#well even if i finish it today (doubtful) i will still post it like. one chapter a day. (they're short chapters)

[maulfucker]

It may be a day or it may be a month before I start posting the finished thing but for now I really really want to share this bit

[russellsppttemplates]

Carrying it all on your shoulders (Daniel Ricciardo)

Juggling two kids without Daniel proved to be harder than you thought

Note: english is not my first language. I don't get requests for Daniel that often, and dad!Daniel is very fun and cute to write!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's self-doubt and low self esteem associated with motherhood and parenting, exhaustion, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Y/N, are you sure you want to do it? I'll do it no problem", your colleague assured you, "even one of the interns can do it, Y/N! Seriously, go home earlier!", she offered.

"I can do it", you added, crossing over the task you had completed on your post it note and writing two more down, "Sophia just started her ballet class and Alice's nursery had a pantomime today so they're keeping the kids for a little longer", you winked at her, gathering the documents and getting ready to complete the task.

Lately, this was your routine. Drop the girls at school and nursery, head up to work, pick the girls up and drive home before homework, playtime, dinner time and then the bedtime routine. When Daniel was still home, it was usually him doing the school and nursery runs so it wasn't like it added a lot to your routine, but it requires more juggling than you initially thought.

By the time you finished the tasks, you were the only one left, shutting down your laptop and closing all of the doors once you had your belongings all packed into your bag, finally calling it a day and heading to your car.

Picking a very sleepy Alice from nursery and then a pouty Sophia from her ballet class, you tried your best to not bother the youngest one, "how was your class today, princess?", you wondered once you stopped at a red light, turning around slightly so you could look at your daughter's face.

"It was okay", she stated, remaining unusually quiet all the way back home as she looked outside the window.

"I'm going to put Alice down for a little nap and then I'll go and help you with your homework, okay?", you said to Sophia as she set her backpack down near her desk, "I don't have any today", she said, closing the door behind her as you walked to Alice's room, laying her down on the mattress and kissing the top of her head, feeling it warmer than usual.

"Oh, babygirl", you cooed, grabbing the thermometer from the medicine cubby and putting it on her ear, silently hoping it was just you.

A minute later, the result showed she was beggining to develop a fever. Sighing, you stored the thermometer in its box and got the medicine from your bathroom, grabbing the syringe to put it in her mouth when you managed to waker her up without a big fuss.

"I know you don't want this, baby", you cooed as Alice stirred in her sleep, big brown eyes looking up at you with tears welling up on them, "take this for mummy, okay?", you pleaded, "you'll feel better, my love", you said, holding her on your arms so she could fall asleep again.

The tiredness came over you pretty quickly, making you sit on the rocking chair, closing your eyes for a little bit and taking a deep breath. Because she was your second child, you didn't feel like the first time Sophia got sick. While in the first time, you ran around like a headless chicken, ready to bring her to the emergency room and messaging her pediatrician until both your parents' and Daniel's parents assured you and your husband you were doing just fine. So far, she didn't seem to bothered by it, just sleep, so you allowed yourself the moment to rest with her, rubbing her back and showering her with kisses and a good cuddle.

"Mummy?", Sophia asked, knocking on the door of her sister's room to announce she was coming in, "what are we having for dinner?", she asked, taking in the sight of you and her sister.

"Oh", you noted, not having given it much thought until that moment, "we can have spaghetti bolognese, I'll just have to boil some pasta - I think we still have some of those heart shapes pastas daddy brought home the other day -, or we could have some chicken nuggets and rice if you prefer that", you offered, thinking of the meal plan meals you had in the fridge as you didn't feel like cooking everything from scratch tonight.

"The spaghetti bolognese is fine", she whispered, coming closer to you and kissing her sister's hand, "is Alice sick?", she questioned.

"She has a bit of a fever, it's probably something she picked up from in nursery, you used to get these every now and again, too", you explained, brushing the curls away from her eyes, "she'll be fine though. Are you feeling okay, beautiful girl?", you checked with her, wanting to be prepared in case both kids came down with this bug.

"I feel fine", she assured you, kissing your cheek before she saw you get up and grabbing the sling, wrapping her sister against you, "do you want to help me with the pasta then?", you smiled, stretching your hand so she could grab it and you both could head to the kitchen.

"I'll set the plates", Sophias offered, making you kiss the top of her head as a thank you and going back to stirring the pasta while the sauce warmed up in another pot.

You ate the food in a quieter environment that usual, and while the reasonable voice in your head told you that it was due to the fact that everyone was a little tired, the snarky and mean one made you feel guilty.

As you washed up the pots and plates from dinner while Sophia spent some time watching cartoons on TV, your mind took you to the mom guilt feelings, rewinding back to all of the times in the last two weeks where you didn't spend time with either of them separately, all of the times where you had to rush to get out of the house all in one piece and all of the things you weren't doing well.

"Soph", you called, "I'm going upstairs to put Alice down, is there anything I can do for you before I go?", you wondered.

"Can I have your phone so I speak to daddy, please?", she asked, "he hasn't called today", she reasoned, "take it from my pocket, bub", you said, tuning your back to her slightly so she could retrieve the device from the denim material, "call me if you need anything, okay?", you checked with her, "okay, mummy! Night night, Alice, I love you", she waved at her sister who blew her a sloppy kiss.

Sitting down on the sofa, Sophia pressed Daniel's contact, smiling at the love heart on the contact despite having seen it many times before, "hey!", Daniel said, a little surprised to see the little girl's face instead of yours.

"Hi daddy!", she smiled, "mummy is putting Alice to sleep so I thought I'd talk to you for a bit", she said, "I have something to tell you".

"Oh, okay, tell me then", Daniel concerned, sensing that what your daughter wanted to tell him was something troubling her.

"I'm confused", she began, "do you remember that book you and mummy read to me and Alice? The one with the monster who is now doctor?", she tried as Daniel nodded.

Anna Llenas was one of your favourite authors for kids' stories and you always read them to your family. The way they spoke about their emotions and how to deal with them became a great tool to get them to talk openly about how they felt and Sophia seemed to be getting it.

"Yes, baby, what about it?", Daniel asked.

"I feel confused, because today I didn't really want to go to the ballet practice but I did it anyway", she said, "so I was really quiet and my friends noticed it, the teacher, too. And mummy, I think she's upset with me, too", she admitted.

"Well, do you remember what the turtle nurse did in the book?", Daniel questioned, "she had her first aid box full of things that make her heart feell warm and good", Sophia mumbled, "go and get it then, princess", Daniel urged.

Sophia pulled the box from under the sofa. The premise of the activity on the book as simple: the kids had to make a box full of things that helped them regulate their emotions and feelings when they felt confused, sad or anxious. While Alice was still too little to make one, Sophia loved the arts and crafts aspect of it and spent the whole afternoon with Daniel making her perfect first aid kit.

"Do you remember what we do with the bee drawing?", Daniel guided, "we take a big breath in, and then a big breath out", he exemplified, doing it three more times with her before speaking up again, "do you feel better?".

"I do, daddy", she said, fishing out something out of the box, "this is the pillow we made with mummy, she sewed it with my favourite soft fabrics", she smiled at the memory, rubbing it on her cheek, "and a picture of us, look!", she showed Daniel the frame with the picture of the first race Alice attended, the four of you in front of the motorhome with big smiles.

"That's right baby, we can also dance it out a little if you want", Daniel offered but she shook her head, showing him the empty bottle of medicine, "this is the 'No medicine', right?", she checked with him. The bottle was of course empty, but the idea was there.

"That's right! Sometimes we have to say no when we don't want to do some things", Daniel advised, remembering the story well enough without having the actual book in front of him, "to adults, we have to be more careful because there are things that we can't run from, but for your ballet classes, for example, you can say you don't want to go if you don't want to, sweetie", he told her earnestly.

"Okay daddy", she whispered, taking another deep breath with her finger following the wavy bee line on the drawing.

"Promise you'll tell me or mummy whenever that happens?", he asked, "I promise, daddy", she smiled, seeming calmer and happier now.

"That's great, Soph. I'm very proud of you for telling me that", he complimented, "Can I ask you about mummy, princess? Is she still upstairs?", he checked with her, not wanting her to think he didn't care about her anymore.

"Yes, daddy", Sophia smiled before pouting, "she's a little tired, and yesterday I think she was crying. I know I wasn't supposed to be up, but I forgot Snuggles by the door", she explained, mentioning her stuffed teddy that she loved to sleep with, "and when I went to pick it up, I heard mummy sniffling, she was doing it quietly but I heard it still", she told him.

Your daughter confirmed his suspicions. Before he left, you spoke about how you were going to handle two kids and your job, and while at the time it seemed good, the practical side of the conversation looked to be otherwise. He called everyday and he noticed you looking more tired each day, but he justified it on the adjustment. Eventually, there would be a day that you finally adapted to the routine, but that was wishful thinking.

"Soph, are you still on the phone with daddy?", you called from the corridor, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough that it wouldn't disturb Alice in the sleep you worked so hard in getting her to.

"Hey, gorgeous", Daniel said as you appeared on the screen as Sophia handed you your phone back, "I'm going to get ready for bed, mummy, I'll wait for you when you can read my bedtime story", she smiled, kissing you cheek and saying goodbye to Daniel.

"How was your day?", he asked, "busy busy, but it's over now. Things are going at full speed. Sophia was a bit quieter when she arrived, but she seemed better - no need to rub it in that she's a daddy's girl -, and Alice has caught the bug that has been going around", you shrugged your shoulders, "her temperature is slowly cooling down, and other than that, she's fine", you sighed, "and yours?".

Daniel told you about his meetings, not wanting to pester you too much as he could sense the tiredness you felt, "I'll let you go rest, though. Have a good night, gorgeous", he blew you a kiss before your face disappeared.

Opening his laptop, he looked for a flight that would make him arrive just in time for school pick up, "I can't stay for the rest of the week", Daniel said to the members of the team on the meeting room, "Y/N and the girls need me back home, so if that's okay with you, we'll do these remotely", he half stated, looking for any signs of discontentment or disagreement.

As soon as he got the green light, he couldn't wait to finish that sponsorship content meeting, filming everything he needed to as quickly as possible before bidding goodbye to everyone, going back to the hotel room and pack everything up so he could go to the airport. A long flight away from his wife and kids and all would be well.

Alice didn't sleep all that well, and in turn neither did you, so you called in to work to let them know that you would be working from home as best as you could since your little girl was staying home for the day. Sophia seemed well that morning when you dropped her off at school, soothing your heart from the worries that had plagued you.

"It's me and you, baby girl", you said, kissing the top of her head as she slept on the sling, her fist grasping the fabric of your cardigan as you walked around the house, hoping to really settle her when you heard a car outside.

"Why does that look like daddy?", you mumbled out loud as if Alice could give you her opinion, focusing on the man walking up to the front door and giving you enough time to open it.

"Before you say anything, I had to do it and I won't go back", Daniel raised his hands once he set his luggage inside, closing the door behind him and kissing the top of your head and then Alice's as you stood there surprised.

"Danny, we didn't- I-", you tried, and as if your mouth wouldn't let you lie, the words didn't seem to come out of you.

"I came as soon as I could, and I should've come sooner", he said, "I want to be here for you as much as I can and I need to make sure my girls are okay - all three of them", he looked at you, "Soph told me she heard you crying", he stated as he got you to sit on the sofa in the living room.

"Another point for the greatest mother of the year award", you chastised yourself, taking a deep breath to level out your emotions.

"No, none of that", Daniel offered sternly, "you have been juggling everything on your own and it's harder that we originally thought it would be. I'm sorry it took me so long to come", he apoligised, hands undoing the sling so he could get Alice to rest against his chest instead.

"It's been a lot - and frankly, I haven't been very good at delegating at work", you chuckled, smiling at the delicious sight of a sleeping child on Daniel's chest.

"You also need the 'No medicine' Soph has in her box", he giggled despite the seriousness of the conversation, "I can see that you haven't slept all that much, so why don't you go and have a good sleep?", he suggested, "we'll talk a little bit more about this afterwards, but you need to rest first", he said, "I'll go and pick up Sophia, so you just stay here and take care of yourself, okay?", he said, tapping your butt playfully to get you to get up and head to your bedroom.

While you caught up on sleep, Daniel tidied the house as much as he could before picking up Sophia, who excitedly ran up to her father when she saw him and his sister on the parking lot, "Is mummy with you, too?", she wondered, "no, mummy is resting at home. We are going to get some food for dinner so we can all have a cosy night in, how does that sound?", he questioned, earning cheers from her and her sister who qas thankfully feeling much better, giggling in delight as she clapped her hands.

"Who's that? That's mummy, isn't she looking pretty today, Alice? Yes, she is!", Daniel said as you walked into the kitchen, Sophia's notebook open on the table as she wrote on it, "she didn't want to leave the kitchen and I wanted to make pancakes for their snacks, so we found a middle ground", your husband justified himself.

"It's okay", you smiled, kissing everyone's cheeks and tapping Alice's nose, "well, I'm glad you're feeling better, little miss", you said.

"Also, I'm in charge of dinner. I spoke to the people on your team - I'm their boss' husband so I sort of have some power too", he joked, "and they're going to delegate the work these next few days so you can stay home to rest and just work a teeny tiny little bit. I also plan on doing the school pick ups and cooking", he smiled, proud of his plans.

"I'm okay to help, too, Daniel, really", you tried, "no need for that, like I said! I'm going to take charge of the next few days, there's no reason why I can't and it's going to be great", he giggled, "we're in this together, darling, and there's no way you're carrying this all on your shoulders".

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (01)

I didn’t expect to drop the first chapter so fast. Thank you everyone who liked and/or commented on my previous post !! Hope y’all will like this one !!

Summary <- 01 -> 02

Masterlist

Taglist

Warning: I don’t know anything about hospital or how they actually work, I tried to make it accurate as much as possible, cursing ?

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut

Also, reader is bisexual !

Working in a hospital was always exhausting. You never imagined yourself becoming a doctor; in fact, you never even dreamt of it. But with a healing quirk like yours, combined with the prestige and respect the profession brought, you felt pushed into it. It wasn’t so bad, though. Being a beta, you had an edge here. In a place where emotions ran high and pheromones flooded the air, you stayed grounded. While alphas and omegas could be thrown into chaos by the scent and pheromones around them, you kept your cool. It was one of the few perks of being a beta in a high-stress environment like this.

Today felt no different from the others as you made your way down the sterile hallway, heading for your next patient. Just as you were about to enter their room, the sound of hurried footsteps caught your attention. A group of paramedics rushed past you, wheeling a stretcher with a patient barely visible under layers of blankets.

The moment they passed, the air shifted. The doctor in charge, a tall, sharp-eyed alpha, started barking orders at the nurses, his voice cutting through the usual calmness of the hospital. You could tell by the urgency that this wasn’t just any patient. No, this had to be someone important. A pro-hero, maybe? It wouldn’t be the first time one of them was brought in after a brutal fight. For a moment, curiosity sparked inside you, and you wondered who they were. But duty called. You pushed open the door to your patient’s room, the soft click of the handle snapping you back into focus. Your professional demeanor slid into place like a well-worn mask.

"Good morning! How are you feeling today?"

The patient shifted under the thin sheet, eyes half-closed.

"Better, I think... Still sore, though," they murmured.

You nodded, already making mental notes.

“That’s to be expected. Let’s have a look at those vitals and see how you're doing.”

After finishing up with your patient, the day moved on with the usual requests and minor chaos of the hospital. It wasn’t long before Asuna, the cute omega nurse, approached you again, her brown eyes wide as she asked

“Please, Y/N, I really need to leave early today. I swear I’ll buy your lunch tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but wonder why people always came to you for favors. It wasn’t like you had a particularly welcoming vibe, yet somehow, this was the third time she had asked you to cover her last round so she could head out early.

“Y/N, I promise, it’s the last time.”

Her wide brown eyes locked onto yours, and you knew she had you. It wasn’t the first time Asuna had asked for a favor, and you doubted it would be the last.

“Alright, Asuna, you’re a pain in the ass. This is the last time, though. I mean it,” you said, though your tone didn’t carry much conviction.

Her smile brightened, and with a quick, “Thank you, Doctor L/N!” she handed you her patient list and dashed off to the locker room.

You shook your head slightly, more amused than annoyed. People always seemed to assume you were an easy target for these things, but the truth was, you just didn’t care enough to make a big deal out of it. Besides, it was easier to say yes and get on with your day than to fight over it. Since she was assigned to the hero wing, you made your way there, your steps steady and automatic. The hero wing wasn’t all that different from the rest of the hospital, just quieter. The lighting was a bit softer, and the rooms offered a little more privacy, but beyond that, it was still a hospital—white walls, the faint scent of disinfectant in the air, and the steady hum of medical equipment. You made your way down the familiar hallway, passing a few closed doors until you reached the patient’s room at the end.

After a brief knock on the door with no response, you entered the room, heading straight for the bed. Their room was larger than most, with enough space to accommodate any necessary equipment, but otherwise, it was like every other patient room. The sunlight filtered through thin blue curtains, casting a dull glow over the room. You checked the vitals on instinct, your eyes drifting to the patient, and then froze when you realized who you were looking at pro-hero Shoto Todoroki.

Seeing him up close was something else. One of Japan’s most famous heroes, practically a celebrity, and here he was, fast asleep in front of you. His hair rested against his shoulders, the unusual coloring drawing your attention in a way you couldn’t quite explain. His features were sharp yet soft and refined, but it was the contrast in his appearance, much like an exotic bird, that caught your eye. There was something striking, captivating about the way he looked. He was just... pretty. There was no other way to describe it. Everything about him screamed "pretty boy." You were so captivated by the length of his lashes, thick and dark against his skin, that you didn’t even notice when his eyes opened and met yours.

The two of you stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. You’d heard Shoto was on the quieter side, but this silence felt different, as if he were trying to figure out why a doctor had been watching him sleep. It was unprofessional—creepy, even—and you had no valid excuse for why you were still staring. The awkwardness of the moment built until it was unbearable, and just as you opened your mouth to apologize, you noticed something shift in his gaze.

There was something more beneath it now, something charged. His cheeks flushed, the soft pink blossoming across his skin like a dahlia. The color spread gradually, delicate at first but quickly deepening into a rich, vibrant hue. His wide eyes, one blue and one gray, darkened as his pupils expanded, a hazy look settling in them. As if he was suddenly hyperaware of every breath you took. The heart monitor’s consistent beeping suddenly picked up pace, the rhythm escalating without warning.

Instinctively, you reached out, your hand barely grazing his shoulder. His entire body trembled at the touch. It was immediate, his body responding to even the slightest touch.

