes drift upward, fixating on the blank expanse of the ceiling above you.

“It’s just that… I don’t know; that day, you were acting so strange toward me, and I truly thought you weren’t my Yoongi anymore. It’s like you were dying to get out of there, and I figured it would be better if I was the one who left first”. You smiled, but everyone could have seen the bitterness behind it. “I trust- no, I hoped… that what you told me that you wanted for us was true, but I couldn’t see a trace of that in you anymore. I didn’t want to turn into an anxious mess and think about you non-stop or… try to find out why you acted like that, so yeah, I left you again.”

He felt a tightness in his chest when he heard you say, “My Yoongi.” It wasn’t helping that your words sounded so real to him at that moment. This was easily the third time he’d seen you somewhat vulnerable. He was going to regret talking about this.

“Do you want me to ask you what was going on with you that day?” Your head was still on the couch, but it was now turned to get a better look at his face. You were still smiling.

He thought, Why is she smiling? Why is she always smiling?

“But you said you weren’t gonna remember this in the morning.” There goes his sweet laugh again.

“We can try.”

“Can we try with a kiss instead?”

Only the sound of cars driving by could be heard.

You don’t even remember that kiss anymore.

That should have been a dead giveaway that everything was bound to turn out very wrong after that night.

The following days were even worse. Your conversations over text were boring and awkward. You felt that he was being an ass on purpose, as if he was making you pay for what you “put” him through. Sick and tired. That’s how you were beginning to feel towards this ongoing joke. Over the week, you started remembering the first thing you wrote about him. It was the first time you’d drifted apart.

“I want to see you. I want to be with you now. I hate feeling this needy. I like you so much that I don’t know what to do with all these emotions. Remember that night when we kissed for the first time? Our lips touched, and I think my heart lost its rhythm for a few minutes. It’s okay if you don’t remember it the way I do. But I want you to know that I’ll never forget how you made me feel that night. I think I fell in love with you since then. I’ve missed you almost every day since you left. I realized that I look pretty when I’m sad, but I look prettier when somebody says your name, and I smile uncontrollably. I wish I could explain the physical pain I feel inside my chest when I think about you. And I wish that pain could be erased if we’re being honest. I don’t know what’s wrong with us. I’m running out of ideas to make this work, and I feel like if I don’t do something to save us, you won’t do it either; even though I know you care, I know you’re just going to stand there, arms crossed watching everything drift away. I can’t get out of my head that time you said that you felt that you were hurting me instead of making me feel good, and I said that sometimes I think I hate you. I swear I didn’t mean it. It’s just that I’m too scared of losing you for good because I have this feeling that I won’t feel like this ever again; I’m afraid I’ll have to lose this part of myself that feels genuinely in love with someone. I thought we were made for each other. I thought you were one of my soulmates. I still think we are. But we keep fucking it up every single time. I won’t lie; I’m fine some days, but the smallest things break me. I know it’s not your fault that I’m so damn sensitive, but my feelings have always been this intense, this is who I am, and I was hoping that you would learn to love the whole mess that I am just as much as I love yours. It’s not that I can’t be with someone else and forget about you—I know I can—but I don’t want to be without you. I don’t know what it is about this day, but my head feels so much heavier when we’re having problems. I feel mad at you, and I bet you’re mad at me, too. Have I always been this hard? Or are you just realizing that being with me is a lot of work and I’m not worth it? I’m not ready to let you go. You’re the only guy I’ve ever wanted to keep around. You treat me so well when we’re together. I love when you take my hand in yours. I love every time it’s just you and me, and we talk about life. There’s no one for me but you. You’re the only face I can see. I hope you know I’m only pretending to hate you when I love you so much. After all, I’ll always hope it’s you and me in the end. I’m happy if I get to be with you.”

That was seven fucking years ago. Funny huh?

It was never supposed to turn out like this. Who would’ve thought that someone could pull you down like this under the guise of love? Was it really only an individual’s fault?

Did it keep going because no one wanted to be the bad guy? If we didn’t have feelings for each other, if we didn’t think of each other, would we have dragged it on like this?

Those words played over and over again in your head. Whenever you came to be together again, that was eventually all you wondered about.

That first letter was born when the first layer that was blinding you was uncovered. It was as if something was finally letting you see the shape of the person Yoongi was—or at least the person he was with you.

Next year. The second “letter” came.

“Everything’s been so weird lately. I don’t get you. You didn’t talk to me for three days, yet you still think I’ll say yes when you want to see me late at night when you finally feel like it? Seriously? I’m angry at you, but mostly, I’m angry at myself. How can I be so blind to not realize that nothing will ever happen between us? Why am I still here? I know it’s because I want to be with someone, but maybe that person is not you. Because if you wanted to, we would be something by now. I know you won’t ever change because it’s been 2 years since this started, and you’re still the same. Maybe I fell in love with the hope and longing. All I did was imagine myself with you, I thought I was being patient about us. I can’t help but be a hopeless romantic, that’s all I’ve been my whole life. Occasionally, I find myself doing dumb shit all the time, like apologizing to the stars on behalf of both of us for not keeping our promises. I’ve been thinking about how sad I have been lately. Telling myself I’m stupid for loving you after all you’ve made me go through, how useless I feel, and how painful every day gets, honestly, this love I feel for you is making me crazy. But I shouldn’t be worrying about this. I know it may seem complicated to live with a broken heart, crying until your tears make you blind. I keep saying to myself, “It’s time you get yourself together, fall in love with yourself again, and forgive yourself for thinking you were stupid when you only acted out of love for someone who couldn’t see all you were.” But let’s be honest, being aware of all this still doesn’t make it any easier. I still feel so lost. And confused. I wish I knew how to stop loving you. I miss my peace of mind. I know what I’m supposed to do but don’t know where to start. I know that one day we’ll cross paths again, and I won’t feel a thing anymore, but until then, I’ll keep trying to convince myself that I don’t want you anymore. What have you done to me? What have I done to myself? What is it about you that ended up putting me through this hell? For the past few months, we barely saw each other. I still remember the last words we exchanged, and I feel sick, I keep wishing you would’ve done something else, hoping you would’ve said something different, but wishing for this doesn’t matter anymore, I’ll just keep hurting myself if I keep thinking about this version of you that I kept romanticizing. I’m tired now. All this was too much for me. But let me tell you one thing. I never even thought for a second that I was wasting my time with you. Not even when all my friends told me so. I took pride in myself for “knowing” when a guy doesn’t want you, but you were so confusing. You used to always be there. You knew exactly what to do and what to say so I could keep my love alive, making me think that maybe one day we would be together, but now I’m truly fed up with you. I’m angry. I know I can live without talking to you, but I don’t think I can be in the same room with you and not feel a thing. I’m telling you this because I want you to understand me. I want us to end on good terms because I know it’ll be impossible for us to stop seeing each other. So please help me, because this won’t be easy for me. I still care about you. I love you, but I can’t do this anymore. I need to keep crying, but understand me, I’m not crying for you. It’s just that I have so much inside me that I could never say to you. I know now that I was too much for you.”