Then, in a small, broken voice, he whispered.

“Alpha... please…”

You almost laughed at the absurdity of it, the words so out of place that they felt like a joke. But before you could react, a scent hit you, so strong and unexpected that it threatened to short-circuit your brain.

Alright, I did the first one. As always, I like criticism and I find them really helpful so don’t hesitate to tell me if something is weird or wrong about my writing !!

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers !

Summary <- 01 -> 02

Taglist

[lovelypham]

JUST ONE 10 MINUTES

prompt: you wear ni-ki's jersey for a performance of lee hyori's '10 minutes' after your relationship with him was confirmed pairing:NI-KI x idol!fem-reader genre:fluff wc:400+

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

Your relationship with Riki was revealed not too long ago, and you being a member of a fairly new debuted group that was under HYBE lead to the immense demand from fans of both respective groups for a confirmation or atleast a reply from the company

after the fire had died down you decided to ignite it yet again by pulling a rather bold move at one of your special group performances

you and your group have been practicing non-stop for your comeback and you guys made sure that everything was perfect and ready for when you had to perform

what fans didn't know was that beside the usual promotion of your title track and b-side you were also going to perform a remixed version of lee Hyori's '10 minutes'

fans of your group noticed certain spoilers in different lives of you and your fellow members taking about lee Hyori's success and how you all grew up listening to her still trending songs

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

when it was the day of the special performance which was also the last day of your promotions you had texted Riki and asked if you could borrow his number "51" jersey

Riki obviously agreed without a question but was rather suspicious when you didn't answer his question of "what do you need it for?" you remained still with your plan and decided it would be best if you don't tell him what you're planning

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

even though your heart was racing due to the previous rumors that caused a blast on the internet from both your fans and Riki's,you still chose to quickly change your shirt before you went out to the spacious stage inkigayo had to offer.

Luck seemed to be on your side that day since your stylist had dressed you up with a semi matching white frilly skirt with silver jewelry adoring your hands and neck,as well as blue sparkly eyeshadow that perfectly matched the pop color of the jersey

your members kept your secret and decided to not tell any of your stylists or managers 'cause all of you knew that you'd get in trouble easily and that is a result of your impulsive actions

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

your performance began and with a heavy heart you flawlessly did the intro part but the catch was that fans were yet to see the back of your shirt and when you turned around,showing off Riki's name and number,you could only hear screams from both women and men watching your stage and your doubts quickly disappeared after you heard the unexpected reactions you managed to pull out from fans

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

after you finished and headed towards the backstage you could see the angry gaze of your personal manager who was then reassured by your stylist that nothing would happen to you or your group as long as you don't pull another act like that.

bonus.ೃ࿐

when Riki received a weverse notification indicating that his girlfriend had posted,he didn't expect to see a mirror picture of your back with your face looking towards the mirror and a wink adoring your features while showing off his very own jersey with the caption "hope you enjoyed today's performance!!😗"

༻💿

this was really bad I'm sorry😭😭 but I was heavily inspired by the new pictures Ni-ki posted on weverse of him in his jersey at the dodgers match(?i think)

-I gladly take constructive criticism but without any hate as this is all fictional and not meant to represent any characters mentioned💗

[the-s1lly-corner]

hello! Im one(1) of the anons that requested the jane doe reader and i thought of a funny scenario

So the character of jane doe was basically decapitaded so, imagine if reader's head isnt atached to their body, and can take their head off .

The tadc cast react to the reader taking off their head and then putting It back on like nothing. Tyy!!!

( remember to rest and drink wáter) :)

TADC cast x a reader with a detachable head!

oh hoho this one is going to be fun because my TADC oc can do the same thing, can take their limbs and head off at will and as needed; so i may or may not let my excitement show in this post and use my oc as a placeholder.. i definitely will.. which reminds me, i have a sketch of my ocs human design as well as a messy ref of their digital body... i have got to draw them more.. maybe ill finish the human sketch sometime today after this post... speaking of this post! this is the last request in my inbox ! after this im gonna take a break for a bit then reopen requests! do not send in requests at this time, please! (this goes for everyone regardless of fandom </3)

CAINE:

technically i think you could consider him with a detachable head... because i dont... think he has a neck... so technically.. not phased at all, he has seen things from various different circus members.. but lets say you came before zooble, and you were also the first circus member who could do that... i think he would be really into it and be amused. probably flies right up to you chattering about that little trick of yours

POMNI:

uncomfy by it, i think it would take her a while to get used to it... i think she would be the same with zooble thanks to the "these are people" thing, with the only reason she didnt freak out at zoobles dismemberment in the pilot being because she was preoccupied with her panic and confusion of this new setting

RAGATHA:

mildly uncomfortable anytime it happens but no where near as uncomfortable as pomni, since she has had her time to get used to a bunch of weird stuff in the circus; both from the circus itself as well as the people in it.. will guide your body to your head if theres ever a scenario where the two get separated.. hand holding... smiles

JAX:

probably tries to convince you to leave your head in someones room or in a box and have some poor unsuspecting person open it.. i think that would scare anyone, even if they were used to your headless activities... probably laughs at your body wandering aimlessly trying to find your head if theres an occasion where it was forcefully knocked off.. probably nudges your head away... this only really works if your body has to blindly fumble and you having to telepathically guide it towards you instead of it just going into autopilot and knowing where you are automatically and has zero struggle beelining for the head... but fumbling... funny

KINGER:

owoo!! jumpscare!/ref

honestly i think sometimes he just rolls with it and other times hes bothered by it; really depends on how hes feeling that day... but i think the majority is that hes used to it thanks to zooble... has probably run off with your head on accident when he meant to run off with you as a whole, usually in the face of danger during an IHA...

ZOOBLE:

completely unphased by it since they can pretty much do the same thing! there isnt really much to be said since zooble neither feels this way or that in regards to your little decapitation trick... if they couldnt mess with their own parts though i think they would find your thing cool, though

GANGLE:

depending on what your digital body is themed around i think this would determine how gangle would feel about it... like zooble is mismatched and is seen taking out their antennae as well as their limbs being snagged off by jax... with zooble, is makes sense, they look like a mismatched mess of different parts.. so if you were something that could reasonably do the same thing i think she can overlook it... now the first time would still be a shock, no doubt about it, regardless of theme.. very careful whenever theres a reason they need to get close to your head, she does not wanna knock it off and potentially upset you

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

15/16

<<< previous part

Word count : 5.2k

Warning: poorly translated French (English translation at the end)

A/N : I feel terrible about how long it’s taken me to write this, the inspiration just hasn’t been with me for a little while. I hope you enjoy it regardless ❤️

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SC - With the weight of the world seemingly off her shoulders, y/n absolutely flew around the track today. It feels like for the first time in a while, we’re seeing Thirty in her element once again.

Even with two rampaging Bulls chasing her down, it’s the Prancing Horse who takes the chequered flag. Y/N Y/L/N wins the Spanish Grand Prix!

MB - Despite all of the noise this weekend, it’s races like this one that define y/n as one of the best drivers of this generation. From the flawless start, to defending from the tremendous speed of the two Redbulls when it mattered most - that was a wonderful race to watch.

SC - I’m sure Ferrari were hoping for a 1-2 finish today, but after Charles' engine issues forced him to retire, I think they’ll be happy to get the most possible points with y/n’s fastest lap too. Look at that celebration, if there’s one thing about Thirty, every win is just as exciting as the last.

The feeling you got when you won never was any less triumphant, no matter how many you had tucked under your belt. But after how long the weekend had felt, this one felt particularly special. You climbed atop your car and pumped your fists above your head - practically giddy with glee as the crowd cheered for you, the underlying boos barely phasing you. They just didn’t matter - their opinions didn’t matter.

Your eyes zeroed in on a small group of girls who were in the grandstands, dressed head to toe in red - waving a banner for you above their head. Their celebrations seemed louder than anyone else's so you made sure to wave, putting the biggest smile on their faces before you hopped over to the car.

You laughed as the team swept you up in a tight hug when you ran over to the barrier, patting you on the helmet - the noise vibrated through you, making your heart soar. If there was a group of people you knew you could rely on, it was your team; even after your reveal, they were never any less supportive of you, always there for you no matter what the result was and treating you as they always had. It was one of the reasons why none of the contracts you offered tempted you, Ferrari are your family, you belong in red.

After swapping your helmet for your team cap, both Redbull drivers approached - Max giving you an overly enthusiastic bro hug, slapping your back so hard it almost hurt but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Amazing job, y/n. Almost got you.”

“Well, thankfully you and the smooth operator were too busy having a family squabble for that.” You teased, pulling back to let Carlos hug you as well, the Spaniard’s strong arms looped around your middle. “Now, if you boys don’t mind me - I have a winner’s interview to do.”

“Good job, y/n. Really happy for you.” Carlos made sure to get his praises in before you head across parc ferme. “See you soon.”

“Congratulations, y/n, what a result!” Naomi looked almost as excited as you as you approached for your post race interview. “How are you feeling right now?”

Your face was already hurting from how much you were smiling, you placed a hand on top of your cap and laughed. “I’m over the moon, this win felt so good.”

“After all you’ve had to deal with since your reveal, this is definitely wonderful to see.” She praised. “You raced spectacularly, anything you’d like to say to the people out there who still doubt you?”

“Honestly? After everything the guys, Max, Pierre, Esteban and Charles especially, put on the line for me, none of it really matters anymore. I have confidence in my skills and talent in this sport and knowing that my rivals believe in me too means everything… I won’t pretend that reading cruel things online will magically stop hurting, but I know what I’m capable of. I’m a world champion for a reason and there’s nothing anyone can say that will take that away from me.”

“Is this the start of your triumphant return, are we going to see you up on the top step now you’ve got your confidence back?”

“I’m ready for whatever the rest of the season throws at me. The championship is still all to play for right now, so I’m going to put my best foot forward and focus on racing.”

“Thank you so much, y/n. Congratulations. Your race winner, everybody!”

You waved at the crowd as you stepped inside to head to the cool-down room, your heart racing. Max and Carlos both greeted you with large smiles as you stepped into the room, the Spaniard playfully swatting at the brim of your cap to knock it from your head - swapping it for the 1st place Pirelli cap. “Much better, hermosa.”

“Thank you, however…” You knelt down to pick up your Ferrari hat, dusting it off before placing it on the table, a teasing lilt to your voice as you spoke. “Don’t disrespect! You can be proud of me for winning without being rude about my team, Carlos. I won’t ever let you forget you were almost one of us.”

“Idiot.” Max mumbled playfully, a strong arm draping across your shoulder - his eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “Congrats again on the win, y/n. You raced like a proper champ.”

“It felt good. Like of course winning is always good but this one felt different. Perhaps it was the timing of it, but there’s something about winning while feeling confident in myself again that makes me hungry for more.” You smiled softly. “To be honest, it felt more like the two of you were pushing me along than racing me… I’d thank you for taking it easy on me but there’s no way that that’s true.”

“You know I’d never do that. It was all you.” The Dutchman scoffed. “How dare you remember how good you are at racing, how am I supposed to beat you now.”

The way you grinned at him, gave Max flashbacks to your karting days together - your genuine joy when you beat him or all of the other boys in races. He could picture the small girl with her hair all messy from her helmet, sticking her tongue out at him when he whined to his Dad that a girl beat him. It’s not fair, she pushed me! When in reality you were just talented from day one. The way anyone could ever doubt you were Thirty bewildered him because you were you. Driven. Passionate.

It was why he never had any issue sharing the podium with you - your wins felt truly earned. Sure every driver had a win or two that they got under unusual circumstances but when the two of you were on those steps together, he could see how much you enjoyed it, no matter which number win it was and finally being able to see your smile made it all the better.

As you lifted your trophy above your head, you scanned the crowd for Charles - who, despite his DNF, was now standing in the front row, smiling up at you with pride. He threw you a cheesy wink as he clapped, not letting his own race ruin this for you. Despite not being your first win of the season, it was your first time on the top step so you relished every second of it - drowning both Redbull drivers in champagne before chugging some of the sparkling liquid. Max made sure he poured his drink down the back of your race suit, something he insisted he missed out having to share with your body double after the last win when you scolded him for it.

You felt on top of the world, all of your criticisms temporarily forgotten when that evening, all you could hear was the clinking of glasses against your own - the girls’ lips all sparkled with champagne as they toasted your victory. As much as you loved the guys, being celebrated by other women made your win all the more special. Lily looped an arm around your middle and pulled you close as Carmen snapped a photo - their laughter twinkling through the air. They gushed on how amazingly you raced, teasing you as your cheeks flushed.

All of this however, didn’t stop Charles watching you from across the bar - your red race suit traded for a gorgeous dress of the same colour, your eyes sparkling under the lights. The confidence you were radiating was intoxicating; he wanted to blame it on the beer he was drinking but there was nothing more he wanted than to have his hands all over you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, everything about you was magnetic. He wanted to steal you from the girls, but he knew you needed this. Even when Max slapped him on the shoulder, he struggled to tear his eyes away.

“She’s not going to vanish if you stop looking at her, mate.” The dutchman teased, Charles finally turned away from you. “Let her celebrate, she knows where you are when she’s ready.”

“Something about her is just…different. Lighter.”

Max smiled softly, secretly fond of how Charles was with you. “She just won a race!”

“No, no. It’s more than that.” The other driver insisted. “But I just can’t put my finger on it… and if you’ll excuse me, I can’t just watch from a distance. She’s too beautiful.”

“Gross.”

He shoved Max lightly on the arm before crossing the bar to get to you, weaving between the flashes of red of those who were still in their team kit. Charles watched Lily give you a look before you cast your eyes over your shoulder - your face cracking into a grin. Your teammate felt grateful you were as pleased to see him as he was you. “Charles.”

“Mon amour.” He hummed, draping an arm around your waist - pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Sorry, I couldn’t stay away from you any longer. Having fun?”

“So much. I’m glad you’re here actually, we were just talking about you.” You lent into his touch.

“Oh yeah?”

Lily’s brow raised playfully. “You’ve got a big battle coming, il Predestinato. Now that our girl’s back, you ready to step it up?”

“I don’t think she ever left.” You looked at him as he spoke, his green eyes already fixed on you. “Just needed a little reminder of who she is.”

You smiled softly at him before leaning in to kiss him - his hand coming up to rest on your jaw. “I’ll never forget again thanks to you, and who knows, there’s still 16 races to go… anything could happen.”

“Joint world champions.” He teased, “That ever happened before?”

“Don’t think so.” Your laughter was soft, Charles had practically forgotten the presence of the girls watching you both with a fondness in their eyes. “But if anyone could do it, it would be us.”

“Cheers to that and cheers to you, y/n. I love you.”

You clinked your glass against his. “I love you too.”

***

Yourusername added to their instagram story

***

After your race win in Imola and poor strategy in Monaco from your team - ruining Charles’ chance at a win at his home grandprix, it didn’t take long for you to catch up to your teammate in the points and by the time the chequered flag was waved in Azerbaijan, you were the championship leader and it felt good. You could tell the strategy calls were starting to affect your boyfriend but whenever you brought it up, he told you it was all fine and that he was nothing but happy for you and selfishly, you believed him. You wanted him to feel as excited as you did, and it was the first time in a long time you were feeling good about your career.

Instead, you focused on racing with the same confidence you always knew you had before your reveal and with the people around you always making sure you had a smile on your face - the last few straggling cynics barely made a noise over the roaring crowds every time you lifted a trophy above your head.

Part of you thought maybe you had just become more attentive now you were free to be yourself, but every race that passed seemed to have more and more female fans eager to greet you at the barricades, ecstatic that you were leading the championship even if there was only 7 points in it.

“You’ve got this in the bag, y/n!” They always told you Canadian’s were nice, and it was shown with the way your new poor assistant’s arms were piled high with gifts as fans chatted away with you. You were never allowed to talk to them before as Thirty, so meeting them really was a delight. “Those boys don’t stand a chance.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Charles is pretty good.” You smiled softly. “But, I’ll tell you what… I’m gonna do my absolute best for you.”

“You’re already the champion in my eyes, regardless of how the season ends.”

“Oh stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” You laughed softly, giving the girl a one armed hug. “I have to go now, thank you all though - for the support, the gifts. I’ll try and win for you today, promise.”

You helped to take some of the gifts from your assistant before heading towards the motorhome, saying hi to the other drivers as you passed by - after the protest, they had much more an effort to include you in idle chit-chat or debates they were having with another driver. Whether it was Esteban trying to get you to convince Mick and Lance that his long standing feud with Max was definitely over or Kevin showing you photos of his kid, it was nice. It was truly all you had ever wanted from your reveal - not just to be a driver, but to feel like one too.

Charles tucked you under his arm before the driver parade started, bickering with Pierre in French about god knows what but the glint in their eyes and the cheeky smile on Charles’ face assured you it was all in good fun. You simply rested your head against your boyfriend, eyes closed as you enjoyed the surprisingly warm weather as you waited for the flatbed to start moving.

“Mon amour, are you falling asleep standing upright?” He teased, squeezing you into his side.

“Mhmm, you’re so comfy, Charles.” You hummed softly, standing up straighter as the engine began to rumble - wanting to wave to the crowds instead of being caught dozing. “Besides, I’ve got to be well rested before I win the race later.”

“Leading the championship and suddenly your ego is massive.” Pierre teased, kicking you lightly in the shin - making you whine and glare at him. “I’m kidding. You deserve to be cocky, you have been very impressive recently.”

You raised a brow. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Gasly.”

“Uh oh, Pierre, you’ve made an enemy of Thirty. You better there’s no chance of the two of you tangling during the race.”

You practically snorted out a laugh. “Oh Charles, he won’t need to worry… unless, maybe I end up lapping him.”

“Oh it is on.”

It was your turn to bicker with Pierre, your boyfriend slipping away to talk to some of the others as the flatbed pulled back in to drop you all off at the pits. You felt in such high spirits when you got in the car that there was just nothing that could stop you - you were sure of it. You were going to get your 3rd title and Ferrari their first WCC since 2018. it felt like you owed them at least that much after keeping you on.

And oh, did you love this track. With its tight barriers hugging the track and long straights, the high speed was risky but made the race all the more exciting. That paired with the two Redbull’s sniffing at your car’s rear end and your teammate starting at the back of the grid, it was bound to be an exciting race.

Max put up a hell of a fight, chasing you down and barely giving you even a second to breathe - he nearly caught you on more than one occasion, but not pitting during the late safety car was his fatal mistake - his pebbled tires were no match for your shiny new softs. And before long you were lifting your second consecutive first place trophy above your head, Max and Lewis alongside you.

You felt untouchable, blowing a kiss in the direction of a small crowd of Redbull fans who had booed you louder than the rest as you’d been handed your trophy before giving their golden boy a good hosing down with your champagne, the two men who you shared the podium with upended the bottles over your head in a bubbling waterfall- a giddy smile on both of your faces as you celebrated.

“Hey congrats.” Lewis grinned, patting you on the shoulder as the three of you stood on the podium for the photo together. “Winning looks better on you every time.”

“Thanks Lewis, means a lot. Especially from you.”

The three of you stepped off the podium for your post race interviews, and you just couldn’t shake the electricity running through you. Not a single interview passed without them commenting on just how different you seemed - how over the course of the past few races, the personality they had loved beneath the helmet seemed to have finally come to the surface. “It’s so nice to see how much you’re enjoying racing again, y/n.”

“Yeah, it’s been really really good.” You smiled, your hands resting against the cool metal barricade in front of you. “Sure, I still see and hear some nasty stuff but it… it just doesn’t feel the same, it doesn’t hurt as bad knowing that I have nothing to prove to them. They’ll never like me, and that’s okay. I have plenty of supporters and friends who love me and back me up no matter what.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back. Hope you enjoy your weekend off, see you at Silverstone.”

You thanked the press before heading back to the Ferrari motorhome, letting out a yelp as you were practically tackled by your boyfriend as he swept you up in his arms. “There’s my race winner.”

“Oh who cares about my race win when you made it up from 19th to 5th!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him - the warmth from his body made you feel at ease. “That’s far more impressive. You very much deserved the driver of the day, I’m glad your hard work was recognised.”

“Well...” He carefully placed you on the floor, placing his hands on your hips. “How about we take our weekend off to celebrate your phenomenal race and my win, hmm?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. He smiled against your lips and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss like you weren’t surrounded by the hustle and bustle of your team packing up now the weekend was over. Neither of you cared, you simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but notice the cheeky glint in his eyes. You let your hand move to rest on his jaw, brushing your thumb across the stubble. “That sounds like an offer I simply can’t refuse.”

***

***

The skies were blue when you touched down in Silverstone, another favourite - a classic; the Tifosi showing wasn’t as big as it used to be but there were enough flashes of red amongst the crowds for you to feel their support. But, much to the disappointment of the Mercedes and Mclaren fans filling the grandstands, you and your team were currently on track to win the whole thing. You’d spent more time than you cared to admit trying to figure out what the earliest race you could win the championship at despite your slow start to the season.

But with Charles, Max and Carlos all having an equally impressive score sheet, you honestly had no idea which way it was going to go - you could only hope it would be in your favour. You’d worked so hard to fight for not only the championship, but the respect you deserved that you knew that you couldn’t stop now. Everything was to play for and you couldn’t back down now.

SC - Welcome one, welcome all to the Formula 1 Lenovo British Grand Prix here at Silverstone, the sun is shining down on all of us Martin and it looks set to be a good race. With the Ferraris and Redbulls occupying the two front rows, it will be a challenge for anyone else to claim victory. Our Championship leader shares the front row with Max Verstappen, who is gaining with each race on her and her teammate Charles Leclerc.

MB - It definitely is one to watch, the battle between the Prancing Horses and Bulls has been thrilling so far this season. I can’t wait to see how this all plays out and with Y/N having claimed podiums in her last six races, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her back on that top step.

SC - I’d put money on it if I was a betting man. Her performance leading up to this point has been something special. But with Max picking up the pace, I think he’s definitely her biggest competitor right now.

MB - Now Crofty, I wouldn’t write young Leclerc off so quickly, he is second place right now.

SC - Well, I’ll guess we’ll just have to wait and see as the grid lines up for the start of the race. The British Grand Prix is about to start, engines are revving… and its lights out, and away we go!

You felt breathless as you pulled into parc ferme, what a race. Despite your win, you couldn’t help but think about Gyanyu, George and Alex - the crash at the start was scary and you were lucky to have not been a part of it with a third of the grid getting tangled up. As much as you loved to win, it was always a bittersweet feeling when others were potentially hurt.

As you climbed out of the car, you made an effort to try and catch as many of the other drivers you knew had been part of the incident as you could as they made their way through parc ferme. You immediately wrapped your arms around Seb as he climbed out of the car, your former teammate giving you a gentle chuckle in response - promising that he was okay. So you glanced around the crowd for your childhood friend, Pierre smirking as he saw you approach. “Aw, coming to check on me?”

“Don’t make me regret it, Gasly.” You chuckled, pulling him into a hug. “But if you’ll excuse me, I did just win. Catch you later.”

You tried to catch Charles before he ducked away but you were ushered towards Lewis and Carlos for the podium interviews. With your fresher tires brought on by Esteban’s safety car, he wasn’t able to hold you off… or Lewis… or Carlos. So he was understandably frustrated. But you were still happy and wanted to celebrate with the team and you were sure once he’d had his moment of annoyance, he’d be happy for you too.

It was hard to have that same attitude when the roles were reversed the following week in Austria, and it was you who barely missed out on the podium and it all came to a head in your driver’s room. “I think we need to talk.”

“Oh?” Charles gently took off his first place cap and placed it on the coffee table. “Everything okay?”

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know why we haven’t had this conversation before but I feel like we need to talk about what happened this week and last week… when one of us wins and the other doesn’t. I think we need to find the balance of being able to understand how the other one feels versus celebrating the winner.”

“Yeah, yeah I get that. Well…” He approached you slowly, placing his hands on your hips - giving a gentle squeeze. “The winner can be sympathetic and the other can be supportive, but if one of us has a particularly bad race when the other wins then we just check in on how they feel first before jumping for joy at the win.”

“We’re both in with a chance of winning this whole thing, we have to promise not to let that get in the way of what we have.” You looped your arms around his neck, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. “I'm really happy with you and I don’t want me beating you to ruin that.”

“Oh, you’re gonna beat me are you?” Charles chuckled. “Well, best of luck, mon amour. You’re gonna need it.”

***

***

Leading up the summer break, things stayed on the up for you but not so much for Charles the agreement between the two of you more in force than ever. Hungary was the last race before you could enjoy a relaxing few weeks away from the paddock but with Charles’ DNF in France the weekend before he’d lost 2nd in the WDC to Max, the Dutchman now 5 points ahead thanks to his victory and it was clearly bothering him. You were soaring ahead and he was starting to be left behind - you 33 points ahead.

Charles spent as much time as he could with fans, making sure not one was missed - chatting away, taking photos and bringing as many smiles to their faces as he could. He would always be the tifosi’s golden boy; despite you leading, he would always have a special place in their hearts and you couldn’t blame them. There was something charming and gentle about him, he was impossible to dislike. The way he avidly listened to every word fans said to him, the look on his face full of genuine interest. He was so kind and you knew someday he was going to live up to the massive expectations they had all put on his shoulders - you wanted to win the championship, but someday it was going to be his turn and you knew that he would have their support every step of the way.

As you finally stepped away from the crowds, you linked your fingers with his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze - noticing his deflated stature as you walked towards the motorhome. Neither have you qualified on pole and his hopes of winning were being diminished by the minute. “You looked like you were having a good time with the fans, what’s the matter? Talk to me…”

“I hate to say it, amour, but now that you’re off ahead in the distance - I’m gonna have to play the role of second driver.” He grumbled softly. “I really want you to do well, y/n, I do, but I want it to be fair.”

A soft sigh left your lips and you turned him to face you, his green eyes locked on yours. “I won’t let it be unfair. I’m gonna talk to my engineers and let them know how I feel about it.. When I beat you, it’s all gonna be on my own merit.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile, shaking his head a little. Your heart skipped a beat at his laughter, his strong arms looping around your middle. “And when I beat you, it’ll be because I deserve it too.”

“Exactly. We’re equals.” You lent up to press a kiss to his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Last race until the summer break, we just have to get through this and then you and I can escape to your yacht and make the most of the privacy.”

“You are beyond tempting.” He purred, pulling you in closer. “If we weren’t surrounded by all these prying eyes, I’d have you exactly where I want you.”

A giggle escaped you, you raised a playful brow at him. “Well, then what are we waiting for? Your driver’s room has a lock on the door, doesn’t it?”

Your teammate groaned, his nose nudging against yours before he kissed you with even more intensity than before - not caring about the cameras or poor staff members walking past you both to get into the building. The butterflies erupted in your stomach as he smiled against your lips, not wasting a second more before he tugged you into the building towards his driver room. He pressed your back against the door as he closed it, his pupils blown with lust as they scanned your figure. “As pretty as you look in red…”

“I’d look better in nothing?” You teased, slipping your hands under his polo - he shivered as your cold hands ran across his skin. “C’mon, Charles. You can do better than that.”

“You’re impossible.” He shook his head, dropping his voice to a whisper as his lips brushed across your skin. “Tu es délicieux(1)…je t’aime de tout mon coeur(2).”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. “God, you speaking French really does something to me.. Don’t stop.”

He tugged you away from the door as he pulled your polo over your head, lips only breaking from your skin to mutter filth in french. You were weak at the knees as he pulled back to look at you - his lips shiny with your gloss. You reached up to brush your thumb across his bottom lip before tugging on his chin gently to bring him back into a kiss as he began to work on the button of your jeans.

“Did you lock the door?” You managed to get out, feeling breathless but your boyfriend seemed relentless, grunting in response as he dropped to his knees to pull your jeans over your hips, tugging you lightly so you thumped down on the couch with a soft oof. “Charles, the door.”

“You’re killing me.” He whined, running his hands up the insides of your thighs - pushing them apart. “Je ne peux pas supporter d'être loin de toi ne serait-ce qu’un instant(3), amour.”

You draped a leg over his shoulder. “If anyone walks in, I’ll run you off the track later.”

His lips curved into a devilish smirk. “Deal.”

****

charles_leclerc posted to his instagram stories

***

Next part >>>

(1) you’re delicious

(2) I love you with all my heart

(3) I can't stand being away from you for even a moment

I hope you enjoyed ❤️ thank you for all your continued support regardless of my terrible posting schedule

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head over to #reaction-roles and click the sunflower 🌻

[sgiandubh]

@outlanderskin :"For those who have doubts: just research a little about Caitríona's dating history. See how she treated Dave and James and how she talked about them in interviews. See how she wrote about the Irish boyfriend she had in Paris in that article. Compare all of this to the impersonal way she treats or talks about Tony. Bingo🙃"

Good point 👌

Dear Good Point Anon,

You know, it's really serendipitous, as I have just finished a weeklong deep dive in very, very old press articles on (or at least mentioning) S and C, who clearly had a life before OL, thinking it would be nice to put some of my archive work skills to good service.

I think @outlanderskin was referring to C's New York Times article I reviewed and analyzed last summer, but I just found way better: a very long report in the Irish Independent's Sunday issue of July 11, 2004, focused on the next generation of Irish supermodels. Of which there could be only one, at that time: C, who dominates Roxanne Parker's 'Through Thick and Thin".

I am sorry, there is no link available to my knowledge, so we'll have to work with these very poor xerox scans:

I took the liberty of generously using my dreaded highlighter and, for the people who need to translate this post with Google, I am now taking my time to type what I find damn interesting in this almost twenty-year old article:

'If Ireland ever has a hope of having its own supermodel, then Caitriona Balfe is it. Sitting in the Pink Pony Café on Ludlow Street in New York, Caitriona swirls a wad of bread into her carrot and coriander soup while informing me that her musician boyfriend just brought her a breakfast-in-bed of cream eclairs and coffee a little over an hour ago. But that doesn't stop Caitriona from finishing her lunch and chasing it with a large cocoa-dusted cappuccino. Ebony-tressed and ivory-skinned, Caitriona clip-clops down the cobbled street after we leave the cafe, heading towards her apartment in Chinatown with Dave Mailone (sic!), the boyfriend, in tow.'

This reads, in 2024, like an interview with a more benevolent C clone from a totally different planet, indeed. A young, carefree, in love and hysterically funny C, who apparently had no problem heavily dishing out happy tidbits of her private life to her home country's press. A C also very much reminiscing anyone with a brain of the 2013-2018 bantering C, as this quote shows:

Again, you'll have to indulge me retyping it, Anon (tedious, I know - but helpful). She is remembering her real breakthrough, in November 2002, at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, in New York:

That was the most I've ever been paid for a show. I've got 18,000 euros for one day's work! They made me get a spray tan before the show, and I was still the whitest and the least well-endowed girl in the entire show! So what did she have to wear on the big day? `Not a whole lot! I think I described my outfit on the day as something Wilma Flintstone would wear on her honeymoon night. There wasn't a whole lot to it and it had bits of fur hanging off it.'

And, for good measure, we even have a (admittedly, awful) picture with the season's fiancé, with whom things did not end well:

I know, it looks like a Pravda pic, circa 1957 and I am honestly sorry. But it's still very clear. And, which is more important, very eloquent.

Anon and reader, you draw your own conclusions on this. I know where I stand. The only guy C has similar pics taken with and released in the press or on social media is the peasant some love to bash every single day in here. Their problem, not mine.

Yes, of course Mordor will yell and hiss. Of course they will throw rotten tomatoes at the blunt knife and scream THIS IS OLD. But hey, do you have any better than this poor (but oh, so endearingly authentic) picture or than any given S&C pic before the fucking EFH and IFH, when she gradually started to turn into today's Reclusive, Restrained and Rarefied Greta Garbo wannabe?

Oh, and please: don't give me the 'he's shy' or the paperwork crap again. Her public persona has drastically changed, and not for the better. It's plain to see and there are reasons for this.

Who's to blame? This question is so wrong, in so many ways.

The question should be 'what's to blame?'

I'll stop here, Anon and I hope it was somewhat useful. Thank you for dropping by.

[abiteofhoney]

The Vampire and The Devilspawn

i found two different typos and realized that i needed to change a few lines after i posted it the first time. so let’s try this again. if there are still typos this time, no there isn’t :) also i had to format this on mobile so if anything is off or weird, whoopsies

4402 words | Chapter Navigation

Chapter 3

Maggie’s leg bounces anxiously as she glances at the room around her. It’s oddly familiar - uncomfortably familiar - with its plain white walls and grey plastic chairs. A single clock sits on the wall, ticking away in the silence. While Magdalena has never been in this room, she’s almost certain that she’s been in a room like it before, even though she has no specific memory of it.

And it sets her on edge. She keeps her eyes trained on the only door to the room with the sinking feeling that someone is going to come through that door and try to attack her.

Anzurin sits next to her, just as still and silent as she is. He glances at her periodically, never for more than a few seconds at a time.

Just when Magdalena is beginning to feel like she wants to shred her own skin off just to rid herself of the uncomfortable feeling coursing through her, the door swings open, and Inessa comes through with a yellow-ish folder in her arms. She gives the two of them a tight-lipped smile and takes the chair on the other side of Anzurin. “Labs came back alright,” she says with an uneasy edge, “but I have some concerns about the x-rays.

Anzurin sits up straighter. “What kind of concerns? What is it?”

Inessa glances at Maggie, her gaze trailing from head to toe. “Fractures,” she answers. “A lot of them.” She opens up to the folder to reveal a stack of black and white pictures of bones, and Magdalena leans in to get a closer look. It’s a strange thing to look at her own bones, but she kind of likes it. “Some new, some old,” Inessa continues, pointing out all the little spots she circled with red ink. There’s a lot of red circles.

“What the fuck,” Anzurin murmurs. “That many? How is that even possible?”

She flips to an x-ray of Magdalena’s ribs, pointing at one spot that she circled multiple times. “This one’s new. Like… it happened today, new.”

Magdalena presses her hand to her ribs, where there’s still a slight ache, and she knows exactly what it’s from.

It seems Anzurin does too, grumbling, “Velur kicked her. I’d bet that’s from him. And if the rest of them are also from him…” He trails off, not bothering to finish his sentence, but it’s understood through the anger radiating from him. He sighs and shakes his head. “What else?”

“I think that’s the only recent one. At first glance, anyway – I can look at them closer later and also have some fresh eyes look them over. But some of these look like they healed slowly, while she was still human, but some of them healed quickly and out of place, after she was changed, and she wasn’t looked after. And they’re everywhere, sir. Her arms, legs, ribs, hands, feet. Even her face.”

“With this many breaks and fractures, it seems more like she was tortured to me,” Anzurin scoffs. He takes the folder from Inessa, flipping through the pictures while only spending a few seconds on each, and with each one he looks at, the creases between his brows get deeper. After sifting through all of them, he finally looks over at Magdalena, brandishing them at her. “What happened to you, Magdalena? Who did this to you?”

She has no memories of receiving any of those injuries, except for one of them, so she pokes at her ribs and says, “Velur.”

“That one, I don’t doubt,” Anzurin says, “but the ones you got before you were made? Who did those?”

“Dunno,” she shrugs.

Turning back to Inessa, Anzurin tells her, “Not right now, but before too long, I want a scan of her brain, or something. I want to know if her memory loss is completely due to whatever this other devilspawn did to her, or if some of it’s injury related.”

“She responded well to my tests; I don’t think she has any brain damage, and if she does, it’s minimal. I don’t think it’s the cause of her lapse in memory.”

“More than a lapse,” Anzurin grumbles, standing out of his seat. He holds a rosy-palmed hand out to Magdalena. “Now that we know you’re mostly okay, we should get that blood cleaned off of you. It might do us good to get some rest and revisit this later.”

Magdalena takes his hand without thought, her entire hand engulfed by his. The devilspawn she’s met so far have all been much larger than her. The top of her head barely reaches Anzurin’s shoulder, maybe just his collarbones. But she and Inessa are nearly the same size, Inessa only slightly taller.

She likes Inessa. Nothing about the woman makes her angry.

Anzurin leads her out of the empty, colorless waiting room, much to Magdalena’s relief. She hates that room. She hates how it makes her feel cold and trapped. The hallway outside is much better, painted a warm, sunshine yellow, art along the walls of green landscapes and colorful bouquets. Some of the weight on her chest stays behind in that room, and she doesn’t miss it.

As they walk side by side, Anzurin asks, “Do you have any memory of what happened to you?”

Magdalena shakes her head.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he sighs. “Do you have … any memories? At all?”

She has to think about that for a moment. “Today.”

“You only remember today? Nothing else?”

“My name,” she amends. She remembers her name.

“Well, at least you have that,” he mutters, then clears his throat. “Usually, fledglings stay in the dorms on the second level, but I’m going to put you in one of the rooms down here. Near my rooms. I’m appointing myself as your mentor, so that might be easiest for us.”