In the span of two years, all that relationship lay before your eyes, yet somehow you didn’t want to see it. You decided to keep your hope alive even if it hurt you.

Several breakups between the two of you. A few relationships with other people in the middle of it all. Countless times you wanted to run to him just one more time. The occasional texts came from him, asking how you were and if you wanted to meet again.

You tried to be strong most of the time. You even felt you had gotten over Yoongi on every period where you’d stopped running into him. Those were the times when it was easy. But it was also quite embarrassing how quickly you’d fall into his trap once he got into your head again.

So yeah, you caved in after that kiss from last night.

You were letting this happen. You wanted this on this occasion.

It should be fine, right?

Eventually, after a few weeks, both of you started sorting out your emotions and everything felt pretty normal again.

Why do I make things so complicated when there’s no need to?

You can’t help but doubt yourself and doubt him. You want to know what’s in his head, yet you know it should be enough for you that he wants to keep seeing you.

All these doubts made you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re treating this in the same way you would’ve years ago.

Just focus on the now.

Aside from that…

You like him very much. He can talk about a bunch of things with you. He can be cute when he wants to be. You used to have a lot in common in terms of music. You like his style. And let’s not get started on his tattoos. ON TOP OF THAT, HIS ARMS. For some weird reason, I always forget he has dimples.

Ultimately, years pass and you always run back to him. You genuinely enjoy being in the same room as him.

No one has gotten close to how he makes you feel. Every time you see him again, everything feels the same. Your feelings towards him haven’t changed.

The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle but never break.

A month later

Ah, shit.

You were having a relatively good weekend. It was the 4th of July. You spent it with your family and now it was almost midnight but you were still texting with your best friend. She was at a party with Sam, Jess, and all the guys. You were experiencing a mild fomo, but you had a deal with your parents, so you had to pass that party this time.

Even Jungkook texted you earlier asking why you weren’t there. But that’s another story.

Your best friend was getting drunker with every text she sent, but she had put herself on the task of updating you with all of Yoongi’s whereabouts and doings.

I mean go ahead I guess. It makes me feel like it’s my fault for not showing enough interest again. This is making me uneasy. Because I like him but turns out he doesn’t like me enough? I WANT TO SCREAM.

I shouldn’t be angry because it’s my fault. I know so. I’m not trying enough, and maybe this was bound to happen. I can’t ask him to just talk to me. He needs to live his life too, he’s human, and he gets tired of waiting for someone who doesn’t seem “invested” in him. FUCK.

He ended up coming to your place around 1 a.m.

And this time, you actually talked. You were worried he’d drank too much, but he showed to be as sober as one can be.

Before he got there, you were extremely nervous, but once you sat with him on your couch, all your tension and fears calmed down. You valued that he was able to make you feel that way.

Your feelings went on a rollercoaster in a matter of a few hours, it was so fucking strange to read those words. To paint yourself a picture of what Yoongi was doing with you.

“Why weren’t you at the party?”

“I spent the whole weekend with my parents, so I couldn’t go.” “I wanted to, though.”

“It would’ve been cool if you had gone, everyone was asking about you.”

A smirk appeared on your face. “And what did you tell ’em?”

“That you didn’t want to see me,” He joked.

You started playing with him.

“That’s sliiightly true,”

After that, he laughed but got closer to you. He even got a lot more talkative, narrating to you everything he and your friends did earlier on. You were pretty entranced in him. It’s risky when you love to hear someone just talk. He took in the way you were gazing at him and figured there was no point in wasting more time. It was obvious Yoongi only went to your place to see if he was getting lucky tonight.

You realized his face was inching closer to yours. Your eyes scanning his own. Him doing the same, with the occasional glance at your lips. You weren’t gonna kiss him. Still, you let him get close enough so your lips could brush each other.

Then you smiled.

You weren’t gonna miss the chance to let him try to explain to you what the hell was going on, so you thought you’d go straight to the point.

“Can I ask you something?”

He returned your smile.

“Wait, let me guess”- “You want to know if I have a girlfriend”.

Motherfucker.

Your smile faltered slightly at him guessing the question, but he maintained eye contact with you. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you wanted to ask,” he replied. His tone is a mix of playfulness and seriousness. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

The way his mind immediately went there. We’ll worry about that later.

Yoongi’s words echoed in your ears, you couldn’t help but believe him. There was something about his voice, his gaze, that made you blindly trust his every word.

Yoongi’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering. “I want you to know that I’m being genuine right now. I don’t have a girlfriend, I’m not seeing anybody formally, romantically, emotionally, or whatever you imagined. I want to give us a chance to make things right for you.”

You clung to the hope that this time he was telling the truth.

A sense of relief washed over you as you leaned closer to Yoongi. Ignoring the cautionary whispers in the back of your mind, you let yourself be swept away by his intoxicating presence.

His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, and for a moment, it felt like all your doubts and worries faded away.

Days turned into weeks, and you reveled in the blissful illusion of having Yoongi in your life once again. Yoongi seemed attentive, caring, and utterly devoted to you. He showered you with affection, making you believe that you were his only one this time.

Over the next months, your interactions with Yoongi were limited to texts. There were no dates or visits to your house or his place, for that matter. It’s like he was growing bored. But that’s nothing new anymore.

You started to grow tired of his refusal to let you go, even if he didn’t like you the way you liked him. You knew it was time to move on and find someone who would honestly reciprocate your feelings.

And then, on a spontaneous note, one day, you stumbled upon someone through Instagram.

thv replied to your story.

It started with you two sending each other songs for a few days.

Then, when you got to actually talk to him. You realized he was funny, his music taste almost immaculate, he was extremely nice to you, and he cared about what you had to say. You basically had the same interests. And hands down, you enjoyed talking to him a lot.

Ever since you started talking to this new guy, called Taehyung, you felt like something had shifted in your life. And it’s only been 3 days since then.

This time, it turned out you were wrong. Wrong about everything.

I can’t regret anything, because I tried, I wholeheartedly tried. I don’t plan to try and understand him anymore.

Yoongi had been lying through his teeth the whole time. He did have a girlfriend, and he reveled in his power over you. He enjoyed playing with your emotions, relishing in his control over you.

You found out a few days ago, and you struggled to know what to do. You weren’t going to just ghost him. You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be passive-aggressive toward him, and it showed in your texts.

But you weren’t counting on that he was even more of a cynic than you. And you were getting angrier that he wouldn’t accept anything and refused to let the conversation die.

So yeah, it took 3 days.

It took you that long to get yourself way ahead of everything. About Taehyung specifically.

You don’t remember having met him before.

If only you knew that he remembers the first time he saw you in college and several parties after that.

He’d grown attracted to you every time he saw you. However, you never once seemed to acknowledge his presence.

And don’t get him wrong. He didn’t mind. You were just a platonic interest. Somehow he knew you weren’t exactly available even if he never saw you with a guy before.