The rooms he leads her to next aren’t too far away from the medical wing, going back the way they came, towards the office Velur brought her to, but just before they reach the office, he turns them down a hallway to the left. It’s a dead-end hall, with four doors: one on the right, one at the end of the hall, and two on the left. He points first to the one on the right. “This one will lead back into the office. The one at the end goes into my personal rooms, this one is the bathroom, and then this will be your room.” He opens the door closest to them on the left, revealing a fully furnished bedroom, decorated much like the rest of the manor with warm-toned wood and deep reds.

Maggie’s attention is drawn first towards the bed, wanting nothing more than to go lay down in it. She starts towards it, but Anzurin tugs on her arm. “It’s probably best if you wash up before getting into bed, Magdalena. Though, then again, you don’t strike me as the type to mind sleeping in a puddle of blood. Come on. You have access to the bathroom through here.”

He leads her into the bathroom and shows her around, showing her where the towels are and the soaps, and he starts the shower for her before leaving her to herself to clean up.

Once alone, Maggie isn’t quite sure what to do. She stands in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the steaming water running out of the showerhead, and then she looks down at her own bloody clothes. Slowly and robotically, her body moving on its own accord as she’s barely present in her own skin, Magdalena undresses and steps under the water.

She flinches when it hits her head, but quickly relaxes as the warmth washes over her. Dropping her chin to her chest, she watches the water run off of her and down the drain, a deep red at first, and slowly fading through shades of pink before it finally begins to run clear.

Without using any of the soaps, she steps out of the shower, leaving the water running, and she returns to the bedroom, to Anzurin. He glances up when she opens the door, his already red cheeks darkening, eyes wide. He splutters for a moment, gaze trailing her entire body before finally spitting out, “I showed you where the towels are. Are you done? Do you need something?”

“Done,” she croaks and shivers. “Cold.”

Anzurin laughs awkwardly, dropping his gaze to his hands. “Yeah, I can see that.” Then he grabs a bundle of cloth next to him, walking towards her to hand them to her. “These should fit you.” She shadows behind him, the clothes in her hands, as he ventures past her and into the bathroom. He shuts off the water and then comes back to her and sniffs her head. “Did you actually wash, or just rinse the blood off?”

She shrugs, giving no verbal response.

He tugs his fingers through her wet and knotted hair. “You still have blood caked in here.” He takes the clothes from her and turns to set them on the counter. “Get back in the shower. We’ll at least get your hair clean.”

Maggie does as told, stepping back into the shower after Anzurin turns the water back on. She stands there, waiting while Anzurin picks two bottles out of the cabinet. He also grabs a large towel and a smaller one, and then carries the pile over to the shower. He hands all but the bigger towel to her, and she just holds onto them, unsure what to do as he returns to the vanity across the room.

He sets the towel on the counter, pausing there for a moment, and braces his hands on the counter as he looks into the large mirror in front of him. He doesn’t look at himself, though, instead staring at Magdalena.

Except, in the mirror, the shower is empty, and Magdalena is nowhere to be seen. She searches for her own reflection, but only sees two bottles and a hand towel floating in the air. She looks down at herself, needing to make sure that she actually has a body that she can see. And there is flesh when she looks. Scarred, discolored flesh, but it’s a body she can see and touch. It’s not gone like it seems to be in the mirror.

Heaving a deep sigh, Anzurin pulls a comb out of the drawer at his hip, and then comes into the shower with her, leaving his clothes on. He slides the glass door closed and takes the bottles from her to set them on a glass shelf to her left, but lets her keep the rag clenched in her hands.

Anzurin takes a bottle and pours a small dab of soap into his palm and then hesitantly reaches for Maggie’s head. She doesn’t move, allowing him to slide his fingers past her hairline, and a shiver runs down her spine when his nails scratch lightly across her scalp. Her eyes flutter closed and she sways on her feet, breathing in the flowery, soapy scent. It grows stronger as he lathers the soap in her dirty hair, working his fingers through the knots. She hums contentedly, and a ghost of a smile stretches across her lips.

When she opens her eyes, there’s a familiar man standing in front of her, grinning happily down at her. She studies his pale face, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar, searching his human eyes and their sky-blue color. Then he blinks, and his eyes flick to all black, covering even the whites of his eyes, and his grin grows threatening.

In a flash, Magdalena’s hand snaps out, pinning his wrist to the wall and sending suds flying in all directions. Her breathing comes heavier, chest heaving as she glares at him, fangs bared in a silent snarl.

But she steps back abruptly, releasing him once she realizes that it’s not the black-eyed, pale-faced man standing in front of her, but Anzurin, looking shocked and confused, red irises glowing in their black abyss.

Magdalena looks around, just as confused.

Where’d that man go?

She slides the glass door open, searching the bathroom for the man she just saw, ready to chase him into the next room if she has to, but Anzurin catches her hand just as she lurches for the door. He tugs her back, hands braced on her shoulders as she tries to twist around in search of the other guy.

“Magdalena, stop. What – what are you looking for?”

“Him,” she snarls.

“Who? Velur? It’s just you and me in here. Velur is long gone, Magdalena. Come on, come back. Let’s get your hair washed.”

She doesn’t know who it was, but it wasn’t Velur.

Still on edge, she allows him to guide her back under the water, but when his hands return to her hair, she doesn’t enjoy it like she did before. She stands there stiffly, unmoving and unblinking; she stares at Anzurin, making sure that the other man doesn’t take his place again.

She watches his every movement as he shampoos her hair twice and slathers conditioner into it. And more so as he drags the comb through it, over and over until it no longer snags, and she still hasn’t blinked but the time he’s rinsing her hair, stiff as a board while he takes the cloth and cleans behind her ears, and then, finally, he shuts the water off.

Anzurin steps out first and Magdalena numbly follows, both of them dripping water the entire way. He grabs the towel from the counter and wraps it around her, tucking it under her arms, and finally, after a long stretch of silence, he asks, “What was that? Who were you looking for?”

“The man.” Her gaze darts around the bathroom in search, just in case she missed him and he’s still lurking around the corner.

Anzurin also looks around. “What man? Velur? He’s not here.”

“Not him,” she grumbles.

“Then who? There’s no one else in here. Did you remember something?”

Oh. She hadn’t thought about that.

Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, Magdalena tries to recall the man’s face. Was it only a memory? Was he not really there?

“Maybe,” she mutters. Still, she looks around to check one more time. Just to be sure.

Anzurin nods and steps back, pointing at the clothes he’d left on the counter by the sink. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be right back.”

She does as told, unfolding the clothes to find a pair of loose fitting jeans and soft dark green shirt that has tiny little puffballs stuck all over it. She picks a few of them off before slipping the shirt on, and then the jeans - even though she doesn’t really like the feeling of denim on her skin - and then she just stands there to wait for Anzurin to return.

But after a few seconds, she steps in front of the large mirror and looks at herself.

At least, she tries to, but there’s no her in the reflection. Not even the clothes she’s wearing. Not a single part of herself is in the mirror, and it feels so odd to stare at a mirror but only see an empty room. She should see herself, shouldn’t she?

She can’t even remember what she looks like.

Magdalena grabs a chunk of her wet hair, pulling it in front of her face. “Red,” she murmurs, then touches the skin around her eyes. What color are they? She looks down at her body to study her fair skin, densely covered with freckles and paler than it should be, with little pink scars all over her visible skin. More than the fractures in her bones. She touches a few of them, running her fingertips over the rough bumps, and she tries to remember where they came from. They had to have come from somewhere.

Why can’t she remember anything?

Frustrated, Magdalena lashes out, letting loose a shriek at her not-reflection, begging that she remembers something, anything, and angry that she sees nothing when she looks in the mirror. She slams her hand into the traitorous glass with another wild shriek, sending shards flying in all directions and embedding into the palm of her hand. Her gaze becomes transfixed on her sliced skin, the red blood that drips to the white marble counter.

There’s a slight stinging pain in her hand, but not as much as she expects after slicing her hand over with many tiny shards of glass. She makes quick work of picking out the glass, then places her mouth around her sliced skin, lapping up her own blood. It has a strange bitter tang that she doesn’t much care for, but it’s not bad enough to deter her hunger.

The door flies open and Maggie whirls to find Anzurin standing there with a wild gaze that bounces between her and the broken mirror. He’s in dry clothes now – a black pair of trousers and a green and gold tunic - with his dark hair dripping water into his blazing red eyes.

Magdalena points her bloody hand at the broken mirror and barks one question: “Why?”

“Why what?” he snaps. “Why’d you just break my mirror? I don’t know! If I can’t even leave you alone for a minute, then we’re –”

“No!” she shouts at him. She points at what’s left of the mirror, at the fact that there’s no her. She pokes herself in the chest, then points at her fangs, and finally, jams her finger to her temple where she seems to have the most issues. Unable to find the words, she once again screams, “Why!”

A moment passes. And then two.

Anzurin’s face falls and his shoulders slump. “Oh,” he mutters, blinking as his shock and anger fizzles. He drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing before he lets out a bitter laugh that’s more of a scoff. “Shit. Right. Of course you’re angry. You should be. All of a sudden, you’re a starved and tortured fledgling with no memories.” He steps into the bathroom, closer to her but not yet approaching her. “Do you even know what you are? Do you know anything about vampires?”

She has a fundamental knowledge that comes flooding back when he says the word. She’s heard of vampires before – bloodthirsty night-crawlers, people that were once human and now have the urges of a monster, and the abilities of one, too. She knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, of a world in which humans and vampires exist together, and she knows that she was once part of it. She just can’t remember how exactly she fit into that world.

Magdalena points at her chest once again. “I’m not human.”

She doesn’t ask it, but Anzurin answers anyway. “No, not anymore, but you were once.” He ventures into the room and comes to join her at the vanity, shoes crunching on broken glass. He picks up the small rag that he’d used in the shower to clean the new blood off of her hand and arm and where she’d smeared it around her mouth. As he cleans her up, he tells her, “Brem is hopefully finding out whatever he can about your human life, something that I hope will help refresh your memory, but I suppose what you really need to know now is what you are.”

She gives a jerky nod. She knows of vampires, but not much about them.

“You’re a vampire, Magdalena. Well, a fledgling, right now. Not quite a vampire yet, but you’ll be there in a few months. You lost a good chunk of your time as a fledgling to … well, wherever you were.”

“Three months,” she says, remembering what they’d said when she’d been prodded earlier.

“That’s what we estimate, yes. Usually, the fledgling period can last anywhere from six to nine months.” He holds her chin gently, tilting her head up as he wipes the blood off of her lips. “You’re hungriest during this period, but it calms down gradually as you fully develop into a vampire. But, unfortunately, it seems to be that you’ve been starved, so you’re hungrier than most.”

Magdalena runs her tongue along the tips of her fangs, the taste of her own bitter blood still clinging to them. Her hunger isn’t so bad now, but it’s still a dull ache in the pit of her stomach, and she fears that it may never go away, no matter how much she drinks.

Anzurin drags the cloth along her chin and continues. “But being a vampire comes with a few quirks. Bloodthirst. Advanced senses along with healing, movement, and strength. You can’t …” He glances towards the shattered mirror. “You don’t have a reflection anymore. You can’t go in the sun. You don’t need regular food or water anymore - only blood. You’ll still sleep, but not as much. You won’t age, but your hair and nails and things still grow. There’s more than that, but you’ll learn it all as you go through your classes.”

“Hmm,” she grumbles, unhappy about what he’s saying, but unable to vocalize why.

Anzurin pauses, pulling back. “Hmm, what?”

She thinks about it for a moment before she just says, “Weird. Don’t like it.” She bumps his hand out of the way to poke at her fangs, hard enough that the point pierces her finger, which she quickly places on her tongue for the blood drop that escapes.

Anzurin turns to wring the cloth out in the glass-filled sink, a soft sigh passing through his lips. He turns back to her, lifting her chin to clean the underside of it. “Honestly, Magdalena, I’d change it for you if I could. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. You should have been brought here the day you were changed and taken care of properly. But we’re going to help you now, however we can. We’ll help you acclimate to vampirism and learn how to navigate this new life.”

Tired of having her face prodded, Magdalena pulls away from his touch. She drags the back of her hand across her mouth, and when it comes away clean, she deems it good enough.

Anzurin gets the message and tosses the cloth on the counter, but then he wraps his arm around her waist and lifts her. He does it so swiftly that she hardly has time to get mad about it before he’s setting her down again, away from the mess of glass on the ground. Without missing a beat, he turns and strides away, gesturing for her to follow him. “Usually, I’d assign another spawn to you, one of my appointed mentors, and they’d guide you and feed you and teach you, but I’m going to be your mentor instead. With what you’ve been through and the instincts you have, I think it’s best.”

Magdalena patters after him, bare feet tapping against the tile of the bathroom, and then the bedroom’s hardwood. She looks down at the delightful noise, a giggle bubbling in her chest. “Thwap, thwap, thwap,” she mimicks in a whisper.

Anzurin stops in the middle of the bedroom and turns back to her, his head tilted to the side. “Say something?”

She points her chin towards her feet, tapping her feet and repeating, “Thwap, thwap.”

Anzurin chuckles lightly and shakes his head. He brandishes a red hand towards the bed. “Alright. Well, this is where you’ll stay. I figured it might be time for some rest after today, and we can start fresh later. Maybe you’ll feel a little better after some rest.”

Will rest restore her memories? Will she know who she is by the time she wakes?

She feels like she could sleep, at least, so she starts towards the bed, trying to remember the last time she slept in one. The last time she slept at all. Flashes of blurry, fleeting memories brand the back of her eyelids when she blinks, memories of waking up on cold floors or in uncomfortable chairs, waking in agony.

Magdalena hesitates, stumbling back a step away from the bed. In an attempt to scrub away the memories, she grinds the heels of her hands in her eyes. Her head shakes back and forth, wet hair smacking off of her shoulders. “N-no, I – I don’t sleep there.”

Anzurin walks around in front of her, keeping his distance. “Where do you sleep, then?”

She looks around the room for an adequate spot then points towards an empty corner that looks spacious and cold. “There.”

A second passes. Two. Three. Four.

“I … I guess you can sleep on the floor if you want to, but you can sleep in the bed, too, Magdalena. It’s yours now. Everything in this room is yours.” He glances to the corner she had pointed out, staring at it for a few moments too long. “Is that where you’re used to sleeping?”

“Dunno,” she murmurs. “Feels right.”

“You can sleep in the bed,” he repeats, his voice dropping a level. Clearing his throat, he adds, “Go on, get some rest. I’ll just be in the other room if you need anything – just through the bathroom and the door on the other side. I want to trust that you’re fine to stay in here on your own, so please, when you wake up, just come get me. Don’t go anywhere else.”

Maggie looks towards the door that leads into the hallway, and she does in fact wonder what’s on the other side of it. Clearly there was more to the manor that she hasn’t seen yet, more than Anzurin’s office and the doctor’s wing.

But Anzurin grips her chin and points her gaze towards the bathroom. “No, go through there. Not out there. I don’t want you wandering around without me.”

Teeth bared, she jerks her chin out of his hold and snaps at his fingers, which he abruptly pulls away. He scowls at her for a moment, and she thinks that he might hit her for snapping at him, but ultimately, he just shakes his head and says once more. “Get some rest, Magdalena. Come get me when you wake up.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks through the bathroom to his own room, leaving her alone once more.

———

yay! chapter 3!! fun news, i’ve started putting together a fledgling handbook so we’ll see what happens with that! it’s been super fun and helpful i’m hammering out the details of fledgling stages :D

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[da-rulah]

Rituale Septem - Prologue

Pairing: Terzo x f!reader centric [More pairings to come...]

Summary: Your faith is shaking; 16 years at the Ministry, and what did you have to show for it? You'd never even heard the Dark One's voice like your Siblings... But what could you do?

Well, you could ask the advice of the one person chosen to guide his flock through adversity; Papa Emeritus III. And he has an idea that might work...

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angst, talk of doubts in faith, flirting behaviour

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist Next: Day 1 - Lust

A/N: Here it is; the fic I've been working weeks on, day in, day out. Or at least, the prologue... From today, I'll be posting a chapter every day until Halloween, each another step in the story and with a potential new pairing... so make sure you check back in for your next update!

16 years.  

You had given 16 years of faithful service to this church – and for what?  

The rage had been bubbling below the surface for so long now, simmering away on a low heat when you’d hear your siblings speak of the things He’d shown them, the things He’d said to them. He came to them, He guided them. Never you...  

It was driving you mad. You simply wanted to know you were doing good work, that you were spreading His message and performing your duties to the best of your abilities. And you knew not every sibling was blessed to hear the voice of The Dark One in their lifetime, but you thought you were doing enough, you thought that if you devoted yourself – as you had always wanted to do – then perhaps you would hear from Him. 

But nothing.  

Were you not sinning enough? Were you not praying hard enough? Were you slacking in your duties?  

You weren’t sure, but the longer that nagging doubt lingered in your mind, the worse your relationship with the church – and by extension, Him – became. You were ashamed to say, your faith was beginning to waver... 

You suppose you could have talked to Secondo about all this, being his assistant for the last six years, but frankly it was an embarrassing problem to have, and you didn’t want your boss to begin to doubt you. If his opinion of you became that you were a whiny, petulant child stomping their foot because Satan hadn’t spoken to you yet, you weren’t sure you could face that hardened, grumpy old bag every day. 

It had taken the first two years of your service with him to have him compliment your work at all – not entirely his fault, though. His previous assistants – and there had been many – were not exactly competent. But you had been, and Secondo was a difficult man to please.  

In order to tackle the problem, you set up a private meeting with Papa Emeritus III. As the reigning Papa, you felt like he would have the answers. If nothing more, he could potentially tell you definitively whether you were doing well and this was simply a moment of self-doubt, or that you were no longer right for the Satanic church... 

It would break your heart, but at least you would know. 

You couldn’t keep your hands still as you sat opposite his large desk, waiting for him to finish typing away at his typewriter and acknowledge your presence. You hadn’t made eye contact yet, and it had been eight minutes since you had heard the cold, “Prego, entri pure!” as you’d knocked on his office door.  

Each passing second stacked another brick onto a crumbling tower. How long before it collapses... 

With a ding! of his typewriter finishing his current line, he pushed the cartridge back into place and clasped his hands in front of his face, elbows resting on the surface of his desk. 

“Sorella _____! Mi scusi, some silly paperwork I had to finish. Boring,” he mocked a yawn, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

His tone sounded only mildly flirty, which was quite unusual for him – like it had been forced. You’d never known him not to be flirtatious, but then, you truly didn’t know him all that well... Of all of the Papa’s assistants, you were the one that probably had the least personal connection to the Emeritus clan. Primo enjoyed his assistant’s company, and in his retirement, company was all she truly was these days. And Terzo’s assistant was more like a family friend, brought up as children in the Ministry together.  