He just took his chance a few days ago, not expecting anything. Just with the simple excuse of finally getting to know you.

He was a good listener, interested in your thoughts. With each message exchanged, your connection grew extremely fast.

This got you scared. You had barely talked to him and were already getting VERY INTERESTED.

On the fourth day, he invited you to the movies, but ended up going out to two bars and then dancing.

You shared even more stories, talked about your dreams, and even found yourselves discussing your insecurities in your love life.

Taehyung made you feel seen, heard, and valued – something you hadn’t felt in a long time. He was patient and understood your reservations.

On the cab, in the way back to your place, you rested your head on his shoulder, hand in hand, you truly felt so calm, it had been the nicest date ever.

Hell, you haven’t even had a proper date in years. So, no one can blame you when you finally let yourself be vulnerable for once.

Taehyung knew he’d like you, but never to this extent. He wasn’t scared when he realized he was falling in love with you. All he wanted was to see you every single day from now on. He took the initiative to plan a date next week, but you went out of town to visit your cousin.

So Monday it is. There was only one thing that you had to take care of. Before you let yourself move on to the next step in your love life.

Dealing with Yoongi was getting tiring, so it finally happened. The long overdue conversation occurred. Over texts, but it happened.

For once, you didn’t see the point in continuing. You and Yoongi have been through this road way too many times, and nothing has changed.

You decided to cut ties with Yoongi for good on that Monday. From now on, Taehyung could be the only one in your head.

As you were getting ready for your date with Taehyung, you couldn’t help but think about your conversation with Yoongi just a few hours ago. It was strange how life presented you with new opportunities right on the heels of letting go of the past. The decision to leave Yoongi was still fresh in your mind, but you hoped that this date with Taehyung would make you feel different, as bad as it could sound, but a distraction to that awful bit.

Taehyung took you to the movies, and from the moment the film began, your hands found each other’s, fingers intertwining. The dimly lit theater provided the perfect backdrop for this quiet display of affection. The movie itself was fun at times, but it was almost a blur of scenes and dialogue because your attention was elsewhere. You didn’t realize that Taehyung also spent that entire hour and a half not watching the movie, but watching you. He observed the way your eyes lit up at the funny parts, the sound of your laughter made his heart skip a beat. It was as if he had his own private screening of your reactions, and to him, it was the most captivating thing in the world.

The next stop on your adventure was an arcade, a place filled with flashing lights and the noise of all the games you can imagine. You couldn’t resist the air hockey table, and without hesitation, you both grabbed the paddles. As the puck glided across the smooth surface, it was evident that both of you were really good at it. Soon, a couple of small kids had gathered around, their eyes wide with fascination as they watched you play.

Taehyung, multitasking effortlessly, started chatting with them while maintaining his competitive spirit. A little girl, no older than seven, stood beside you, her eyes sparkling with innocence. She looked up at you with a hopeful smile and asked, “Are you going to beat your boyfriend?” Her question caught you off guard, and you burst into laughter at her adorable bluntness. Taehyung, engrossed in his conversation with the other kids, didn’t hear the question. All he could see was how your laughter sounded like the sweetest melody in the world.

Distracted by your laugh, Taehyung lost to you in the game. The little kids erupted in cheers, celebrating your victory as if you had just won a championship. They eagerly lined up to give you high-fives, momentarily forgetting that Taehyung even existed. That was until he, still keen on entertaining the kids, asked if they knew how to play. The result was an excited chorus of enthusiastic and loud ‘yes’s’.

It was an endearing sight as Taehyung listened attentively to the kids. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help but smile at how easily he connected with them.

“Okay, guys, what’s the next game we should play?” Taehyung asked, genuinely intrigued by their suggestions.

The kids seemed to have a dozen ideas at once, and it was all a jumble of arcade classics, from racing games to shooting hoops. One girl, with a mischievous glint in her eye, pointed at the dance machine in the corner.

“Can we try that dance game?” she asked, her excitement infectious.

Taehyung exchanged a playful glance with you, and you both agreed, despite the potential embarrassment that awaited you. The music blared from the machine, and you gave it your all, dancing like nobody was watching (except a group of kids, of course). Taehyung joined in nervously, even though his dancing skills were almost too good.

The kids burst into laughter at everyone’s dance moves, cheering you on with each step. It was one of those moments where embarrassment turned into pure joy, and you couldn’t have cared less about who was watching.

It was heartwarming to see him engage with them, making sure each child had a good time. After making sure the kids had enough tokens to keep playing, Taehyung gently took your hand, and together you wandered through the arcade. The place was a riot of flashing lights and game sounds, but it all faded into the background as you explored hand in hand.

Eventually, you came across the game involving knocking down rows of clown figures. You both paused, taking in the challenge. With the timer ticking down, Taehyung turned to you. His eyes sparkled with affection, and amidst the blinking lights and arcade tunes, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

You paused for a moment, your heart racing as you looked into Taehyung’s eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to kiss him - far from it. In fact, you felt a strong pull towards him, a connection that seemed to grow with every passing second. Even more so, after the side of him you saw today.

But there was something holding you back, a nagging doubt that whispered in the back of your mind. You had just met Taehyung, and even though the chemistry between you two was sweet, you wanted to take things slow. You didn’t want to rush into anything, not after what you’d been through with Yoongi.

So, with a soft smile, you gently shook your head and replied, “Not yet.” It was a response that carried a promise, a promise that there would be time for kisses and more in the future, once you were both ready to take that step. Taehyung nodded understandingly, his smile mirroring your own, and you continued your adventure to a bar, still hand in hand.

As you settled into a cozy corner of the bar, the atmosphere shifted, becoming more intimate. The soft hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and mellow jazz music in the background created the perfect backdrop for a meaningful conversation.

You started by talking about your time at the arcade, laughing about how the kids had cheered for you when you won the game. Taehyung joined in, sharing his amusement at their excitement. It was a light and joyful conversation that made you feel even closer to him.

Taehyung was genuinely interested in getting to know you better. He asked about your family, and you shared stories about your parents and siblings. In turn, he spoke fondly about his own family, reminiscing about childhood memories and you noticed how much he loved them.

Work became the next topic of discussion. You both talked about your careers, your aspirations, and the challenges you faced in life. Taehyung’s dedication and passion for his job shone through, and you found yourself admiring his determination.

As the night wore on, the conversation deepened. You talked about life, dreams, and the things that truly mattered to you. It was a conversation that left you feeling a sense of connection you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You realized that this was different from anything you had with Yoongi, something that was still scary to you.

As the night progressed and the conversation with Taehyung deepened, you couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between him and Yoongi. Taehyung’s genuine interest in getting to know you, his kindness, and his openness were like a breath of fresh air compared to the complexity and uncertainty of your history with Yoongi.

The realization that this connection with Taehyung was different, something new and potentially beautiful, both excited and scared you. It was scary because it meant stepping out of your comfort zone, venturing into unfamiliar territory, and leaving behind the emotional rollercoaster that had defined your relationship with Yoongi.

But that fear didn’t deter you. In fact, it fueled a sense of courage you hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe you were ready to embrace something real, something stable, and something built on honesty and trust. It was a daunting prospect, but for the first time in a while, it might be worth taking that leap into the unknown.

The night had stretched on longer than you had initially planned, but you didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you didn’t want it to end.

As Taehyung’s car pulled up to your place, reality seemed to rush back in. With the engine turned off and the night’s silence settling around you, you both remained seated in the car. It was one of those moments where time felt suspended, and neither of you seemed in a hurry to say goodbye.

You gazed into Taehyung’s eyes, his warm and sincere gaze locked onto yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You knew what you wanted, and in this moment, you felt a surge of courage you hadn’t experienced before.

Taehyung’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as he said, “I had a really great time tonight.”

You smiled, your heart racing. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice equally hushed.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Finally, you took a deep breath, your nervousness mingling with excitement. “Taehyung, can I ask you something?”

His eyes were curious. “Of course.”

Without overthinking it, you leaned in, closing the gap between you and Taehyung. In the dimly lit car, your lips finally met a gentle and electrifying connection that seemed to seal the promise of something new, something real.

As you pulled away, your foreheads touching, you whispered, “I’ve actually been wanting to do that all night.”

Taehyung chuckled, feeling a newfound hope. “Me too.”

Unable to resist kissing him way longer, you reached out again. The kiss started slow, a tantalizing exploration of each other’s lips. Your mouth was warm and inviting, and Taehyung couldn’t resist the urge to deepen the kiss.

Your lips moved together with a fiery passion, tongues dancing in a tango. There were no more words, just the intoxicating taste of each other. Your hands roamed, tracing all of his torso, igniting a fiery desire within both of you.

Taehyung bit your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine, and you responded with a soft moan. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more fervent. It was a hunger that had been building all night, and now it was impossible to contain.

The kiss was wild, a passionate exchange, a language of desire and longing. You explored every inch of each other’s mouths, savoring the taste of your newfound connection.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, lips swollen and hearts pounding. Taehyung’s eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that matched the fiery kiss you had just shared.

He whispered, his voice husky, “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you.”

You grinned, your own desire burning bright. “I’m glad we finally did.”

As you entered your home, the soft glow of your phone illuminated the room. You couldn’t help but smile as you saw a series of texts from Taehyung, sent with an urgency that mirrored the fiery passion of your kiss.

From that moment on, there wasn’t a single time of day when you weren’t texting each other. The connection between you two was electric, and it seemed like every message, every word, only deepened your bond. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to invite you again on a date, and he chose a taproom for the occasion.

Taehyung arrived the following Saturday at your doorstep around 7 p.m., his charming smile lighting up the evening. Dressed casually but looking effortlessly handsome, he greeted you warmly.

“Hey there,” he said, his voice a pleasant melody. “Ready for our night out?”

With a nod and an excited smile, you locked the door behind you and joined him. The short drive to the taproom was filled with easy conversation and soft laughs. When you arrived, you were greeted not just by the cozy atmosphere of the taproom but also by some of Taehyung’s friends who had already gathered there.

Taehyung couldn’t contain his excitement about introducing you to his friends. He made the rounds, enthusiastically presenting you to each one of them, his introductions filled with admiration. As the evening went on, his friends couldn’t help but tease you both when they knew you weren’t officially a couple.

However, that made them gush about Taehyung. They spoke of his kindness, his sense of humor, and his unwavering loyalty. They assured you that you’d found someone truly special, and it was clear they thought he’d done the same in finding you.

Throughout the night, amidst the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging. Taehyung’s friends were welcoming, and their approval only added to the unique feeling of the evening.

As the night continued, the connection between you and Taehyung deepened. Your hands naturally gravitated towards each other, fingers interlacing as if they had always belonged together. There was a palpable comfort in being so close, and the world around you seemed to fade into the background.

In the midst of this enchanting evening, a message from Sam popped up on your phone. She was suggesting a plan for tomorrow - a baseball game. Without a moment’s hesitation, you enthusiastically said yes.

But what made your heart race, even more, was the eagerness to include Taehyung in your plans. You turned to him, a radiant smile on your face, and said, “Hey, my friends just invited me to a baseball game tomorrow. Do you want to join us? It’d be amazing if you’d come with me.”

His eyes lit up with delight at the invitation, and he nodded, “yeah, I’d love to be there with you.”

It felt like a natural step, merging your separate worlds and bringing Taehyung closer to your heart.

In your world, your friends were your anchors, your family, and the people who knew you best. If someone couldn’t fit into that crucial part of your life, it was often a telling sign that the relationship might not make it.

As you looked forward to the baseball game the next day, there was a mixture of excitement and nervousness. You believed in Taehyung and the genuine connection you shared, but there was always that sliver of doubt. Would he mesh well with your friends? Would they see what you saw in him?

But deep down, you had a feeling that this was a significant step. If Taehyung could seamlessly become a part of your world, it would be a powerful confirmation of your relationship.

Thoughts of tomorrow’s baseball game, and the potential changes it might bring, had temporarily vanished. All you craved at that moment were the hugs, kisses, and the warmth of holding Taehyung’s hand.

The atmosphere seemed to hum with your love surge, an electric charge that coursed through you, making every moment feel like a heart-pounding adventure. As you bid farewell to Taehyung’s friends, you couldn’t wait to be alone with him, to dance again at the same bar where your love story began.

Tonight, something was different. Your excitement was on an all-time high. The tension that had built up between you over the last dates, the unspoken desires and emotions, were now rising to the surface. The connection between you two was undeniable, and your touches were igniting sparks that seemed to intensify with each passing second.

In the dimly lit bar, the pulsating beat of the music coursed through your veins, syncing with your every move. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, and as you moved to the rhythm, your dance became a sensual invitation. Your body swayed and undulated in harmony with the music, your hips swiveling provocatively to the seductive melodies.

Taehyung watched you with desire burning in his eyes, unable to resist the magnetic pull you had on him. Your dance was a mesmerizing display of confidence and allure. Your hands moved sensually across your own body, tracing the curves and contours that begged for his touch.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Taehyung stepped closer, his hands finding their way to your hips. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, pulling you closer to him as he succumbed to the same fiery rhythm.

Your bodies moved together, pressed intimately against each other. The heat between you grew with every tantalizing sway, and the world around you faded into obscurity. In that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in the lights of desire and passion, each movement drawing you closer to an inevitable collision of lips and bodies.

As the night at the bar wore on, the two of you shared more than just dances. After one particularly intense moment, you found yourself with your back pressed against Taehyung’s chest, the thumping bass of the music reverberating through both of you. His breath was warm against your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine. In that space, with his arms wrapped around your waist, it felt as if the world had disappeared, leaving only the sensation of his closeness and the rhythmic beating of your hearts in unison.