But Secondo... he was a cold and bitter man, the most affection he’d ever shown you was offering you an extra day of leave over the Yule period. He was strictly business. Well, except for at Papa Terzo’s ascension ball... He had been blindingly drunk, bitter about his brother taking his role and his own demotion. And he had taken his anger out on you – in his bed.  

It had been thrilling, and you had let him, but the two of you never spoke of that night. Now, you would sometimes catch him looking when he thought you couldn’t see... His eyes wondering over your form, perhaps wishing he could have you in a slightly less brutal way. 

That was neither here nor there these days though – all it meant was you weren’t as friendly with Primo and Terzo as you might like to be, kept at an arms distance due to Secondo’s emotional range of a toilet brush. Talking to Terzo now felt a lot more official, more formal than it could have been. At the end of the day, he was still your Papa.  

“I’m struggling with something, Papa. I wondered if you might have any advice for me...” you began, averting your eyes and looking anywhere around his office but at him. Was that a picture of him with Dave Grohl on his wall...? 

“And my fratello cannot help you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“No, your Eminence. He’s not the most... empathetic man...” 

Terzo hummed in agreement, understanding now why you might have come to him instead of his brother. 

“Very well. What can I help you with, Sorella?” 

You aren’t sure when they started, or how long you had been silent for, but tears streamed from your eyes as you fought back a sob. Terzo panicked – crying women were his kryptonite. His wiles with women were expert of course, but when they cried with emotion in front of him? He felt like a spare part.  

He sat there awkwardly, nudging a box of tissues your way and nodding at it, insisting you take one. He was coming off colder than he would have liked, but truly he was just useless with emotion. That was the product of a childhood void of love – that much you knew from Secondo’s drunken wrath. 

You took a tissue, dabbing your cheeks and blowing your nose. “Forgive me, Papa... I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you apologised. He waved you off as if it were no bother at all, when you knew it bothered him very much. “I just... I feel so lost.” 

“Cara mia, what is causing this?” he soothed. 

“I’ve been here a long time, Papa...” 

“Sixteen years, giusto? (right?)” he interrupted. You were shocked he knew that.  

“Sì, and I've never once received His guidance... I long for it, Papa. I need a path. I feel like I’m just stuck here, like I’m not doing enough, I’m not good enough,” you wailed. 

“Sorella, what nonsense! You are doing a fine job, you worship harder than anyone I’ve seen,” he tried to comfort you, to reassure you but it was no use. 

“Thank you Papa, but it’s not enough. I don’t know where to go from here, how to progress. I don’t know anything of my future or what path I should take here anymore. I’m... I’m starting to wonder if this is truly my home...” 

Terzo sat back in his chair suddenly with a thump. His face betrayed his fight to stay neutral, but he was clearly hurt by what you were saying. Not personally, not at all... He hurt for you.  

“Is there anything I can do to commune with the Dark One? To ask him directly for guidance, Papa?” you begged. If anyone would know, it would be him.  

“Let me... Let me think,” he began, resting his elbows on the arms of his opulent chair and pressing his fingers to his lips in thought. You continued to sob quietly, pressing a clean tissue to your cheeks and sniffling to cut through the silence. He thought for a few moments before he stood abruptly, making his way over to one of the bookcases that lined the back wall of his office.  

Using a tiny stepladder, he was able to reach for a large leather book from the top shelf, bound with a leather the colour of old blood, gold stitching holding it in place.  

“All Hallow’s Eve is coming...” he muttered to himself, holding the large book in one arm and flipping it open with the other. “Perhaps, if we...”  

He wasn’t making sense, but he seemed to be hinting that there could be something to be done...  

“AH!” he yelled, your body reacting to the sudden loud noise. He dropped the book onto the table with a loud SLAM, leaning over the words and translating them for you, making the text easier to digest.  

“There is a ritual... It can only be done once a year. It is extensive, it is intrusive... It will prove devotion to sin like no other...” 

Your ears pricked up – you were willing to try almost anything at this rate. 

“Sorella, this is a very invasive, I’ve never seen it performed before. But if you want His guidance, this should give you a direct route indeed. But I don’t know if you’d be comfortable wi-” 

“I’ll do it,” you said, not a moment of hesitation.  

“Wait...” he held up a hand to stop you, his face stern and frankly concerned at your eagerness without having known what was expected to fulfil such a ritual. “Listen to it first. Decide later.” 

You didn’t see the point, you’d agree to anything. Although you perhaps wouldn’t kill...  

Perhaps.  

“Rituale Septem...” he began... 

“As the Eve of All Hallow’s  approaches with haste,  Septem you shall perform,  to His Dark One’s taste. 

When daily you prove  to Satan, Our King,  His voice you shall hear,  and fortune, shall bring.”  

Well, that was little to no help at all. If anything he’d left you more confused than when you’d walked into his office. 

“Papa, that means nothing to m-” 

“I hadn’t finished,” he deadpanned, not even looking up from the book on his desk. You silenced yourself immediately, feeling like a scolded schoolgirl in the headmaster’s office. “Essentially, Sorella, you have to perform one of the seven deadly sins per day in the run up to All Hallow’s Eve. Except, the part where it says... to his Dark One’s taste...”  

You ran the possibilities over in your head at a mile a minute, skimming over what that meant and overwhelming yourself. Terzo clearly saw the look of confusion plastered on your face mixed with vague despair, and he sighed, seemingly irritated at having to spell it out for you. He plopped himself back into his chair and scooched forward to talk to you again. 

“To put it frankly, you must show your devotion through acts of sexual deviancy. To Lucifer’s taste. You perform these sins with sex,” he was blunt, unemotional – perhaps how a Papa should be when addressing a Sibling. His usual flirtation was missing, his charm absent. You could only imagine your wavering faith had bothered him.  

What you didn’t know, was before your meeting with him, he had been in another. With Sister Imperator. And for the thousandth time, she had accused him of not doing enough for his flock, or for Satan. 

Just because he didn’t get that fucking Grammy. 

That had sullied his mood before he’d even remembered he was due to meet with you today. He’d debated cancelling, but perhaps this was the perfect opportunity, he now realised, to show Sister Imperator that he was a capable Papa. To shut her up, if only for a little while.  

When he explained what you must do, you were ready to give in – to pack up and scuttle off to some cabin in a forest somewhere to live out the remainder of your sad little life. Because who on earth could you ask to do that with? Who on earth would be willing? You didn’t have a partner, or any love interest for that matter. Who would you ask? Secondo? HA! 

“I told you, Sorella, this is invasive. If you’re not comfortable, there are other ways but this is the quickest, the most direct and the only ritual to have a 97% or above success rate.” 

“I... don’t have a partner...” you admitted, staring at your hands in your lap fiddling with the used tissues you’d collected there. “I wouldn’t know who to ask.” 

“My fratello is not to your taste, hm?” he smirked, chuckling darkly, “Once was enough?” 

“Oh, Satan’s Taint, you know about that?!” you whined, slumping back in your chair with a huff. Terzo laughed heartily.  

“Well lucky for you, Sorella, it doesn’t have to be one single person. In fact, it’s more devious if it isn’t, no?” 

You rubbed your hand over your eyes in exhaustion, wanting nothing more than the ground to swallow you whole right now.  

“You know, there are certain... expertise, that I have in the Ministry, cara mia. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I can be quite the Casanova,” he smirked, standing to slowly pace around his desk in order to sit on the edge facing you, folding his arms over his chest. It would seem his flirtatious nature was trickling back in... 

“Is that Italian for man whore?” you quipped. That earned you a belly laugh, a tear escaping the corner of his eye that he wiped away as his laughter ebbed.  

“He was an adventurer, cara. Is it his fault he had an eye for a pretty woman on his travels?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Besides the point; if you would like, I can coach you. Clipboard and pen and all... I could help you perform the sins, give you ideas to do so. After all, how terrible a Papa would I be if I didn’t,” he took a deep breath, speaking through slightly grit teeth as he repeated what Sister Imperator had said to him earlier that day, “guide my flock...”  

“Are you not just trying to bed me, Papa?” you rolled your eyes, defensive. But frankly, whether he was or not, you were considering it. Anything to hear His voice... 

Terzo straightened up, swiping his gloved hands over his waistcoat as he stood. “How dare you,” he mockingly raged, a look of fake indignance painted on his features, “As if I would do such a thing, Sorella!”  

He stepped forwards, placing both his hands on either arm of your chair and leaning in close to you, trapping you beneath him with wide eyes and a heart rate to rival the thrum of a chainsaw. 

“I’m guiding my flock.” 

Next: Day 1 - Lust

Tag list:

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[alexbkrieger13]

Hello! This is a translatorn of the podcast Magda did a while ago. It’s not completely word by word but almost. Feel free to put it in a post and share it with everyone.

Närkampen podcast with Magdalena Eriksson

Interviewer: Welcome Magdalena Eriksson, former Chelsea defender, now Bayern Munich defender and often also national team captain. Welcome to the podcast “Närkampen”. How are you today?

Magda: Thank you. I’m doing good. A bit tired from the match yesterday but otherwise good.

I: Goalscorer again yesterday.

M: Yes (laughs), what’s happening? It’s been special/different for me to score this many goals. I don’t know the last time I scored this many goals. It’s fun.

I: It (the goal scoring) comes from experience and a good forehead on top of that?

Magda: Exactly (laughs). And good deliveries I have to say.

I: In “Närkampen” we start with a warm up where I start a couple of sentences and you will finish them. Are you ready?

M: Yes.

I: I feel my best when I…

M: …Have won a football game and played well.

I: Something I think is important is…

M: …The people around me. To have good people around me both when it comes to football but also privately.

I: For me it can be tough to manage…

M: …Adversity like losses, injuries and bad performances.

I: Some of my biggest inner driving forces are…

M: …I love to win. I love to develop and the feeling of doing something together with people you care about, so winning together with a team and having developed together as a team.

I: For me football means…

M: … It’s my life. I have dedicated my life to football. I live and breathe football every day so it means everything.

I: An event that has had a big impact on my career…

M: … I actually think the season when Emma Hayes made me the captain of Chelsea. I think a lot can be traced back to that one decision she made and it has meant a lot for my career.

I: To perform I need…

M: … To feel good and secure in my own skin. Good confidence. Belief in my own abilities and what I can do.

I: A decision or action I regret is…

M: …I regret very little in my life and career but maybe all those times I won “the yellow card league” when I played in Damallsvenskan in the beginning (laughs).

I: The hardest period of my life was…

M: … I had a tough period where I had been injured and wasn’t confident in my football abilities and I was coming into an Olympics and had pretty much been out injured for 6 weeks leading up to it. I lost myself a little and was doubting myself.

I: Something I aim to achieve is…

M: … To continue my personal development. To work on myself and get better. I know I will never reach what I consider perfection but I always want to find ways to get even more secure in myself and get more out of myself. I don’t know exactly what that is but that is what I strive for.

I: Now the warm up is done. How was it? Did you find any of the questions difficult?

M: It was good. It was difficult to come up with a dark period. I don’t think there has been a specific period in my career that has been especially hard but it goes up and down all the time. That’s what’s so nice about football. You can go from the top to the bottom really fast because of for example an injury or a few bad performances.

I: You left Chelsea pretty recently after many years there and you were also the captain. In my eyes that’s a pretty significant move. How was it?

M: I started to feel in my body and my head that it was soon time for a new challenge. I also started counting down on my “career clock”. I don’t have that many years left. I knew my contract was soon up and felt it was the perfect time to experience something new, to challenge myself, get out of my comfort zone and test my limits and still be able to be on the high level I want it to be. Then to also have a few years to prove myself in the new club. For me this is about challenging myself again and trying something new. A new country and a new type of football.

I: So it was you who actively sought out a new challenge?

M: Yes, I would say that. Of course it’s not that simple and it was a really hard decision to leave Chelsea. I have so many good memories from my time in Chelsea and had so many beautiful years. But I think you develop a lot as a football player and as a person when you try new things and challenge yourself. That’s what it was about for me but it was a hard decision. In hindsight I feel like it has been good for me to try a new country and challenge myself and know that I still can come to a new place and still perform and get into things there pretty quickly.

I: You mentioned that being the Chelsea captain had a big impact on your career. Emma Hayes gave you the armband in 2019 I think. Was the decision to leave harder when you’ve got that responsibility?

M: Yes, I think so. To have the armband means having a bigger responsibility and a bigger role in the team. You’re expected to communicate a lot with the coach and are given other official responsibilities from the club. I don’t know if it was because I was in Chelsea for a long time or because of the captaincy but I became extremely close with the fans and the club in itself. The club is doing a lot of cool things and has done a lot for the development of women’s football both in England and the world. There are many things that make me feel strongly connected to Chelsea and that made the decision to leave harder of course. At the same time I was completely convinced the club would do well without me (laughs) and I knew there were many leaders in the team to take over when I left.

I: Now you’re with Bayern Munich. You won yesterday and scored a goal. What is it about a new city and a new club that makes you develop? I mean since you’re already pretty experienced.

M: I’ve been in football for a long time now. I was in Chelsea for 6 years. I don’t like feeling like I’m stagnating or getting too comfortable. It didn’t feel like that in Chelsea though because new things happened every season and the league improved a lot. But it is something about the idea of being taken away from what you know and being put somewhere new where you have to find strategies for how to act in the beginning to fit in as quickly as possible. I had a 1,5 week preseason and then the season started. I had to perform right away and adapt to a new team, new coach, new voice, new playing system. You learn a lot about yourself. You learn what you need to improve to adapt even better. Then when you’ve come out at the other end you feel really strong and have a boosted confidence. That’s how I felt when I went from Linköping to Chelsea and I feel the same way now that I’ve gone from Chelsea to Bayern.

I: You said before that the clock is ticking. Where are you in your career right now?

M: I’m extremely aware that my days are numbered (laughs). That sounds dramatic. We, or I signed a three year contract with Bayern. Now I’ve almost finished one year of that contract. I will be 33-34 when that contract ends and then I guess I will evaluate my situation then. It’s a new situation to feel that the end of a contract could mean the end of my career - but it doesn’t have to. It could, but it all depends on your motivation, how your body feels and what possibilities you have. So it’s a new situation. I think these thoughts started when I turned 30.

I: Do you mean sort of like a 30-year crisis?

M: (Laughs). Yes, a little bit. Unfortunately you can’t keep on playing forever even though I would have really liked to. Now it’s about evaluating my motivation and my body year by year and see how long I want to continue. I’m actually also excited about my career after football. It doesn’t feel scary, it feels exciting.

I: I’ve talked to other players who don’t want to think about their careers coming to an end. But it seems like you have thought about it a lot. How does that affect you?

M: I’m a planner. I want to have a plan. I know I have 3 years here and then potentially a few more years, we‘ll see. Then when my football career ends I want a plan for what I want to do. If I didn’t have a plan for that I would be stressed out and start to panic. I have decided I want to continue to work in football in some way. I am motivated to have a new role and go from being a player to become a coach or work in an organization in some way. It feels fun but of course also a little bit scary and a little bit sad. I still have a few more years left to enjoy.

I: Nadine Kessler quit playing football pretty early and now she’s leading the section for women’s football in UEFA. Would you want to do something like that?

M: I have no idea. As I said I’m 100 % sure I will stay in football but in what role will probably be decided after my football career. I think I will need to try different roles. I’m also really interested in coaching. I think we need more women’s coaches in women’s football and more coaches with experience from their own playing careers so that is inspiring. It also sounds inspiring to work in an organization or have a bigger role in developing women’s football. I’m open to suggestions.

I: How can you be so sure you want to continue to work within football?

M: This is what I know. I’m interested in a lot of things and could probably become something else but I think football is so incredibly fun. My love for football has been a constant through my entire career. No matter how I’ve been doing and what I’ve been feeling I’ve always loved football and that has been one of my biggest driving forces. I also like to watch all types of football and analyze a lot so I feel like this is what I know and want to continue to do.

I: You talk about becoming a coach or working in an organization and something I associate strongly with you is leadership. Where do your leadership qualities come from?

M: I don’t know. My dad was my coach when I was between 6 and 13 years old, very formative years. He likes to educate and has strong values and morals for how to behave in a team and to help others. So I think i have him to thank for a lot of it. He always talked about treating others the way you yourself want to be treated and leading by example. These have always been his core values and I think among what’s most important as a leader: To see everyone and put yourself in their shoes but also make sure you yourself do what you ask of others.

I: How is Magdalena Eriksson as a leader?

M: I take a lot of responsibility for my own performance. I have high expectations on myself and try to be as accurate as I can when I play and have a high lowest level. I also expect a lot from my environment and try to constantly think about things we can do better or develop. Then also the human perspective which I feel is the part I have developed the most in my leadership from being captain in Linköping to being captain in Chelsea. As captain in Chelsea I understood that we have a team of pretty much 23 national team players and 11 of them train their asses off but don’t get a lot of playing time but you want them to understand how important they are to the team. I developed that part of my leadership in Chelsea - to see that everyone in a team is equally important and everyone plays a part in the team so that we in the end lift the trophy in may. That’s become really important to me: To make everyone in a team feel valuable.

I: Are there any parts of your leadership you want to continue to develop?

M: I think it’s about never getting too comfortable. Let’s say we play well with Bayern and win. We shouldn’t be satisfied with that but instead always try to find areas to develop both for myself and also for example the cooperation within the back line and with the goalkeeper. Also how the team as a whole can take a new step. The motivation for that goes up and down depending on how tired I am mentally.

I: How quickly did you get a natural role as a leader in Bayern Munich? Was it the first day or did it take a while?

M: Haha no it takes a while and for me it’s important that it happens naturally. It’s also important to me to build relationships before I come in and say “We used to do it like this in Chelsea or I think we should do it like this”. In the beginning in Bayern Munich I just wanted to be like a sponge and learn how things work here and what the routines look like. We have a fantastic captains group of 3 players I look up to a lot and they are doing a great job. It’s been about finding my role and what I can contribute with. It’s happened naturally step by step and now I feel like I have a great role that I’m happy with. I have good contact with Glodis who is our captain and she is an amazing person and has a lot of similar values as I have. I also have good communication with our coach Alex who is an extremely ambitious coach and always wants us to get better and is never satisfied. So it feels like I’ve found a good role.

I: In the national team you’re also sometimes captain. You’re one of several captains. How do you see yourself as a leader in the national team?