Between dances, you took breaks to calm yourselves with a beer or whatever drink you saw first at the bar. Each moment spent apart only seemed to fuel the intensity of your attraction. With every sip of your drink, you couldn’t help but glance back at Taehyung, a magnetic pull drawing you together once more. The atmosphere was heady with desire, and your chemistry was through the roof. Each dance, each stolen moment, was a step closer to something neither of you could resist any longer.

After those couple of hours of dancing that left you slightly breathless, you decided to seek refuge in one of the dimly lit booths at the corner of the bar. It provided a temporary sanctuary from the dance floor, allowing you to catch your breath and collect your thoughts amidst the lust that was echoing in your ears. The low hum of laughter and conversation from people around you provided a calming backdrop as you settled in, your heart still racing from the intimate moment with Taehyung, who had managed to stir emotions you hadn’t felt in quite some time.

He slid into the seat opposite you, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers through your body. In the closeness that the booth offered, you could feel something deeper between you. It was as though the music, which had once enveloped you in its intoxicating embrace, was reduced to a mere murmur in the back.

With a playful grin, Taehyung finally broke the silence that had settled between you. “You know,” he began, his voice a low, seductive murmur, “I think we might just be causing a lot of jealous looks in here.”

You chuckled, the sound husky and filled with desire. “I noticed.”

His fingers traced patterns on the table, drawing invisible lines as he continued, “It’s not just about dancing, though. I’ve been imagining being with you like this since the first time I laid eyes on you, and it’s been killing me all night.”

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your ears as you whispered, “Since the first time you saw me?” Not trusting yourself enough to say what you were really thinking, so you mirrored his words.

Taehyung’s hand reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. “I can’t keep my composure anymore,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been thinking about more than this all week.”

He paused, his gaze locked onto yours with a smoldering intensity. “You know,” he added with a sultry smile, “seeing you getting along so well with my best friends earlier, it just… made me so hard.”

The anticipation hung in the air like a charged current, a palpable magnetism drawing you closer together. It was a sensation you couldn’t ignore, a magnetic pull that seemed destined to ignite into something more profound.

You bit your lip, your pupils were blown, unable to contain the emotions surging within you. “Taehyung,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “if you keep this up, I think I might fall in love with you.”

His eyes sparkled with a mix of desire and affection as he leaned in closer. “Is that so?” he murmured, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

Moments later, Taehyung led you to his apartment.

“I’m glad that we can finally be together like this.” He said with a sincere smile, his hand moving lower to cup your ass. He couldn’t resist anymore; he had to have you right then and there.

He slid his hand under your skirt, feeling the smoothness of your skin against his fingertips. Traced the outline of your panties through the fabric of your bottom. Taehyung felt a wave of arousal wash over him as he painted himself a picture of what lay beneath. Slowly, he slid his hands up your legs until he reached the hem of your panties. With a gentle tug, he pulled them down, revealing your wetness to him.

The sudden exposure caused you to blush slightly, but it only fueled his desire further. You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of what came next “*Aren’t you going to see how wet I got because you?”

He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, then gently placed his hand on your inner thigh. As he did so, he whispered in your ear. “Do you really want me to do this?”

“I want this, trust me.”

He slid his hand up higher, feeling the warmth and dampness of your cunt. He could hear your soft gasps and moans as he touched your pussy. He continued to stroke you gently, feeling your muscles tighten around his fingers.

He heard your moans and started to become even more aroused. He could feel his own hard on growing in his pants, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before you both got carried away. He slowly pulled back from you and looked into your eyes, his face flushed red with desire. You could tell that he was just as affected as you were.

You nodded, your eyes locked with his as desire coursed through your veins. You breathed, “I want you to touch me. I need your hands in me.”

A low growl rumbled in Taehyung’s throat as he gave you a hungry look, his fingers inching closer to your dripping core. “Fuck,” he muttered, unable to contain his own need. “I’ve been dreaming about this for days. About burying myself deep inside you.”

The raw desire in his words sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, desperate for his touch.

His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasingly avoiding direct contact with where you needed him most. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you fought to maintain a hint of control.

“Please, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “don’t make me wait.”

A wolfish grin tugged at the corners of Taehyung’s lips as he finally gave in to both of your desires. His fingers dipped into your wet heat, eliciting a moan from deep within your throat.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he groaned, his voice rough with lust. “Did I make you this way? Did I make that pretty little pussy of yours ache for me?”

All coherent thought flew out the window as Taehyung pumped his fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots that made pleasure surge through every nerve ending in your body. You could only manage to nod and let out a desperate moan in response.

He wrapped his other hand around your neck, pulling you closer to him. He could feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers, and he knew that you were enjoying this a lot.

He started to apply pressure to your neck, feeling your body respond to his touch. You let out a small gasp of air, and as he continued to choke you, he leaned in closer to your ear and whispered. “Do you like this, baby? Is this what you wanted?”

His thumb found its way to your clit, circling the swollen bud and sending jolts of electricity straight to where you needed it most. The pleasure was overwhelming, bordering on blissful torture, as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me, baby,” Taehyung whispered, his hot breath fanning across your ear. “I want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

His words were all it took to push you over the edge. The coil of pleasure that had been building inside of you snapped, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through your body. You clung to him as you rode out your orgasm, his touch the only anchor keeping you grounded in a sea of sensations.

As the last tremors of pleasure receded, Taehyung pulled his hand away and brought it up to his lips, sucking your taste off his fingers with a look of pure satisfaction on his face.

After a few hours spent in tangled in touches, the clock ticked its way to 4 a.m., signaling the impending end of the night’s bliss. Despite the energy that was bubbling up between you, the evening hadn’t ventured beyond the boundaries of those lewd touches, leaving something else lingering in the air. As the minutes kept passing, a sense of reality nudged its way back into the forefront of your mind.

“You’re even sweeter than I imagined,” Taehyung’s voice, thick with desire, caressed the dimly lit room, echoing the sentiments of the night.

With a hazed smile playing on your lips, you gently disentangled yourself from Taehyung’s embrace, the need for rest tugging at your consciousness. “I have to go home, Taehyung,” you murmured softly, your words tinged with regret at the thought of parting, “I should get some actual sleep if we want to spend the whole day together again.”

Your fingers traced soothing circles along his shoulders, a silent reassurance of your affection. “You are coming with me tomorrow, right?” you queried, hope flickering in your eyes as you awaited his response.

In the hazy glow of his room, Taehyung’s gaze met yours, a promise dancing in his eyes. “Absolutely,” he affirmed, his voice laced with determination, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

With a final exchange of tender kisses and lingering glances, you reluctantly bid farewell to Taehyung’s warm embrace, bracing yourself for your way home.

Despite the lingering effects of last night’s alcohol roaming your body, a surge of adrenaline pulsed through your veins as you rolled out of bed, battling against the persistent fog of a very hungover you. With each groggy step towards the bathroom, the anticipation of the day ahead infused your weary limbs with energy, overriding the dull ache in your head.

As you splashed cool water on your face, the mirror reflected a mix of exhaustion and excitement in your eyes. Today was the day you’d introduce Taehyung to your best friends, a prospect that filled you with nerves. The thought of seeing their reactions, of sharing this part of your life with them, ignited a spark within you.

After downing a much-needed glass of water and popping a couple of painkillers to combat the lingering headache, you set about getting ready for the day. Despite the persistent throb at your temples, you couldn’t help but hum a tune under your breath, the thrill of today’s plan chasing away the last traces of drowsiness.

With each minute, the excitement grew, the clock ticking in slow motion as you counted down the moments until Taehyung went to pick you up. Finally, the sound of the doorbell shattered the quiet of the morning, heralding the arrival of your lover boy.

With a quick glance in the mirror to ensure you looked somewhat presentable despite feeling like shit, you hurried to answer the door, a smile of genuine delight spreading across your face at the sight of Taehyung standing on your doorstep, two large cups of coffee in hand and a grin that mirrored your own excitement.

“There we have my pretty and hungover girl,” he greeted you warmly, his eyes alight with anticipation, “are we all set for the big day?”

With a nod and a grin, you took the cup he handed you, the aroma wafting up to greet your senses. “Definitely”.

As you and Taehyung arrived at the stadium, the vibrant atmosphere of the bustling crowd greeted you with a wave of excitement. Sam, Gemma, and Jin were already waiting for you near the entrance, their infectious laughter echoing in the air as they exchanged playful banter.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up!” Sam exclaimed, her grin widening as she caught sight of you and Taehyung approaching. “And who’s this handsome stranger you’ve brought along?”

lmk if you're up for reading the second part of this mess 🤭 bonus. just a little jungkookie for fun

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daydreaming-jessi · 11 months ago

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“There’ve been many souls that have come and gone from the flock, some are just more memorable than others.”

Decided to doodle some cultists I’ve come up for in fics, had in my actual game, or a cool idea i came up with on the spot. Oh and Sozo and Webber are here too :D This is by no means the entirety of the cult, and there may be future followers that stand out too, but for now enjoy these guys. Feel free to ask about them I guess lmao

I will be putting down my written notes under a cut since they’re so small and scribbly ^^;

Brother Tyr, head priest, he/him: The Lamb's 3rd closest. Very stressed despite doing his job for 200 years. Tries and fails to be a peacekeeper in the cult. Tyr and Nari argue a lot.

Brother Narinder, head mortician, he/him: Don't piss him off. The Lamb's spouse. Best source of info on the crowns and outside world. Can do any job around the temple and will. When the Lamb isn't around.

Sister Merbre, temple organizer, she/her: Helob loves her. The main reason the temple runs when Lamb is gone. Has a surprising realist view. Everyone loves her. Romantic at heart.

Yeon, general worker, she/her: Has to let loose in demon form or else. Together with Julno. Friends with Narinder. Seeking absolution from her past crimes. 'Encouraged' Narinder to court Lamb.

Tyna, assistant mortician, they/them: Cult's head goth. Runs the slam poetry night. Also does piercings and tats.

Nanaon, retired missionary, she/her: One of the Lamb's most faithful. Insists she's not that old and can still work. One of the few mortals to earn the respect of both Deaths.

Firyn, farmer, he/him: A worker. Great with people and plants. Born after the fall of the Old Faith. Leshy's companion. Doesn't know the horrors yet. People tend to underestimate him.

Pura, general worker, she/they: Likes Firyn. Likes to manipulate things to her benefit. Doesn't like Leshy. Doesn't realize what being an ex-bishop means. Genuinely respects the Lamb.

Almer, refinery worker, he/him: Shamura's friend. Easy going. Wants a big family. A good confidant. Gives great hugs.

Grayden, silk sorter, they/them: Shamura's friend. Quiet but a beautiful singer. A shy pushover, but will snap.

Julno, farmer, he/him: Came with the 'coward' trait. Still scared of the Lamb, and Yeon's 'bestie' Narinder. Together with Yeon. Doesn't know her murderous urges.

Poppy, she/her: Best friends with Webber, youngest of the cult. Brave and tenacious Webber, he/them: Best friends with Poppy, youngest of the cult. Gentle and curious.

Dr. Sozonius, researcher, he/him: Amnesiac. Lamb is helping him find home. Extremely well educated about biology. Does not like the spider stalking him, or the mushroom.

Keeper, record keeper, she/him: Face is always obscured. Hates the Dark. Doesn't talk about his past. Has a strange locket that ticks. Always smells of salt.

Joobre, refinery worker/tailor, he/them: Loves working with silk. Has tea with Berith. Likes gold jewelry.

Thorty, bartender, he/him: Fights with Nari a lot. Short temper. Best with the drunks.

Bregrear, smith, he/him: Quiet. Knows his way around weapons. Old hat at this point. Hopes to retire in peace.

Harbre, smith apprentice/missionary, any pronouns: Hot tempered. Looks up to Bregrear. Married to Bathin, chases off suitors neither of them like. Longs to master their craft. Protective.

Anar, miner/lumberjack, he/him: Distrusting. Hard worker. Doesn't exactly trust the Lamb, but willing to give the cult a shot. Starts fights.

Fun-Gui, researcher assistant, they/them: Weirdly obsessed with Sozo. Self proclaims as his assistant. Other mushroomos don't like them. Always goopy and dripping.

Hajal, traitor, she/her: Left the cult. Status unknown.

#jessi doodles #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #the one who waits #cotl follower #cotl sozo #dr sozonius #cotl webber #ds webber #gotta say my personal fav is fun-gui i just love their design so much #this new love has really helped me figure out drawing animals thank god

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rynnaissance · 11 months ago

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ok so for future reference, if i ever do continue working on my fic, how do we think bell’s hells would be at driving cars in a modern au? i’ve got ideas, but i want to hear other people’s input.

here’s what i’ve got:

chetney: DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH CHETNEY WHATEVER YOU DO. that senior citizen is batshit insane and he WILL road rage. if someone cuts him off then wherever he was going is forgotten because he has to tailgate that person now while yelling at them to pull over so they can “talk.” i can’t decide if he would have a really nice car or a really shitty one because honestly both fit. maybe a fancy truck for hauling wood?

orym: he’s your safest bet out of the hells if you want to get somewhere on time without fearing for your life. bro is a law abiding citizen of the road. he never loses his cool (unlike chet) and his car is always clean and smells super nice. he mostly listens to meditation style music, but he’ll let the other person have the aux because he’s genuinely curious to hear what they listen to. shout out to orym.

laudna: okay back to the insanity. ALSO DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH LAUDNA! girlie pop should not be on the road. she’s blasting the weirdest fucking genres of metal imaginable, she can hear nothing else. the music only somewhat drowns out the horrible keening noises her car makes, as if it’s begging to die. that thing hasn’t been to the shop in decades and omits the occasional plume of black smoke that smell like burnt hair and buttered popcorn for some reason? i saw someone else talk about how she’s a crazy driver with everyone except imogen who she drives very well for and never blasts music, and i like that idea a lot.