It’s a bit different in a national team. You are together for 10 days and then you part ways. You don’t have as much time… It’s not a process in the same way as it is in a club where you can work together week in, week out on specific details. In the national team it’s more like we are together for 10 days and we have to perform right away. How do we do that in most optimal way? I just try to be the same person as I am in the club but my role in the national team has grown over the years. Now I’m one of the most experienced senior players and that means I try to take even more responsibility and help guide the new young players. That’s something I’ve started thinking about more actively during the last few years - to take on an even bigger role. We had a lot of older players in the national team when I was new and they took on that role but when they leave, other people have to fill those roles.

I: I’ve heard many times that there is a great atmosphere in the Swedish national team and that that’s a big reason for your success. Could there be a contradiction between the friendly atmosphere and the high demands that’s needed to compete with the best in the world?

M: We have actually talked about that. We have a sports psychologist, Rasmus who comes with us to every camp. We sometimes talk about how having too friendly of an atmosphere can cause you to feel uncomfortable when you have to tell someone off. For me I think you can have a good atmosphere, treat each other with respect and have a good time together outside the pitch. We can keep that but on the pitch there has to be an extremely high ceiling. I like environments where I can yell and tell people off on the football pitch and know that the girls know I mean well and just want us to get better. I can even have had discussion with someone on the pitch and then know we’ll leave that conversation on the pitch. This is one of the things we’ve pointed out as things to improve: to get even better at telling each other off and holding each other accountable. I think we’re working on it and it’s getting better but of course I understand that now when we have lot of new younger players they can’t be expected to come in and be demanding right away. But it’s something we’re working on.

I: There were a few headlines after the last national team camp. Kosovare Asllani said that Rosa Kafaji has to work on her defensive abilities. Is that to have high demands and being a good leader according to you?

M: The funny thing is that I don’t read media so this is completely new to me. I don’t know exactly what has been said so I can’t comment on this specific situation. But I think that’s the kind of dialogue you have to have within a team. Kosse has played for the national team for a very long time and has a lot of experience. Rosa has come in now and is an amazing and exciting player but she should of course have Kosse as her mentor and listen to what she has to say. In the same way I can help the younger upcoming center backs and share my experience with them. What is and isn’t being said to media is another topic but it is really important that us older players are mentors to the younger players. It’s also important that the younger players see us as mentors and value our experience and knowledge.

I: I think it’s pretty natural that the older players lead the younger players. Some of you have played together for such a long time. How are you with each other, you and Kosse for example? Can you lead each other?

M: Absolutely. Me and Kosse are extremely different as people and I think we are a good mix. Kosse leads a lot with her playing style and has a high belief in herself. She is outspoken and just generally a cool person. I’m really reflective and I maybe don’t have the same self-confidence that Kosse has but I have grown from experience and the trust I’ve gotten from Peter. Together I think we can see the entire group and work together in our leadership.

I: Is that really true about your self-confidence? When I’ve talked to you over the years I’ve gotten the impression that you have a really good self-confidence?

M: That’s maybe what I exude but it has taken a lot of time for me to feel like I deserve to play on the highest level and to feel like I’m good enough to play on the highest level. For me that self-confidence has come after I got to this level. It wasn’t there from the beginning. I have always been a bit shocked that I have reached this level. I might exude more confidence than I’ve actually got but it has been something I’ve had to work on a lot during my career and I still have to work on it a lot.

I: I’ve heard you say before that when you were young there were bigger talents than you but that your biggest talent maybe is the will to develop. How has that impacted you, having to work so hard for a long time?

M: I think that’s a reason why I maybe don’t have that inner self-confidence. I am really hard on myself and have always been. I have become a lot nicer to myself over the years. When I was younger and made one mistake that lead to goal I could go home and cry the entire evening and feel like “Now it’s over, this is the end”. I took adversities extremely hard. I’ve really had to work on that a lot. I am a perfectionist, want so much and want to develop all the time but that can go too far. It was like that when I was younger at least. Now it’s a lot better. I feel more secure and confident in myself. Of course this can come from not being perceived as the biggest talent even though I of course was a big talent and an important player for Enskede where I grew up. But it has taken time to build up my belief in myself.

I: You also take a stand and say your opinion about important topics? Where does that come from?

M: I think a lot can be traced back to my upbringing in general. My dad has such a strong integrity and has passed that on to me and my sister. He thinks it’s important to stand up for what you believe in. He has told me many times during my career and now that he thinks it’s awesome that I dare to speak out about what I believe in. So I think it’s come from him and has become a main value to me.

I: We live in a complicated world and you as a role model is asked to take a stand on heavy topics. How do you decide whether you speak out about something or don’t?

M: There hasn’t been any strategy behind that. Us women’s football players are often asked these heavier questions from media and we aren’t forced to take a stand but we have the possibility to do so. It’s a choice for every individual person how much you want to say and if you want to take a stand. The possibility to do so have been offered quite a lot over the years because we are who we are and we get a lot of questions. There hasn’t been any strategy from my side. I have my main topics that I’m really passionate about and if get questions about those I will say my opinion about it. I know where I stand and I know what the point I’m trying to get across is. Then how media decides to spin it and what headlines they choose are out my control. But I’m sure about my values and what my message was so it mostly feels okay. Sometimes it’s feels unfair that people have extremely high expectations on you and it feels like they misunderstand. Mostly I feel like I’ve been proud that I’ve dared to speak my mind.

I: Let’s switch back to the national team. You’re in a pretty difficult group (for the euro qualifiers). What do you think about that challenge?

M: Yes, it feels like we pretty much got the most difficult team from every pot. The matches are inspiring and cool, but also tough. We’re very aware that our road to the euros will be tough. The next camp against Ireland will be incredibly important, especially when we take the loss to France into consideration. We have to prove that we can win these type of matches that we have to win.

I: You’ve had a lot of success in the last international tournaments. There have been discussions about getting medals and that gold medal that’s missing. What do you think about this, looking back?

M: It would be easy to sit here and dwell on an Olympic final or a loss in a World Cup semifinal. But I know that in every tournament we’ve played I feel sure we’ve done everything we can to reach as far as possible. That resulted in Olympic silver and World Cup bronze. In my world we couldn’t have done more than what we did. That’s how it is in football: You do the best you can and then you’ll see how far that gets you. In the last tournaments it has resulted in Olympic silver and World Cup bronze but I’m incredibly proud of those achievements. Mostly because of the way we have done it: How we have treated each other and done everything as a team and worked together during these tournaments. Also generally how we work in the national team. We push each other to get better all the time and have created that culture in the national team. I don’t regret anything but I wouldn’t say no to a gold medal. I still think two World Cup bronze medals and two Olympic silver medals are big achievements.

I: There are future international tournaments. You have those medals from before and you have a team with both leaders and good football players. How do you and the team see the future championships?

M: In football we have such an extremely shortsighted perspective so until now the focus was on the Olympic qualifiers. We didn’t reach the Olympics and now all my focus is on the euro qualifiers. After we’re done with the qualifiers I will start to think about the euros and our possibilities there. But if I just speculate I think it’s really exciting to have the younger generation currently coming into the national team. They are already playing football on a really high level and can become even better. At the same time we still have the 93-generation and 96/97-generation who are also really good. So I think there is still a lot of hope for the national team and the future of the national team.

I: How good is this national team if you compare it to others (earlier versions)?

M: Again really difficult to answer because I have changed so much so it’s hard to compare. I think we have an extremely homogeneous national team right now since there are many technical and physically strong players. So I think we have the quality to play the kind of football that Peter wants us to play. It’s really cool that there is quality in all positions. There is also quality players in every position that aren’t starting and they are always ready. So we have big possibilities and that feels great.

I: In the “warm up” you talked about what you need to perform. You said family is important. In what way is family important?

M: Good energy. Pernille is incredibly important when it comes to that. She and I have grown together since we were 20 years old in Linköping. We were both really fresh, especially me with my not so great confidence. We have worked on ourselves and now 10 years later we’re here and have gone through everything together in a way. Her support has made me extremely strong and it still strengthens me a lot. Also my family, friends and teammates: It’s really important to be around good people.

I: Pernille Harder also plays for Bayern Munich now. Was it a sure thing that you would go there together?

M: Not a sure thing but we have come to a point in our careers where we know that’s how we can best perform. We were in a different stage when Pernille left for Wolfsburg and I left for Chelsea. Back then we had to go for what was available for each of us. We were in different stages of our careers. Then we ended up in Chelsea together and felt like being on the same team is how we get the most out of ourselves. If it hadn’t been possible for us both to go to Bayern Munich or somewhere else we of course wouldn’t have chosen a worse alternative just to be able to be together. But we thought Bayern Munich was the perfect alternative because they needed reinforcement both in the back and at the front and is still one of the best teams in Europe so it felt perfect.

I: You support each other and you both play on the highest level. You said before that your career can be over in a few years. Will you make the decision to quit together or will you make different decisions on when to end your careers? I think football players generally make the decision to end their career in very different ways.

M: I think that will be a very individual decision. It will also depend on a lot of different things. For me it will be about whether I have motivation, think it’s fun and how my body feels. Those three things are probably the most important questions I will start asking myself when I feel like my career is coming to an end. Now I still feel like my motivation is high and my body feels good after an injury. But those are the things I will evaluate and Pernille will have different questions to ask herself. So we’ll see. It will be completely individual I think.

I: Your former coach Emma Hayes said that (romantic) relationships between players in a team are problematic. Now she has apparently taken it back. What did you think when you heard that?

M: My first reaction was that I was really shocked that she had said that. I also said this when I got this question before: We have never experienced any problems with Emma and we have worked together, me, Pernille and Emma for three years and me and Emma for six years. You can of course have issues with individuals in a team and if individuals handle things in an unprofessional way it’s something completely different.

I: How did you feel when you heard about Marika Domanski Lyfors?

M: It’s awful. She means so much to our national team. She’s always been there ever since I came into the national team. She’s always been a part of Swedish women’s football. Now she’ll have to go through something really tough and it’s important to us to show her that we’re there for her and that she’s not alone. It was terrible news to get and you wish you could be there for her physically. It’s important that we support her through it.

I: How do you support each other in a national team since you live in different places all over the world?

M: It’s about always having a constant connection. You can always call or send a text. There are many ways to support someone who goes through something hard. I sent her at text and wished her luck and let her know we’re there for her and think about her all the time. The entire national team has probably done the same thing so I hope it gives Marika strength.

I: What’s Magdalena Eriksson’s short term goal right now?

M: To win the league and the cup. To get through the nations league in the best possible way but mostly to win the next two matches against Ireland.

I: I’m so curious about the future. I you could guess now, what role will you have in ten years?

M: I believe in growing with experience. That’s what I’ve been doing my entire career. I won’t end my career and then right away think I’m ready to be the head coach of Chelsea. That’s not how I work. I think I will want to start as an assistant coach somewhere or to coach a youth team. I want to get a lot of experience and see if the coaching job is as fun as I expect it to be. But also to get a lot of experience and training in actually being a coach. You know this better than anyone but I think it’s a lot more difficult than us players think. So assistant coach somewhere, nothing super flashy or glamorous. That’s how I think things will turn out.

I: What about in 20 years? What team will you be coaching then?

M: Then the entire world is open. I could definitely imagine becoming the coach of Chelsea, Bayern Munich or the Swedish national team. That’s how I am as I person. If I go for something I want to do it 100% and will want to become the best coach. I have no idea whether I have a talent for it or not so that remains to be seen.

I: The Chelsea job is actually free right now. If they called and needed an assistant coach, would you go for it?

M: No, that’s absolutely not where my mindset or career is right now but maybe in 10 years.

I: This was a “närkamp” (duel) and you’re good at that on the football pitch. I don’t know what you think about this “närkamp” (duel)?

M: Very good.

I: Very good. Thank you so much for sharing, it’s very appreciated.

M: Thank you.

omg you are a star

[akookminsupporter]

I think the sleep deprivation I had a few hours ago didn't let me appreciate Jungkook's cameo (someone commented in one of my posts that it was a cameo and I loved it jaajaj) in Jimin's Wlive properly but now, after having watched the video more carefully, I have some comments to make:

1, I've said this several times but really the way Jimin's face lit up when he saw Jungkook was there was priceless. I don't know if it was my imagination or my phone but his face even seemed to turn red.

2. It's endearing the way Jimin genuinely gets shy whether other members see his work or not, that's not right, he gets shy to see the other members see his work or not, that's not right, he gets shy seeing the other Members appreciating/watching/listening to his work. And I think that's what happened today and why he almost immediately said to Jungkook: bye. It's the same reaction he had when he saw Hobi's comment and understood that he was watching the Wlive and therefore the documentary as well.

3. I know we have already said it several times, but it's funny how they don't flinch when one of them gets too close to the other, for example today when Jungkook approached Jimin's microphone, Jimin didn't move his head to avoid such proximity, he did the opposite! he lowered his head to see what Jungkook was doing? The same when Jimin stretched out his arm to touch Jungkook, Jungkook immediately moved closer for Jimin to touch him and when Jimin decided to touch his chest, he didn't even flinch.

4. This is something I think we're all familiar with Jikook so I don't think it's something new but it's funny how awkward they can get when they're together. nervous, not knowing what to say almost and giggling all over the place. Always giggling all over the place. And that's not a negative thing, it doesn't mean they're not close or that they don't get along quite the opposite! and that's what makes it funny. And that's why they can't do Wlives together. We have plenty of evidence and zero doubt about it.

5. It was cute how Jimin kept an eye on Jungkook until he finally left, he followed him with a little smile on his face. Although he might not want Jungkook to stay and watch the documentary with him out of shyness, he was genuinely happy that Jungkook had come.

6. Lastly, I love how Jungkook is always supporting Jimin in his projects. Obviously, he supports all the members but it is clear that he has paid special attention to Jimin's projects. He said he just finished rehearsing and was leaving but he still stopped by to watch Jimin do his Wlive. That's too cute.

Those two minutes of them together made me wish even more for a Wlive of them but at the same time, I don't know if I could handle a Wlive of the two of them together. After all, during those two minutes, I kept smiling, to the point that I couldn't see anything because my eyes are small like Jimin's and because I didn't know if I should see all that. I don't know if it happens to you, but I get shy when those two are alone in front of the camera.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

What Can Still Be Known

A/N: This is my submission for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge... which I meant to have finished weeks ago, but since it's May the 4th, today seems like a good time to post it even if it is later than I originally planned. Thank you so much to Gin for putting this together! I love music prompts, so this was right up my alley. I can't wait to catch up on the other stories written for this event! Make sure you all go check them out, too! You can find them here.

Prompt: My song was Butchered Tongue from the album Unreal, Unearth, and my character was Din. I was delighted to get this prompt, because that song speaks to my soul. It's melancholic and beautiful, and I think it fits Din so damn well, so I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: angst, mentions of canon typical violence, mention of death of parents/family, you know, Mandalorian stuff.

Word Count: 3,545 (oops.)

Summary: Din doesn't remember much about his parents or his life with them... but that doesn't stop him from wishing it were different.

Nevarro’s sun burned bright and hot as Din crossed the scrubby stretch of flatlands that separated the town from the Mandalorian encampment. Shifting the crate he carried under one arm, he tilted his head down to where Grogu hopped along beside him, using the Force to propel himself every few steps to accommodate for his father’s much longer stride. The sight, along with the string of happy gurgles and babbles spilling from the kid’s mouth, made a smile sprout beneath the man’s helmet. 

“It’s good to be back, isn’t it buddy?” 

Grogu looked up at him and squealed happily, nodding and pointing one clawed finger at the semi-permanent settlement growing closer with every step they took. 

Though the efforts to reclaim their homeworld had been successful, a small group of Mandalorians remained on Nevarro during the rebuilding process on Mandalore - mainly those responsible for teaching and raising the foundlings and other young children that were not yet ready to start their trials. There were two combat instructors, two teachers whose focus was on the tenants of the Resol’nare, one additional teacher who was responsible for teaching Mando’a, as well as a dozen or so students and their guardians. Eventually they’d all join the rest of their people on Mandalore, but until things were more solidly settled there, Nevarro was as safe an option for an outpost as could be found in the Outer Rim. 

Din chuckled. “I’m sure your friends will be happy to see you again, too.” 

That response sent the kid bouncing with excitement, hopping high enough so that he could fit in a flip before touching down again, the rondel and small pauldron he wore clinging together like chimes with his motion. 

“Go ahead,” Din urged him, jutting his chin out in front of him. “You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll be right behind -” But the child was gone before the last word left his lips. He sighed and shook his head in amusement. “-You.” He watched through the tinted screen of his visor as Grogu darted towards the sparring grounds, no doubt in search of Ragnar.  

It had been a few months since they’d been back on Nevarro, Din busy taking Grogu through his apprenticeship, teaching him skills that he would need in order to move on in his training. Tracking, hunting, navigation, survival, negotiation, just to name a few. Every lesson took them to a different planet, some of them coming with the added bonus of coinciding with a bounty or paid favor. The most recent one, a lesson in tracking on Rodia, had resulted in uncovering a stash of beskar ingots that had been defaced with an Imperial stamp. 

Immediately after finishing up on Rodia - Din showing Grogu how to incapacitate an enemy without killing them - they’d taken the recovered beskar back to the Armorer on Mandalore, so that she could fashion it into new pieces for the foundlings. It was strange, but good, to see the glass encrusted planet so teeming with life. It was a relief to know that what his people had fought for for so long, what so many had given their lives for, was finally secure. Finally theirs. 

But despite the fact that the Mandalorian people finally had a safe place to call home, Din had yet to feel that sort of connection with the planet. Unlike Bo-Katan, he hadn’t been born there, nor had he spent any time there as a child. He’d heard stories about what the Great Forge had been like in its glory, how lush the gardens of Sundari had been long ago. But to him, a foundling Child of the Watch who had never set foot on Mandalore until he was a grown man, they’d always felt like stories about some fictional, far off place. He wondered if that would change, if he would ever feel at home in a place that brought him no nostalgia or warmth. 

A part of him hoped that it would. Because it wasn’t just Mandalore that he felt that absence of connection to. It was everywhere he went. A side-effect of losing every home he’d ever had, it turned out, was not knowing where your roots would grow if they could grow anywhere they chose. 

He knew he had a home once. A true home, one where he could have collected a whole life’s worth of memories, enough of them so that when he returned there they’d all come rushing to fill his heart with warmth and welcome. He knew he had a family before the Tribe had become that for him, too. A mother and father who loved him so fiercely that they sacrificed their own lives to save his. When he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could still find their faces. His father’s was easier to recall because he himself wore so many of the same features. Every time he saw his own reflection he was reminded of the man who carried him through the battlefield that their village had become. 