imogen: it was her dad’s truck before her’s, a farm vehicle meant for rural roads with four wheel drive. it’s pretty beat up, but it’s reliable. imogen hates driving though, as it can be super overwhelming in the city, and prefers to go with laudna. outside of the city, on rural roads where you won’t see another car for miles, she finds it almost as relaxing as horseback riding. she likes to cruise around with her widows down, shamelessly listening to country music. yeehaw.

ashton: should you get in a car with ashton? depends on the day, as they are kind of a wild card. one day, it might be a chill drive with you two causally exchanging stories, like sober “what the fuck is up with that?” other times you better hold onto your seat because you are getting to your location regardless of how traffic is flowing. ashton is the person who cuts chetney off. it may be on purpose, no one knows for certain, but he always seems to manage to find the old man and make his day a little more difficult. if they see someone they know, they’ll lay on horn and yell, “hey asshole!” with a wave and a grin. the car itself is covered in stickers and sharpie graffiti, interior and exterior. you’ll always know it’s him.

fearne: does she have a license? she would say yes. the truth is no. fearne was never taught how to drive, she just kinda figured it out as she went along. because of ashton, she used to think honking is a friendly thing, but had to be informed by fcg that those people are not just saying hi, but are actually mad at her. she didn’t like that very much. she doesn’t seem to be aware that there are any dangers to driving. she’s almost always getting into crashes, which she responds to with a giggle and a “whoops(:” it’s a marvel she hasn’t been arrested yet. there’s also an angry possum that’s sometimes found in the truck of her car, so it’s best not to open it.

fcg: much like orym, fcg is a very safe person to drive with. although maybe a little annoying, as he’ll let everyone go before him at a four way stop regardless of if it’s actually their turn. sometimes though, when they’re under a lot of stress, they resemble chetney more. they won’t tolerate any bullshit from other drivers and yell at pedestrians to get out of the way. he’s been getting better about this though, but still.

#critical role #cr campaign three #bell’s hells #bell’s hells modern au #chetney pock o'pea #orym of the air ashari #cr laudna #imogen temult #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #cr fcg #again i would love to hear other people’s ideas too

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flowerwiththemachinegun · 6 months ago

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Have we learned anything new from Tseng's background? Well, since I haven’t I’ve come up with this. I surely am not bilingual or anything and I couldn’t figure out just how to make my own little language (yet, I have to for another fic) so all of this is just yanno, english. Right before FF7 events, cause I don’t like little ponytail Tseng. GN as usual unless folks start getting overly freaky (not in this fic)

Title: Dead Languages

Description: about 2.5k words. After committing the silliest of crimes you catch the Turks' attention. Taking little to no time to catch you and bring you in for interrogation. The only problem is they have absolutely zero clue what you’re saying, until Tseng finally arrives. Staring at Tseng with absolute delight, relief washes over you. Part 2 will contain more detail about the conversation between the reader and Tseng.

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To say Reno was pissed was an understatement, pacing back and forth behind Rude’s seated position in front of you. Elbows on the table, Rude’s head buried in his hands out of stress, sighing heavily once more. They’ve tried for hours to get you to talk. There’s just absolutely no way you’ve made it all the way to Midgar with no way of communicating with anyone. From the few words they could make out, they knew you were from Wutai. That and your appearance made that painfully obvious.

They’ve tried threatening you quite a few times, the eccentric duo getting fed up with your “games”, as they call it. Genuinely, you had no idea what they were saying, but boy, were they angry. The red head’s face was just as red as his hair and the bald guy. Well, he seemed more upset at the other suited man for screaming so much. They were certainly no less upset after a blonde man dressed in all white came into the room. Sitting across from you for not even ten minutes staring back at the two men in black saying something in a dismissive tone, then leaving. You couldn’t help but think everything about him was a bit strange. The blonde’s get up combined with the strangely obedient creature he had in tow.

Eventually, you were left alone, staring at the wall for what you felt like was an endless amount of time. After an additional hour went by, numerous people came in and spoke to you, well tried. Each of them speaking a different language you simply couldn’t understand. Growing more and more frustrated yourself, you couldn’t help but give up any attempts at communicating with anyone. Your anxiety gnawing at your mind as you realize you might never leave this room at the rate things were going, surrounded by all of these strange faces. Every person is either talking to you like you were a five year old or becoming frustrated with your lack of communication. At some point, it was no wonder you completely shut down.

Alone. Again. In this tiny interrogation wall, rubbing your eyes before laying your head in your arms. To think that the trek from Wutai to Midgar was exhausting, “that was nothing in comparison to this shit,” You thought to yourself, deciding to do your best to enjoy the next couple of hours as you were waiting around for your next round of interpreters. You couldn’t quite understand why they were so intent on talking to you rather than locking you away. It was an all-around ridiculous situation to be quite frank, becoming obsessed with myths of beasts living inside of precious red orbs. You wanted nothing more than to obtain that power for yourself in an attempt to take over other nearby villages to save your own.

Coming from a small village where a majority of your people were dying off, the population was not able to multiply faster than what they were expiring. Sure, your goal may have been a form of tyranny, but hell, you were the only one even trying to push for the future. The objective was simple enough: bring back as many of these strange creatures, harness their power, and force the other villages to follow your traditions. It mattered not who you had to slaughter to make your dream happen. It seemed to be going surprisingly smooth, the Shinra building being surprisingly easy to break into. You were able to make it to the materia room and snag as many of the summon materia as you could after practically disfiguring one of the infantrymen and snagging his uniform to blend in. Only to be caught by Reno and Rude as you were making your way back down the ungodly amount of stairs that made up the side entrance.

Pulling yourself from your thoughts as the door was all but being kicked open by Rufus, evident that he, too, was fed up with trying to find a way to speak to you. Raising your head up to acknowledge those who have walked in. By this point, Rufus was ready to just lock you up or, worse, pass you off to Hojo. Of course, he had his other two suits in tow, Reno and Rude, both of them just staring at you with an almost pitiful expression. Thinking to yourself, “That was concerning.” They haven’t said much to you since coming into the room, talking amongst themselves instead. Probably pondering on what they were going to do with you. Watching the white clad man stand up, pulling a device out of his pocket and holding it to his face as he walks out of the room. He almost seemed relieved by whatever that interaction was. Leaning back in your chair, you simply stare at the two Turks, curious as to what would happen next but making no attempts to speak.

A few moments pass by before Rufus enters again, this time with another man in black. Dark hair ran down his back, neatly pinned up so that not even a stray hair would fall into his face. Not even a wrinkle in sight. What really caught your attention, though, was his eyes. Beautiful honey like pools meeting your gaze, immediately perking up at the sight of his tilak. An action that did not go unnoticed by the others, as over the course of the day, you would hardly acknowledge them, maybe sparing a disapproving glance. You quickly utter a few words, which causes Tseng to do a double take. Very rarely was the Turk caught off guard, but he couldn't deny that hearing someone speak his language was surprising in itself.

Your gaze never breaks from Tseng as you hear Rufus address him, “Oh? Is this a lost friend of yours?” Tseng pulls the seat out from in front of you and gets comfortable, for once his movements showed just how perturbed he was by the situation. Trying to keep his voice steady as he responds to Rufus, “Not quite, but I could tell you they came from the same place as myself. Our language never expanded outside of several villages. A place called Mahitotsu, no outsiders were allowed in either, never allowing themselves to mingle with modern-day people. Most of them wouldn’t be able to read nor write in another language due to the permanent barrier they’ve put between themselves and the rest of the world. The villagers themselves are reluctant to even deal with their neighbors.”

With a nod of Rufus’ head, he gestures towards you as he speaks, “Well, figure out why they're here stealing from me.” Something Tseng too was very curious about, most information regarding Shinra or materia for that matter is practically nonexistent. Coupled with the fact that your small off grid village also knows nothing of the world outside of it. For you to trek from the depths of Wutai to get here must have called for a damned good reason. Opting to give you a more traditional welcome in hopes of making you more willing to tell him any information you may have, Tseng starts by taking his gloves off, extending his hand to you. Placing your hand in his, Tseng brings the other to rest soothingly on top of your own. Bringing a few questionable looks from everyone in the room, they’ve never seen this tactic before, and Reno was going to make it known. Regarding Tseng in a teasing voice, “I thought you were here to make them talk, not flirt.”

“It’s simply a greeting.” Tseng retorts back, red daring to tint his cheeks. It’s been so long since he’s done this. Paired with the way you're staring at him almost makes him want to melt. Getting rid of those thoughts quickly, Tseng begins addressing you. Stating that he obviously knew where you came from, asking what brought you out here. How did you get out here? Not for a minute did he let your hand go as the interrogation went on for hours, not that you could complain. At some point, Rude couldn’t help but mention that it was an awfully long greeting as he stared at your connected hands. Sure, he could’ve let your hand go quite some time ago. A part of him just can’t help but to enjoy this.

Once Tseng received all of the information he could get out of you, looking to Rufus to summarize what was said. Giving Rufus your name as well as place of origin, “They’re looking to save our village, albeit it’s not the smartest plan, though for that particular region of the world it would work considering the lack of knowledge and resources. The goal seems to be using summons as a way to entrap all of the other surrounding off-grid villages, forcing them to abide by our customs, down to forcing them to forget their own language and convert to our own. The reason is that the village is roughly estimated to die off in the next century. They seem to think ruling by fear would be the best way of going about completing their goal.”

Rufus taps his fingers along the table, resting his head in his hand as he looks from your conjoined hands back to meet Tseng’s eyes. “Right idea, though this should be used for something much bigger than a bunch of forgotten tribes. I’m impressed they’ve made it thus far.” Tseng can’t help but nod in agreement. It is quite the feat to have survived the journey here. Especially knowing there isn’t much known about the rest of the world where you reside. Once again, pulling Tseng out of his thoughts, Rufus throws an idea out, “If they can prove to be just as loyal and useful as yourself, I say we keep them. Obviously, you would be doing all of the training. Not to mention, they need to figure out how to communicate with the rest of society. Dare I say, I have a good feeling about this. Or you could let them know they can rot in one of Hojo’s pods. The choice is theirs.”

Tseng gives your hand a gentle squeeze before explaining what your ultimatum consisted of. With a shake of your head, you tell him that if you can’t accomplish your goal that there isn't a point of going forward in life. Translating your words back to Rufus draws a deep scowl from him, considering your choice should have been clear. Tseng gives a light shrug, letting out a deep breath. He certainly didn’t want that to be your fate, but after trying to convince you to change your mind and join them, it was clear you weren’t going to budge. Giving Rufus an almost sad expression, doing his best to cover up how he felt about the series of events. “All they want is for our people to continue to thrive-”

Cutting Tseng off as Rufus can’t help but finally notice a specific word that Tseng keeps repeating, “Our?” A smirk spreads across the vice president's face, “You’re people are right here, Tseng. Though, I imagine you have some attachments left to your hometown. Am I wrong?” At that, Tseng breaks any eye contact, staring down at your hands as you bring your other hand to rest atop of his as you sense his tension. Still refusing to look at anyone as he speaks, “It would be a shame for that to be their fate in my eyes, yes. Though I’m sure I've been long forgotten about, there are still people one could say I care for.”

“Then I have another proposition, this time something that could benefit you both and myself?” Rufus finishes with a questioning tone before carrying on, leaning back in his chair. “We can make merging these villages a reality. It would be easier done if we utilize our troops. Though I have no intentions of trying to spread a dying language, I by no means plan on getting rid of it either. We can leave them isolated as they have been after bringing them together, of course leaving a group of soldiers to keep watch, make sure everything goes according to plan. Anyone stationed there is going to learn how to speak…whatever it is, you all call it. Though this will result in the land becoming Shinra property, is that something you can deal with? We can work out the finer details later, but (Y/N) will work for us, and they will have to live here.”

“It isn’t me that needs to consider this,” Tseng states before finally meeting your gaze once more. It’s debatable if taking over land in Wutai would start another war, but it doesn’t seem like Rufus plans on making a ruckus as Shinra takes over the land. At least not yet. Translating what Rufus had to offer, and this time, it manages to catch your attention. A frown crosses your features as he details the portion about residing in Midgar and having to learn a new language, but to his surprise, you don't mind Shinra’s occupation so much. More than likely, due to your severe ignorance in regards to what Shinra is capable of. Telling Tseng that as long as you can get your way, it was an arrangement you could live with.

This starts the journey for the next year, being forced to live with Tseng until you can navigate the world by yourself as well as becoming a trustworthy individual. The plans to take over (insert town name here) would also not come to fruition until your training was thoroughly complete. You have to prove yourself in order to pave the way for your goals, even if you fail to realize you're being taken advantage of. To everyone's surprise, Tseng wasn't too upset about the arrangement. Sure, living with a total stranger wasn't on his ‘to do’ list per se, but you had him completely and utterly captivated. Tseng's subconscious had every intention of getting closer and closer to you. Making sure to spend more time than necessary teaching you what different items were as well as teaching you how to communicate with everyone else. Though he loved talking to you the most in your native tongue, there was something so magical about how your voice rang out to him as you spoke. Maybe this living situation would prove to be far more beneficial than he thought, and it had nothing to do with your training.

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I hate to cut it off abruptly but every other idea is going to be put into part 2. This seemed to be the most decent stopping point for me. Couldn’t get this out of my mind, as I tried writing other fics this idea just kept begging me to use it, so I shall.

Tseng lowkey has attachment issues and falls in love easily, can't tell me otherwise and it's a hill I'll die on. He just tries to keep his mask on at all times, but I can see poor babies' tears right through that shit.

#tseng of the turks #tseng ff7 #tseng #tseng x reader #ff7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #rude ff7 #reno ff7 #turks

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