His mother’s face was more difficult to recall in detail, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten her. He remembered her thick, dark hair and the way it curled at her shoulders. He remembered the texture of the red robes she wore, remembered tracing the intricate pattern of woven stitching on the cuffs of her sleeves with the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t be sure, but he had the thought that he must have remembered these things because she was the one who comforted him when he was hurt, sad or scared. That what he really recalled when he thought of his mother was the feeling of safety and warmth that her embrace provided. 

He remembered the tone of her voice, soothing but strong. His father’s was full and confident and always sounded like a smile was about to appear. He remembered that the two of them sang often. Sometimes he’d be hit with a snippet of a melody, the lyrics lost, turned to dust and ash like the rest of his homeworld, but he’d find himself humming and realize that it was one of the songs his parents used to sing. 

The forgotten lyrics were only a small part of a larger loss, though. They were written in a language that had died when the population of Aq Vetina had been snuffed out. So he could remember his parents’ voices. He could remember the melodies they sang. But the things they said, the words they used, the meaning behind them? All of that was gone. For all the languages and means of communication he did know, the first one he’d ever heard and learned escaped him. And in all of his travels since leaving his homeworld in the arms of an armored stranger that had become his Buir, Din had never met anyone who spoke his native tongue. 

It made him wonder if anyone else had survived the attack on his home that day, or if he was the last living member of a completely slain culture. 

Before he could ruminate on that thought for too long, though, Azil, one of the combat instructors, saw him walking towards the sparring grounds and waved him over. “Olarom, Djarin!” He pointed at the crate Din carried, tilting his helmeted-head in question. “Gifts from home?” 

The contents of the box shifted as Din handed it over, newly cast cuiresses ringing together in answer to Azil’s inquiry. “New beskar,” Din responded with a nod. “Freshly forged on Mandalore,” he added in answer to Azil’s question about where it came from. “I was told to deliver them to you for distribution to your students.” 

Azil set the crate down and clapped one gloved hand to Din’s shoulder. “Vor entye, vod.” 

Returning the gesture, Din did the same. “This is the Way.” 

“This is the Way,” Azil echoed, and then immediately set about unpacking the box of armor, sorting it by size, leaving Din to see where Grogu had gone. 

It didn’t take long for him to find his son. The long, green ears were a giveaway, sure. But so was the small crowd of other children gathered around to watch him levitate a black chunk of volcanic rock while Ragnar Vizsla practiced blasting it with training darts. With each successful hit, the other kids would cheer, a collective sound of amazement coming from them each time Grogu managed to evade the blast by redirecting the rock. 

Din stood watching for a few moments, silently appreciative that these children had this opportunity to laugh and learn and grow together somewhere open and safe and free. He could remember playing similar training games and showing off new skills with the few other children in his covert, though then it was all done underground, in hiding. But he couldn’t recall the kinds of games he might have played with friends in his village. If there were any nursery rhymes or tall tales he might have known once, they’d long since faded from his memory. 

It made him wonder if he’d eventually forget what little he could remember about his native culture. Would he lose it piece by piece? Until not even a familiar tune or the color red or his own reflection sparked any feeling? He hoped not, but it seemed inevitable. 

At least, it had. 

Suddenly - from a different group of children than the one gathered around Grogu, much to Din’s relief - a small child went darting by his boots, arms outstretched in front of her, the distinct sound of sniffles and cries trailing after her. Turning away from the training grounds, he watched as the child was scooped up by a woman who had just stepped out of one of the tents. He assumed that whatever sent the girl running was just the result of one of the other kids being a little too rough. Or perhaps one of Nevarro’s reptilian species had frightened the child. Either way, it was clear that there was no real danger and that the woman had things under control, so he started to turn back towards Grogu and Ragnar’s shenanigans. 

But then he overheard the woman begin to soothe the young girl in her arms. 

“Ny mo yariin, necta.” 

It stopped him in his tracks and sent his head swiveling back in the direction it came from. His heart pounded beneath the elongated diamond stamped into the center of his chestplate as he felt something unlock in his memory. 

He’d heard those same words before. So long ago that he was stunned when he recognized the phrase. So long ago that the meaning behind them was lost. But he knew they were spoken to him as comfort. He knew that they were words steeped in love. He watched the way the woman cradled the child to her armored chest, his eyes catching on the piece of red fabric that was pinned to the cowl of her flight suit. 

No matter how impossible it seemed that the words he’d just heard had survived what a whole settlement of people hadn’t, no matter how unlikely it was that it was there of all places that he’d heard it, no matter how slim the odds were that the tattered scarlet linen was the same fabric that he remembered from his home, Din found himself drawn to her. 

To you. 

—  —  — 

You were rewiring the com device in your helmet when you heard Tira’s cry. 

Though you knew that she was probably fine - there were dozens of other Mandalorian adults present in the settlement, and you knew that none of them would allow any real harm to come to the children - you immediately set your work down and stepped outside, senses heightened. But as soon as you saw her running towards you, you relaxed. She wasn’t hurt or being chased. She’d likely just been knocked over by one of the bigger kids while they played one of their games. Tira was small, but didn’t like to be told that. And since her older brother had begun his trials and wasn’t there as often to make sure she didn’t get pushed around by the others, she’d been having trouble adjusting. 

It didn’t help that less than a year ago, she and Maj had lost both of their parents in the battle to retake Mandalore, which is how the children had come to be in your care. 

As a former foundling yourself, you were more than willing to step in and raise them as your own, just as the Mandalorian who rescued you the day your village was attacked and your parents were killed would have done had he not been able to reunite you with your kin. You’d been brought to Corellia, where your mother’s sister lived with her family, and they’d taken you in and raised you instead. It wasn’t until you became an adult that you rejoined the Mandalorians and took the Creed, choosing to commit your life to the very people who had saved it. 

But though you mainly spoke Galactic Basic and were muddling your way through learning Mando’a, it was still your first language that came to you when you scooped a sniffling Tira into your arms and cradled her to your armored chest. It was still the words your parents - and then your aunt - had spoken to you when you’d been hurt or scared that you used to comfort the girl. 

“Ny mo yariin, necta.” 

You’re safe with me, sweet one.

You knew Tira and Maj didn’t speak Aquitto. They only knew the meaning of that one phrase because you’d taught it to them. And since your aunt had passed away, you knew that you were possibly the only person left in the galaxy who would even recognize it let alone speak it. As far as you knew, there hadn’t been any other survivors from your village that day. It struck you that every time you spoke it could be the last time it was ever uttered. 

Pushing that thought from your mind, you focused on Tira, kissing her cheek and letting her clutch at the sculpted pin that held a piece of red fabric - a remnant of the hooded robe you’d been wearing the day you were rescued on Aq Vetina - in place on your cowl. The pin had belonged to your mother, the woman pressing it into your hand before disappearing to go try to fight off the monstrous machines with the rest of the village. As a child you would trace the design on it with your fingertip whenever she held you, whenever she made the same promise you were making Tira. 

“Ny mo yariin, necta.” 

By the time you’d said it a second time, the girl had stopped crying. The words themselves weren’t magic, but the sentiment in them was. Even if they were the last scraps of the Aquitto language to live on, you hoped that one day Tira or Maj would pass them along to a child who needed to hear them, too.

Whatever had brought on the sudden storm of tears had passed, and Tira wriggled in your hold as she caught sight of some of the other children watching as the Jedi foundling levitated chunky rocks for Ragnar to blast with darts. You chuckled at her eagerness to get back out there with the big kids. “Okay, necta. But watch out for yourself, got it?” You set her back on the ground, stooping down to her level and ruffling her hair. “I know you’re a tough one, but you still have to be careful.” 

She nodded enthusiastically, telling you that she would be, and then she was gone, scurrying back across the crusty flatland towards the other kids. When you stood back up, you were met with the dark visor of Din Djarin - a man you’d never personally met, but who you’d heard a great deal about from the others in the settlement on Nevarro. You knew he was the Jedi foundling’s adoptive father. You knew he had previously wielded the Darksaber and that he was instrumental in helping Bo-Katan Kryze and the others take back Mandalore. You knew that he was responsible for reclaiming the beskar that your armor had been forged from. 

– – – 

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him, a small laugh in your voice that he figured was a result of the way he’d caught you off guard. You lifted a hand and reflexively tucked the piece of red fabric at your collar into place. “It’s Din, right?”

“Yes. Din Djarin. I’m sorry I don’t know your name, I-” 

You waved him off and introduced yourself. Smiling, you pointed in the direction that the little one you’d just set down had run off in. “That’s your son over there, isn’t it? Tira was excited to see him.” 

Din turned his head to follow your finger, though he didn’t need to look to know that you were indicating Grogu. “It is,” he confirmed, facing you again with a small shrug. “He likes to show off.” 

You laughed at that. “I would too, if I could do what he can.” 

“He’s a special kid,” Din replied, and you smiled again. 

“He is.” You nodded, and it was clear to him that you were still unsure of why he had approached you. “Is there-”

“Can I ask you something?” He tilted his head, hidden eyes fixed on the fabric at your neck - and on the sculpted pin that held it in place, the designs so familiar to him he could feel them on his fingers. 

You furrowed your brow, expression turning serious. “Of course. Not sure if I’ll be able to help you with it, but-” You held your hands up, palms to the sky. “Ask away.” 

“The words you just spoke to that little girl… Tira?” You nodded so he went on. “How do you know that language?” 

He watched your eyes widen with your blink. “You… You’re familiar with Aquitto?” 

Din sighed, giving a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t even remember what it was called, but… Yes. Or, that phrase, anyway. How do you know it?”

You let out a breath. “I… I was born on Aq Vetina. It was the language my parents spoke. It…” Again your fingers came up to the pin and the fabric that it secured. “It was my first language. I was lucky that my aunt knew it, too, or else I would have forgotten it completely after our village was destroyed and-” Something dawned on you and your eyes widened again. “You said you were familiar with it?” He nodded. “How?” 

You asked the question in a way that made him think you already knew the answer, but you needed - or wanted - to hear him say it. So he did. “Same as you. I was born there. It was my parents’ language. But I haven’t heard it spoken since the day droids raided our home.” He blinked, somewhat stunned that only moments before he had been mourning the loss of his native language and culture only to find a source of it right in front of him. “I didn’t know there were other survivors.” 

Your mouth fell open slightly as you stared up into the visor that hid his eyes from view. When you spoke again it was quiet, your words equally full of disbelief. “Neither did I.” Your lips twitched into a small smile despite the way your eyes had started to water. “I’m glad we were both wrong, Din.” 

“I am, too.” He felt a tightening in his chest, but it was unlike anything he felt before. It wasn’t from sorrow or anxiety, it wasn’t to alert him to a threat or caused by regret. It felt more like a connection forming - like meeting you had brought him closer to his own heart somehow. Instantly, a thousand questions popped into his mind for you, and he imagined you might have had some for him as well. But there was one thing he needed to know first. “Can you tell me what it means? What you said to Tira? My… I think my parents used to say it to me, and…” He trailed off, waiting for your response. 

“It means, ‘You’re safe with me, sweet one.’” You smiled again. “It literally translates to ‘You’re in my heart’ though. It’s… It’s what you say to the people you love most.” 

Just then, Grogu and Tira came tearing over, Din bending down to pick up his son and you settling your hand on the little girl’s head as she clung to your side. “Hey, Buddy. Remember when I told you about my parents and what I remembered about where I came from?” 

“Patu.” His head moved up and down, ears flapping with his nod. 

“Well, this lady comes from the same place that I do, and she just taught me how to say something in my old language. You wanna hear it?” 

“Patu!” He spread his clawed fingers over Din’s chestplate. 

Din looked over at you - at the warm smile on your face as you smoothed the little girl’s play-ruffled hair and gave him an encouraging nod - and then back down at Grogu. “Ny mo yariin, necta.” 

.

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist for this or any of my stories, please feel free to let me know in an ask or message, or you can fill out the form on my masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor ​ @pheedraws​ @beautifuldesastre​ @alraedesigns @valkblue

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@nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth

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@jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharinee @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle

@severin-proud @vickie5446 @jessthebaker @ael_xander

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter Eleven

chapter warnings: NSFW!! half of this chapter is basically just smut lmao

apologies for the short chapter! the next few are pretty long so that'll make up for it :) once again a smut warning comes with a warning that i simply can't reread my own smut haha, so please ignore any mistakes!! happy monday :)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You were left utterly speechless, you didn’t have anything to say to that and before you even had time to think of something to say back, he had taken his drinks and left. As much as you wanted to play along with whatever game he's playing, you couldn't deny that you felt guilty. You were hurting, and so was he, but you didn't know what to do to fix it.

As you walked back with all the drinks, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as Caitlin laughed at something Vinny said, acting like it was the funniest thing in the world. 

“After we finish our drinks,” you whisper to Noah as you sit back down beside him, “Why don’t we go back to the hotel? I’ll say I feel tired and you could say you’ve got a call you need to take…”

“They’ll still be suspicious,” he says, “Let's just wait until we’re done here, okay? We've got nothing else on for the rest of the day, it'll be just you and me. All night.” He smiles, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh, sending shivers through your body, but you nod your head. 

“It’s Bryan’s turn!” Nicholas cheered, turning his camera on to Bryan, "So far Noah's in the lead, Chris is pretty close and so is y/n! It's gonna be a close one."

“I don’t know why I’m still playing, I’ve already lost. You guys are all 50 points above me!” Bryan chuckled as he got up.

"C'mon, Bry, it's all just for fun." You smiled, and he shook his head as he went up to bowl.

In the end, you and Chris had the most points, and you only needed to score higher than 7 to beat him. He jokingly gave you a sly look as you got up, taking your turn. 

As you rolled the ball, you hit 5 pins in the left corner. You knew you had this in the bag! You’d easily beat Chris, there was no doubt. 

You rolled the second ball, and hit 4, leaving one in the middle, yet winning the game! 

You turned around, smiling as the guys cheered for you, all except Vin who was talking to Caitlin. You walked back to your seat, grabbing your bag and your phone, finishing your drink and grabbing Noah by the hand to pull him up. 

“My room or yours?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked up at him. 

“It’s gotta be yours, doll. I’m sharing with Matt tonight.” He whispered.

“Cool, let him know you’re coming to my room to look at the pictures I took, to see if any of them are official page worthy.” You smiled, “I’ll text you my room number.”

As you began to walk off after saying your goodbyes to the guys, who were staying behind for one more drink, you accidently bump into Caitlin as she digs through her bag for something.

"Sorry!" You gasps, and you smile, shaking your head.

"Don't worry about it," you notice how Vinny was at the bar with a couple of the guys, so you took the slither of time you've got to talk to her, "So how do you know Vin?"

"He followed me on instagram a few years ago, he'd always like my posts and reply to my stories. We try to meet up whenever we can- it's nothing like that though, we're just friends... Unless we're drunk in his hotel room." She giggles, and you smile and nod your head.

"Well, it's been great to meet you!" You say as you take a deep breath. You weren't jealous, why would you be jealous? She's a beautiful girl, he's a beautiful guy, of course they're going to get up to all sorts of things when they're alone.

So why were you so mad that they had a history, or that he invited her along today?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Fuck,” Noah groaned as you grabbed a handful of his tshirt, “I never thought this moment would come, where I’d have you all to myself.” 

You grinned against the skin of his neck, where you were peppering kisses before you felt the back of your legs hit the bed. You wiggled your way up, your head now against the pillows as Noah hovered over you, the most devilish look on your face. 

“You beat all our asses out there, didn’t you, beautiful?” He slips his hand under the sweater you were wearing, feeling your bare skin beneath his fingertips, “I don’t know whether to reward you for doing so well, or teach you a lesson for being so cocky earlier.” 

When you thought his hand would travel higher towards your bra, he surprised you, his hand moved lower, and you felt it slip under your skirt, under the hip of your underwear and rested it there, his thumb tracing over your pubic bone. 

“But you’ve been working so hard for us, I think it’s only fair that I say thank you.” He added, before asking permission to take your panties off. 

He moved his way down your body, your sweater now pushed up, exposing your tummy where he kissed a trail down to your thighs, yet he insisted your skirt stayed on. You knew what you were doing when you got dressed this morning, part of you wore it to tease him, and although you wouldn’t let yourself admit it, part of you wore it to tease Vinny too. 

You felt bad for him, knowing how you let him down, but you suddenly stopped thinking about Vin when you felt Noah’s tongue on your clit, kissing, licking, nipping and sucking as you threw your head back, strings of moans leaving your lips as you melted into the pleasure, letting it consume you. 

“So fucking gorgeous, you know that?” You heard him say. 

As his mouth worked on you, his hand moved its way to where you needed him. He teased your hole with his thumb, slipping the tip in before pulling back out, leaving you clenching around nothing as he smirked against your clit. 

“Noah, please,” you begged, breathlessly, “I need you, stop teasing.” 

“I know, baby, look how wet you are,” he said, pushing himself up slightly as he ran his finger teasingly slow through your folds, collecting the slickness before he took his finger into his mouth, “Bet it’s been a while since you’ve been fucked, hasn’t it? Poor thing.” He pouted before he dove back in. 

“Oh my g-” You slapped one hand over your mouth as the other tugged on his hair, you swore you felt him groan into your pussy as he brought his hand back up, his pointer finger slipping into you with ease, followed by his middle finger. "Fuck!"

His fingers fucked into you slowly, too slowly, but he knew how good it was making you feel and the noises you made as you were begging for more was music to his ears. He takes your thighs and places them over his shoulders as he sucks on your clit, his fingers curling into you, rubbing the spot you could never reach alone. He needed to see you come undone for him, he needed to watch your break in his hands 

He pulls his face back to kiss your thighs, the rough pad of his thumb now stroking circles over your clit, the slight stubble on his chin tickling you as sinks his teeth into your soft flesh, losing himself in the pleasure he was giving you. 

“I’m so close,” you tell him, “I’m gonna-”

“Go on, baby,” he tells you between kisses to your clit as , “Need to see how pretty you look when you cum, my pretty girl.” He mumbled into your flesh, as you felt your thighs tremble around him. 

It didn’t take long for you to finish, your walls clamping down around Noah’s fingers as he moaned into your skin. Even after your orgasm hit, he didn’t move, he remained between your thighs until you had to force him off, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. When he finally came up, he roughly grabbed your cheek in his hand, crashing his lips into yours as he moved up, kneeling between your thighs, you could finally feel how hard he was, and you were almost certain he had gone commando today. 

“Noah…” You panted, your forehead slightly damp with sweat as he rested his against it, “Fuck me.”

“Anything you want, angel.” He smirked, and you felt his hands reach for the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head, his lips parting at the fact you weren’t wearing a bra. As he took one of your boobs into his hand, you worked on undressing him. 

“It’s not fair that you’ve still got all your clothes on.” You tell him as his fingers tease your nipple. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He says, slowly pulling back as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his fully tattooed chest, then pulling a condom out of his pocket before pushing his joggers down- and you were right, he wasn’t wearing any boxers. “That better?” He asked, leaning back down to kiss you again. 

As you kissed, you felt his hips twitching involuntarily, his cock rubbing against your heat as you desperately tried to get more from him. 

“Noah, please…” You begged, “please fuck me, I need to feel you…”

"You're so pretty when you're begging, baby." He teases. “Are you sure?” He was watching how frustrated and flustered you were as you screwed your eyes shut and tried rocking your hips, needing more. 

“Yes!” You whined, and he pulled back, you guessed to roll the condom on, and with no warning, you felt the head of his cock nudge against your walls as inch by inch he filled you up. You felt as tears fill your eyes, the pleasure from his cock filling you so perfectly mixed with the dull ache from the stretch and the pain of him remaining so still inside you. 

He slowly began to move, his hand holding you down by your waist as the other pulled your legs to wrap around him, letting him fuck deeper into you as you cursed his name, your nails digging into his back. 

After a while in this position, Noah flipped you over onto your stomach, and he reached down to position you with your ass up for him whilst your face was buried in the pillows. He continued to fuck you like this until you came for the second time, muttering incoherent nonsense as your second orgasm took over you, but judging by the look in Noah’s eyes, he still wasn’t done.

He had you in every position, on every surface of your hotel room. From the bed to the desk in the corner, to the bathroom sink where he made you watch as you fell apart for him. You lost count of how many times you came, but just when you thought he was done, you were flipped over or lied down as he drove back into you, or got on knees to clean you up.

Hours had passed at this point, and the two of you were finally lying together on the bed, your limbs sore and your heart beating erratically as his fingers danced over the skin of your arm, holding you close with your head resting on his chest.

There were moments during your night together where you were using sex to release your built up frustration towards Vinny, knowing how much he would hate to know what you and Noah were up to, but you assumed he would be doing the same with Caitlin later so you assumed he wouldn't care.

"You okay?" Noah asked, gently twirling a piece of your hair before tucking it behind your ear.

"Yeah," you smile, tracing the outline of his stomach tattoo with your finger, trailing to just above his belly button, "I can't believe we just did that."

"I don't think I've ever lasted so long." He chuckled.

"Don't you go to the gym now? Your stamina would've improved." You point out, and he smirks.

"Yeah, I've been seeing the way you stare at me," he rubs his hand up and down his arm, "Don't think I don't notice, angel."

"Can you blame me?" You tilt your head to look up at him, "The last time I saw you, it looked like it would take one strong gust of wind to blow you over- and I mean that in the nicest way possible, that's literally my type- and now you look like you could bench press me?"

"So you're saying I'm your type?" He raised an eyebrow, a smug look across his face as you sat yourself up.

"No!" You tried to hide your smile.

"So what is your type?" He asked, his eyes meeting yours as he awaited your answer, but this only caused you to blush.

"I don't often like someone for their looks, it's always their personality. Someone funny, a bit of a nerd, has the same music taste as me, who stands for the right things... Someone who doesn't care about what other people think of them. That's what I find attractive."

"Y'know you basically just described me, y/n." He smirked.

And Vinny.

"Shut up!" You smiled, "So what's your type?"

He thought for a moment, and you thought he was going to give you an honest answer, but then he started describing you. Your height, your hair colour, your body shape, your eye colour, before you interrupted.

"Noah, I'm being serious!"

"You think I'm lying? What have we been doing for the past three hours, princess?"

"You... Really like me?"

"You haven't noticed?"

"Oh, Noah." You frowned, and he reached out to pull you back onto his chest.

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

team vinny we might not be up right now but trust me everything's gonna change in the next chapter <3

@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah

[karnaca78]

speaking of which Karna, I wanted to hear about your Rom too !! If i understand/remember correctly, she was Micolash' supervisor of sorts ? Would you mind telling us more, and what other ideas you have for her ? 👀

Oh! Yes, I suppose I've shared very little about her even though she's always been a favourite. Thank you for giving me an excuse to yap about her 😭

In my timeline, Rom (1830-1869) is a fairly reputable anatomist at Byrgenwerth, as well as Willem's niece (extremely strained relationship, the vibes are rancid like you wouldn't believe).

She is very close friends with Caryll, one of the college's archaeologists and later self-appointed Runesmith who makes it his life's purpose to translate the word of the Great Ones.

With Laurence she is cordial at best— her dislike for him probably motivates her not to join the Choir, even though she is involved with Ebrietas (as an anatomist, she mostly studies her physicality).

Her relationship with Micolash is so far the most significant. In 1859, she hires him as her assistant during the Fishing Hamlet beach party because of his upbringing as a surgeon's son, and they do funky experiments with the villagers' remains. All in all she takes it rather better than him, but they both see their scientific worldview tilted on its axis.

(There's a whole fic I've been struggling to write for months on this topic... Hopefully I'll finally decide how I want to write it, but today is not that day)

After that, they work together to try and make sense of Kos and what her existence implies. Micolash, who is first and foremost a physicist, finishes in 1863 his doctoral thesis on the influence of the Great Ones on the laws of matter (which ends up being an odd jumble of mathematical theory, philosophical conjecture and whatever music he's managed to put into it). Rom has to battle Willem for him to give Micolash his doctoral title and keep him at Byrgenwerth, considering the rather abstract nature of his work, so they can pursue their research.

When Laurence and Micolash decide to research the blood they've found during one of their expeditions to the tombs under Yharnam, she doesn't get much involved. She sort of works with the Healing Church (founded 1867) from the sidelines but keeps her post at Byrgenwerth— Willem allegedly wants her to be elected in his place as head of the college. It turns out to be a ruse for him to use her for an attempt at ascension.

Rom and Micolash essentially remain friends but their relationship is rather ambiguous. She's 7 years older than him but after he gets his doctoral title, they interact as equals and have a brief romantic thing going on before Micolash leaves Byrgenwerth to join the Church (to rekindle his yaoi flame with Laurence no doubt).

(I'm at the moment writing a short Micolash/Rom fic. I'm still debating if it's worth finishing.)

She gets turned into the "Vacuous Spider" at age 39 following Willem's failed experiment. Micolash learns of it after the fact and will mourn her for the rest of his life. She spends about 20 years in the lake before the Good Hunter finally puts her to rest.

References:

this comic hints at whatever the hell these two were up to in the Fishing Hamlet

and this one hints that they are quite close (definitely enough for her to touch him which rather says a lot about it, I mean what)

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Happy late birthday!!! I hope you had a good day and had a fun time <3

I don't know if your wips are open yet cus it doesn't say so, but you just posted something related so idk.

If they are, could I have some Vampdrew? Or some Angel Neil?

Either way! Lots of love <3

WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 234)

"So what? Neither are these," Andrew says as he lights a cigarette. He takes a drag and blows out smoke; it curls in the cool evening air then dissipates. "But I like them."

Neil takes the gum out of his mouth and it burns to nothing in his hand. A slightly fruity scent joins Andrew's cigarette smoke as the angel picks up the sandwich. "Thanks."

While they sit there, Andrew considers the pros and cons of being an angel. For every good thing seems to be canceled out by another. Neil can make himself invisible, but he has to because he's not allowed to talk to people. He can summon a magical knife, but he's terrified of it. He doesn't have to eat but he evidently feels hunger, based on the huge bite he's taking. Andrew flicks ash and lifts his cigarette back to his lips. He thinks the umbrella-shield and the angel fire must have drawbacks, he just hasn't witnessed them yet.

"D'you put jelly in this?" Neil asks suddenly, his voice thick with peanut butter. Andrew doesn't think it should be endearing, but alas. He's weak.

"No. Didn't have any." Andrew answers, causing Neil to pout slightly. Before Andrew can call him out for being a choosing beggar, he realizes Neil has literally never asked him for anything. Not for himself. He only asks for things that pertain to Andrew's well-being. The idiot. Neil sets his sandwich on his thigh and grabs for the water bottle, taking a long sip. Andrew watches his throat as he swallows.

Once they're both finished with their unnecessary vices— can a peanut butter sandwich be a vice, Andrew wonders— Neil burns the paper towel Andrew had wrapped up and stares into the flame in his hand with an unreadable expression. Andrew gives him a look. Is he about to find the bad side of Neil's fire? No, evidently not. Neil just blows the pile of ash out of his palm and moves to lie down, looking up at the sky.

It's far too early for stars and they're sort of hard to see from here anyway, thanks to all the light pollution. But Neil just keeps staring up at the fading daylight. A few moments pass and suddenly a plane is overhead, leaving wispy white streaks behind it. Andrew watches it until it's out of sight and thinks that it's like Neil. No matter if he's visible or not, there's always angelic contrails in Andrew's mind. It's sort of nice, having Neil to think about instead of the rest of everything in the world. The future, the past. Fuck, even the present is annoying to think about for too long. But Neil makes it worthwhile, even if he's a bit pissy the court is off limits till Friday.

That's right, Andrew remembers gleefully. There was no practice today and there won't be tomorrow either. Or Thursday. Oh, what a wonderful world to live in. No practice, just Neil and— Oh, fuck. Tomorrow's Wednesday. Andrew chews on the end of his cigarette as he considers his next session with Betsy. He's not sure what they'll end up discussing, but he knows she'll inevitably bring up Neil. She's his favorite subject at the moment, after all. (Andrew's too, but no one needs to know.)

Speaking of Neil. Andrew is once again fully convinced there's a gorgeous, snarky, angelic asshole lying next to him right now. He knows Neil is here. He's seen him eat and drink and sew and there's the knife mark in the roof still. And the Butcher exists and Kevin met him! He has all this evidence, he believes in Neil. He's 99.9% sure Neil's here. But there's the tiniest, tiniest bit of doubt in the back of Andrew's mind and he wants it gone.

[lovelyhan]

— again and again (a teaser) ⟢

pairing: mingyu x reader

summary: your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

word count: 1.7k words

tags: exes, fake dating, pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut (in later scenes; the teaser is completely sfw)

warnings: some medical jargon, mentions of shots (for pets)

notes: omg this is so long for a teaser, but it's fine LMAO i'll be away this weekend, so i thought i'd treat you guys to a little something i'm currently working on ^__^ i hope you like it!

When you hear the telltale ring as the call connects to its intended recipient, you wonder why you even considered this idea in the first place. Not to mention, you’re getting a nasty case of phone call anxiety—one that you haven’t felt in god knows how long. Maybe it’s because of the identity of the person you’re calling that your nerves are all over the place. 

In fact, you’re not sure if he’s even going to answer. There are a million and a half reasons why famous superstar Kim Mingyu won’t be able to pick up your call. He could be shooting for a music video or some fashion magazine. He could be in the middle of an interview. Or he could be out spending time with his members like tends to these days if his recent Instagram posts are anything to go by. 

But you try anyway because your mother sounded so hopeful in the phone call you just hung up on five minutes ago (The rice wine he got for us last Christmas was splendid! He’ll bring some again for Chuseok, won’t he?), that you just didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

So, because you can’t take back the pretty white lies you uttered (Uh, of course he will. Gyu told me he missed everyone back at home, too. Especially Namja), you’re attempting to rope Mingyu into the charade even if the odds are against you.

The first call doesn’t go through. Neither does the second. 

By your third try, you’re about to accept the fact that you’re going to have to make some due corrections to what you told your mother until you hear a groggy, “Hello?” on the other line. 

You nearly fall off your seat at the throaty sound of Mingyu’s voice, but you’d rather not get weird looks from your receptionist, so you breathe in as deeply (and quietly) as you can before mustering a smile that he won’t even be able to see.

“Hey, Mingyu, it’s me,” you begin, a bit proud of how your voice didn’t even falter. “It’s been a while. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

He doesn’t respond for a while, and the prolonged silence makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Did the call fall through? Did he not hear what you said? But just when you’re about to repeat the words—

“Kind of,” Mingyu grumbles, and you try not to think about how sexy his morning voice sounds despite it being two in the afternoon. “We finished taping a variety show today and I figured I’d get some sleep. It’s midnight right now.”

Well that’s news to you.

“Oh. You’re not in Korea?”

“Nah. We’re in New York for some brand collaborations,” he says, and you hear some rustling in the background, followed by a yawn. “Though I doubt you’ve been keeping tabs on us.” 

Okay, he doesn’t have to call you out like that.

Sure, you still catch posts from Mingyu, as well as the other twelve members of SEVENTEEN from time to time, but…after breaking up with him (on good terms, promise!), you thought it’s best if you didn’t see too much of them anymore. The block and mute buttons are your best friends, and while you didn’t use them on the members directly, gossip outlets were your regular targets.

So to speak, it’s been a peaceful six months since your break up with Mingyu. 

Until now.

“Do you need something?” he asks, and you realize you didn’t respond to what he said last. “Whatever it is, I might not be able to help you out right away. We’re holed up here until next month.”

Well…that’s all the confirmation you needed.

“I see,” you sigh, trying not to sound too disappointed. “It’s— It’s okay.”

“So you do need something,” Mingyu points out, voice much clearer now than it was two minutes ago. Like he was more awake. “What is it?”

“Nothing you should worry about, Gyu,” you reassure before making a face, not realizing how easily the old nickname just slipped out. “I’m sorry for waking you up. You should go back to—”

The sound of him whining at the other end sends another rush of vertigo through your entire being. “Come on, I’m awake anyways right? You know how hard it is for me to fall asleep again.”

“If I’d known we weren’t in the same continent, I wouldn’t have called altogether,” you say before quaintly adding, “Shit. This counts as an international call, doesn’t it?”

There’s someone else in the room with him, you think—a quiet drawl of Mingyu-hyung, what time is it? You immediately recognize it as Seungkwan. 

“Five minutes from midnight,” Mingyu says, and Seungkwan asks another question that you aren’t able to catch. “Who am I talking to? Bookkeu and Bobpul’s worst enemy.”

“Hey!” You scowl at him. “They never even whined when you and Seungkwan brought them to me for their shots!”

“Noona? Why are you calling this guy?” Seungkwan says a bit more loudly for you to hear. “Didn’t you dump him already? Good choice, by the way.” 

This time it’s Mingyu’s turn to utter out a semi-offended, “Hey! Mind your own business, Seungkwan-ah.”

A few minutes of bickering with his dongsaeng later, you figure that Mingyu must’ve gone outside of their hotel room for some privacy. You can vaguely hear the sound of the wind blowing on his end before he heaves a deep sigh.

“Sorry about that.” He coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, if you’re not going to tell me about what you needed help with, how are you? Is the clinic doing well? Did your receptionist finally ditch her shitty boyfriend? Does that one guy with a husky still hit on you?”

You’re a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of questions. Last you checked, you haven’t spoken to Mingyu since you greeted him on his birthday over a quick text message. But then again, your ex does have a talent for completely ignoring the time that exists in between interactions. Mingyu’s always been amicable for conversation, idol or not, boyfriend or not. 

The mere thought that he hasn’t changed at all makes your heart ache in more ways than one.

You manage a quiet laugh. “I’m fine. The clinic’s fine. Chae has a new boyfriend now. He even helps us sort out new products on the shelves sometimes.”

At the mention of her name, your receptionist whips her head in your direction, one brow raised. You shake your head with a smile, gesturing that this is nothing she should even be remotely concerned about. 

It’s just Mingyu after all.

“Okay, how about the guy who—”

“I turned him down when he asked me out for lunch last week.”

He whistles. “Ouch. And he’s been trying to get with you all this time.”

“I don’t usually date my clients, you know.”

“Yeah? I must be special then.”

Then comes the silence—so thick, you can cut through it with a knife. 

“Uh, so I have a patient coming in an hour for a castration procedure,” you tell him a bit awkwardly. “Gotta prepare everything before the owner arrives.”

Mingyu sighs, and you can almost imagine him pouting. “You’re really not gonna tell me? I can still help you with whatever you need even when I’m out here. Unless it requires me to, you know, physically be there.”

You chuckle. “That’s the thing, Gyu. You can’t help me because I need you to actually be here.”

“Oh. Why? What for?”

You inhale sharp breath through your nose, closing your eyes as your face warms with embarrassment. Chae is definitely looking at you funnily from her station now, but you tell yourself not to give it too much thought.

“Mom asked if I was bringing you with me for Chuseok,” you admit. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, so… They kind of have no idea that we aren’t together anymore.”

Mingyu falls silent for a while yet again, and you realize that your anxiousness spikes whenever he isn’t talking like there’s no tomorrow. You wonder if he’s figured out what you’re trying to insinuate and is silently berating you for the lapse in judgment. But when Mingyu bursts out laughing on the other end, you suddenly don't mind being on the receiving end of his silence after all.

“No way,” he gasps between chuckles. “You were going to ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend over the holidays, weren’t you?! One of the fans wrote a story about the exact same thing once, except it’s between me and Wonwoo-hyung. It was in English though, but Vernon translated it pretty well.”

…Kim Mingyu admitting to reading fanfiction about himself and Wonwoo aside, you groan. “What am I supposed to do? My family loves you. I’d rather not dampen the Chuseok spirit by saying their favorite son has unfortunately made his unannounced exit half a year ago.”

“So you’re willing to pretend we’re still together just to keep them happy?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like you’re an ex I should be ashamed of, Gyu.”

“Because I’m an idol that millions are vying for?” 

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s because out of all my exes, you’re the only one that Namja actually likes. That’s pretty much the highest honor you can receive in your entire life.”

Your heart does a little flip when Mingyu barks out another light-hearted laugh. You tell yourself that you’re only reacting that way because…it has been a while since you talked to him. That, and Mingyu was always so smiley whenever you brought up your ten year-old retriever.

“Point taken,” he says. “I’d totally be down to help you out, but…yeah.”

“I knew you would be,” you reply, a sad smile ghosting your features. “That’s why I called.”

Silence settles over the line once again, but it’s, by no means, awkward. It’s more…sentimental. Like two old friends reminiscing about the good memories you shared. 

Huh. You’re friends with Mingyu…

“Anyway, thanks for catching up with me, Mingyu,” you tell him before you end up saying something you’re not supposed to. “I’ll get going now. Good night.”

“Hey—”

You end the call before he can have the chance to make you falter.

end notes: like the teaser so far? leave a reply if you haven't filled out my taglist form yet and would like to be tagged once the full story is up!

edit: the full fic is up here!